ACT 1, SCENE 3, 37-156

William Shakespeare, Macbeth

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Macbeth  So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Banco  How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these

So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

Macbeth  Speak, if you can: what are you?

First Witch  All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!

Second Witch  All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!

Third Witch  All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter!

Banco  Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace and great prediction
Of noble having and of royal hope,
That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not.
If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favours nor your hate.

First Witch  Hail!

Second Witch  Hail!

Third Witch  Hail!

First Witch  Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

Second Witch  Not so happy, yet much happier.

Third Witch  Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

First Witch  Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!

Macbeth  Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. Witches vanish.

Banco  The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,

And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?

Macbeth  Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!

Banco  Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten on the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?

Macbeth  Your children shall be kings.

Banco                                                     You shall be king.

Macbeth  And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?

Banco  To the selfsame tune and words.
Who's here? Enter ROSS and ANGUS.

Ross  The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
The news of thy success; and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend
Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.

Angus                                              We are sent
To give thee from our royal master thanks;
Only to herald thee into his sight,
Not pay thee.

Ross  And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
For it is thine.

Banco             What, can the devil speak true?

Macbeth  The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
In borrow'd robes?

Angus                    Who was the thane lives yet;
But under heavy judgment bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
Have overthrown him.

Macb   [Aside]
Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!
The greatest is behind. [To Ross and Angus]

Thanks for your pains. [To Banco]

Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the

Banco                               That trusted home
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray 's
In deepest consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you.

Macbeth   [Aside]
Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen. [Aside]
This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings:
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

Banco                   Look, how our partner's rapt.

Macbeth   [Aside]
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
Without my stir.

Banco                New honours come upon him,
Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
But with the aid of use.

Macbeth   [Aside]
Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Banco  Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

Macbeth  Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought

With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are register'd where every day I turn
The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.

Banco                                   Very gladly.

Macbeth  Till then, enough. Come, friends. [Exeunt.

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