All language subtitles for Great.Performances.Macbeth.2010 sub 2026 eng

(Trascritto da TurboScribe. Aggiorna a Illimitato per rimuovere questo messaggio.) What bloody man is that?

He can report, Asimov, by his plight of

the revolt of the newest state.

Is it the sergeant, who, like a good

and hardy soldier, orchestrates my captivity?

Hail, pray, friend.

Say to the king, the knowledge of the

broilers are at its limit.

Doubtful it stood.

As two spent swimmers, that did cling together

and choke their hearts.

And the merciless MacDonald, from the Western Isles,

is supplied.

And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, showed

like a rebel's whore.

But, all too weak for brave Macbeth, disdaining

Fortune with his brandished steel, which, smoked with

bloody execution, carved out his passage till he

faced the slave.

And there shook hands, and obeyed so well

to him, till he unseamed him from the

knave to the chaffs, and fixed his head

upon our battlements.

Ah, valiant cousin, worthy gentleman.

Mark, we have scot the mark.

A notion that justice had with valour armed.

But the Norwegian lord, surveying vantage with furbished

arms and new supplies of men, began a

fresh assault.

Dismay not this, our captains, Macbeth and Banquo.

Sparrows, eagles, or the hare, the lion.

If I say sooth, I must report they

were, as cannons ever charged with double cracks,

whether they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,

or memorise another Golgotha, I cannot tell.

Blasphemy, my gaseous Christ.

So well thy words become thee as thy

wounds, they smack of honour both.

Go, get him, search him.

When shall we three meet again?

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

When the hurly-burly's done.

When the battle's lost and won.

That'll be ere the set of sun.

Where the place?

Upon the heath.

There to meet with...

Macbeth!

Fair is foul.

And foul is fair.

Hover through the fog and filthy air.

Fair is foul and foul is fair.

Hover through the fog and filthy air.

Who comes here?

The worthy thane of Ross.

What a haste looks through his eyes.

God save the king.

Whence camest thou, worthy thane?

From Fife, great king, where the Norweyan banners

flout the sky and fan our people cold.

Norway himself, with terrible numbers, assisted by that

most disloyal traitor, the thane of Cawdor, began

a dismal conflict, till that the dauntless Macbeth

confronted him with self-comparisons, point against point,

rebellious arm against arm, and to conclude, the

victory fell on us.

Yes!

Yes!

Great happiness.

No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive

our bosom interest.

Go, pronounce his present death, and with his

former title greet Macbeth.

I'll see it done.

What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.

Hathra!

Hathra!

Macbeth doth come.

Sisters hand in hand, roosters o'er the

sea and land, fast to go about, about,

Christ alive, Christ alive, Christ again to make

round nine.

Peace!

The charms wound up.

So foul and fair a day I have

not seen.

What are these, that look not like the

inhabitants of the earth, and yet are aren't?

Live you?

Or are you what that man may question?

You seem to understand me.

By each at once her chappy finger laying

upon her skinny lips.

You should be women, and yet your beards

forbid me to interpret that you are so.

Speak, if you can.

What are you?

All hail, Macbeth.

Hail to thee, thane of Glamis.

All hail, Macbeth.

Hail to thee, thane of Cawdor.

All hail, Macbeth.

Thou shalt be king hereafter.

Good sir, why do you start, and seem

to fear things that do sound so fair?

For the name of truth, are ye fantastical,

or that indeed which outwardly ye show?

My noble partner, you greet with present grace,

and a 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.

Hail.

Hail.

Hail.

Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

Not so happy, yet much happier.

Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none.

So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo.

Banquo and Macbeth, all hail.

Say, you imperfect speakers, tell me more.

By my father'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 you stop our way with such

prophetic greeting?

Speak!

I charge you!

The earth hath bubbles as the water has,

and these are of them.

Whither are they vanished?

Into the air.

And what seemed corporeal melted as breath into

the wind.

Would they had stayed.

Were such things here, as we do see,

to speak about?

Or have we eaten on the insane root

that takes the reason prisoner?

Your children shall be kings.

You shall be king.

And thane of Cawdor too.

When did not so?

Still same tune and words.

The king hath happily received, Macbeth, the news

of thy success.

We are sent to give thee from our

royal master thanks, only to herald thee into

his sight, not pay thee.

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.

What can the devil speak true?

The thane of Cawdor lives.

Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?

Who was the thane lives yet, but under

heavy judgement bears that life which he deserves

to lose, treasons capital, confessed and proved, have

overthrown him.

Glamis and thane of Cawdor, the greatest is

behind.

Do you not hope your children shall be

kings when those that gave the thane of

Cawdor to me promised no rest to them?

That trusted hand 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 us in deepest consequence.

Cousins, a word, I pray you.

Two truths are told as happy prologues to

the swelling act of the imperial theme.

This supernatural soliciting cannot be ill, cannot be

good.

If ill, why hath it given me earnest

of success, commencing in a truth?

I am thane of Cawdor.

If good, why do I yield to that

suggestion whose horrid image makes 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 smothered in surmise, and nothing is

but what is not.

If chance will have me king, why, chance

may crown me without my stir.

Come what, come may, time and the hour

run through the roughest day.

Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

I ask your favour.

My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.

Let us toward the king.

Think upon what hath chanced, and in good

time, the interim having waited, let us speak

our free heart each to other.

Very gladly.

Till then.

Enough.

Come, friends.

Is execution done on Cawdor?

Are not those in commission yet to return?

My lords, they are not yet come back.

But I have spoke with one who saw

him die, who did report that, very frankly,

he confessed his treasons, implored your highness' pardon,

and set forth a deep repentance.

Nothing in his life became him like the

leaving it.

He died as one that had been studied

in his death, to throw away the dearest

thing he owed us to her a careless

trifle.

There's no art to find the mind's construction

in the face.

He was a gentleman on whom I built

an absolute trust.

O worthiest cousin, the sin of my ingratitude

even now was heavy on me.

Would thou hadst less deserved that the proportion

both of thanks and payment might have been

mine.

Only I have left to say, more is

thy due than more than all can pay.

The service and the loyalty I owe in

doing it pays itself.

Your highness' part is to receive our duties,

and our duties are to your throne and

state, children and servants, which do but what

they should by doing everything safe toward your

love and honour.

Welcome hither.

I have begun to plant thee, and will

labour to make thee full of growing.

Noble banquo that has no less deserved, nor

must be known no less to have done

so, let me enfold thee and hold thee

to my heart.

There, if I grow, the harvest is your

own.

My plenteous joys, wanton in fullness, seek to

hide themselves in drops of sorrow.

Sons, kinsmen, thanes, and you whose places are

the nearest, know we will establish our estate

upon our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter

the Prince of Cumberland, which honour must not,

unaccompanied, invest him only.

But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine

on all deservers, from hence to glance, and

bind us further to you.

I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful

the hearing of my wife with your approach.

Humbly take my leave.

I worthy cordial.

The Prince of Cumberland, that is a step

on which I must fall down, or else,

or leap, for in my way it lies.

Stars, hide your fires.

Let not light see my black and deep

desires.

They met me in the day of success,

and I have learned by the perfectest report

they have more in them than mortal knowledge.

When I burned in desire to question them

further, they made themselves air, into which they

vanished.

Whilst I stood rapt in the wonder of

it, came missives from the king, who all

hailed me, Thane of Cawdor, by which title

before these weird sisters saluted me, and referred

me to the coming on of time with

hail, king that shalt be.

This have I thought good, to deliver thee,

my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightst

not lose the juice of rejoicing by being

ignorant of what greatness has promised thee.

Lair to thy heart, and farewell.

Glant thou art, and Cawdor, and

shalt be what thou art promised.

Yet do I fear thy nature.

It is too full of the milk of

human kindness to catch the nearest way.

Thou wouldst be great, but not without ambition,

but without the illness should attend it.

Hie thee hither, that I may pour my

spirits in thine ear, and chastise with the

valour of my tongue all that impedes thee

from the golden round, which fate and metaphysical

aid doth seem to have thee crowned with

awe.

What is your tidings?

The king comes here to-night.

Thou art mad to say it.

Is not thy master with him, who whatsoever

would have him formed for preparation?

So please thee, it is true.

Our thane is coming.

Give him tending.

He brings great news.

Raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal

entrance of Duncan under my battlements.

Come, you spirits, that tend on mortal thoughts.

Unsex me here, and fill me topful of

direst cruelty.

Stop up the access and passage to remorse

that no compunctious visitings of nature shake my

fell purpose.

Nor keep peace between the effect and it.

Come to my woman's breasts, and take my

milk from Gaul.

You murdering ministers, wherever in your sightless substances

you wait on nature's mischief.

Come, thick night, and pull thee in the

dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife

see not the wound it makes, nor heaven

peep through the blanket of the dark to

cry, Hold!

Hold!

Great Glamis.

Worthy Cawdor.

Greater than both by the all-hail hereafter.

Thy letters have transported me beyond this ignorant

present, and I feel now the future in

the instant.

My dearest love.

Duncan, Duncan comes here tonight.

And when goes hence?

Tomorrow, as he purposes.

Oh, never shall sun that morrow see.

Your face, my thane, is as a book

where men may read strange matters, to beguile

the time, look like the time, bear welcome

in your eye, your hand, your tongue, look

like the innocent flower, but be the serpent

under it.

He that's coming must be provided for, and

you shall put this night's great business into

my dispatch, which shall to all our nights

and days to come give solely sovereign sway

and masterdom.

We will speak further.

Only look up clear.

To alter favour ever is to fear.

Leave all the rest to me.

This castle hath a pleasant seat.

The air, nimbly and sweetly, recommends itself unto

our gentle senses.

Si, si, our honoured hostess.

The love that follows us sometime is our

trouble, which still we thank as love.

Now herein I teach you how you shall

bid God yield us for your pains and

thank us for your trouble.

All our service in every point twice done

and then done double were poor and single

business to contend against those honest, deep, and

broad wherewith your majesty loads our house.

Where's the thane of Cawdor?

We coursed him at the heels, but he

rides well, and his great love sharp as

his spur hath helped him to his home

before us.

Conduct me to mine host.

We love him highly.

And shall continue our graces towards him.

By your leave, hostess.

If it were done when tis done, then,

well, well, it were done quickly.

If the assassination could trammel up the consequence

and catch with her success, but that this

blow might be the be-all and end

-all here, but here upon this bank and

shoal of time we'd jump the life to

come.

But in these cases we still have judgement

here that we but teach bloody instruction which

being taught returns to plague the inventor.

This even-handed justice commends the ingredients of

our poisoned chalice to our own lips.

He's here in double trust.

First as I am his kinsman and his

subject, strong both against the deed, then as

his host who should against his murderer shut

the door, not bear the knife myself.

Besides, this Duncan has borne his faculty so

meek, has been so clear in his great

office that his virtues will plead like angels

trumpet-tongued against the deep damnation of his

taking off and pity like a naked newborn

babe striding the blast.

Oh, heaven's cherubim, horsed upon the sightless couriers

of the air, shall blow the horrid deed

in every eye that tears shall drown the

wind.

I have no spur to prick the sides

of my intent but only vaulting ambition, which

o'erleaps itself and falls on the other.

Hannah, what news?

He hath almost supped.

Why has he left the chamber?

Hath he asked for me?

Know you not he has?

We will proceed no further in this business.

He hath honoured me of late, and I

have bought gold and opinions from all sorts

of people which would be worn now in

their newest gloss, not cast aside so soon.

Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself?

Hath it slept since, and wakes it now

to look so green and pale at what

it did so freely?

From this time such I account thy love.

Art thou afeard to be the same in

thine own pricket and valour as thou art

in desire?

Wouldst thou have that which thou esteemed the

ornament of life, and live a coward in

thine own esteem, letting who I dare not

wait upon I would like the poor cat

in the attic?

Prithee, please, I dare do all that may

become a man.

Who dares do more is none.

What beast was then that made you break

this enterprise to me when you durst do

it?

Then you were a man, and to be

more than what you were you would be

so much more than man.

Nor time nor place did then adhere, and

yet you would make both.

They have made themselves,