All language subtitles for Macbeth.1948.1080p.BluR

All: Double, double,
toil and trouble;

fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Witch: Pour in sow's blood
that hath eaten her nine farrow;

witch 2: Grease...

Witch: That's sweaten
from the murderer's gibbet

throw into the flame;

witch 2: Finger...

Witch: Of birth-strangled babe,

witch 3: Ditch-delivered
by a drab;

- witch 2: Make the gruel...
- Witch: Thick and slab,

witch 3: Like a hell-broth...

All: Boil and bubble,

witch: For a charm
of powerful trouble.

Witch 3: When shall we three
meet again?

In thunder, lightning,
or in rain?

Witch 2: When
the hurlyburly's done.

Witch: When the battle's
lost and won.

Witch 3: That will be ere
the set of sun.

Witch: Where to meet with...

Witch 2: Macbeth?

Witch 2: By the pricking
of my thumbs,

something wicked this way comes.

So foul and fair
a day I have not seen.

Witch 2: A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come.

Witch: All hail, Macbeth!

Hail to thee, thane of glamis!

What are these
that look not like

the inhabitants o' the
earth, and yet are on't?

Speak, if you can: What are you?

- Witch: Hail!
- What is't you do?

Witch 2: Hail!

Witch 3: Hail!

Witch: Hail to thee,
thane of cawdor.

Witch 2: All hail, Macbeth,
thou shalt be king hereafter!

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.

- Witch: Hail!
- Witch 2: Hail!

Witch 3: Hail!

-Witch 2: Lesser than Macbeth,
-witch: And greater.

-Witch 2: Not so happy,
-witch 3: Yet much happier.

-Witch 2: Thou shalt get kings,
-witch: Though thou be none.

All: So all hail,
Macbeth and banquo!

Go herefrom! Leave!

Stay, you imperfect speakers,
tell me more.

I am the 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.

Man: My lord, Macbeth!

Ma cbeth: Kind gentlemen.

Man: The king hath
happily received, Macbeth,

the news of thy success.

As thick as hail came post
with post

and every one did bear

thy praises in his kingdom's
great defence.

We give thee
from our royal master thanks.

He bade us, from him,
call thee thane of cawdor.

What, can the devil speak true?

In which addition,
hail, most worthy thane!

For it is thine.

The thane of cawdor lives.

Why do you dress me
in borrowed robes?

Man: Who was
the thane lives yet;

but under heavy judgment
bears that life

man: Which he deserves to lose.

Treasons capital,
confessed and proved

have overthrown him.

Glamis, and thane of cawdor!

The greatest is behind.

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.

Ma cbeth: If good, why do [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?

Man: Worthy Macbeth,
we stay upon your leisure.

Give me your favour:

My dull brain was
wrought with things...

Forgotten.

-Witch: He shall spurn fate,
-witch 2: Scorn death,

witch: And bear,
he hopes 'bove wisdom,

-witch 2: Grace
-witch: And fear.

Let us toward the king.

All: Hail!

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!"

Ma cbeth: Stars, hide your fires,

let not light see
my black and deep desires.

Lord banquo!

Do you not hope
your children shall be kings,

when those that...

Gave the thane of cawdor to me

promised no less to them?

That trusted home
might yet enkindle you

unto the crown, besides
the thane of cawdor.

But 'tis strange:
And often times,

to win us to our harm,

the instruments of darkness
tell us truths,

win us with honest trifles,

to betray us
in deepest consequence.

Your children shall be kings.

You shall be king.

Ma cbeth: If chance will have
me king, why,

chance may crown me,
without my stir.

Look, how our partner's rapt.

Hail, king that shalt be!

This have I thought good
to deliver thee,

my dearest partner of greatness,

that thou mightst not lose
the dues of rejoicing,

by being ignorant of what
greatness is promised thee.

Lay it to thy heart,
and farewell.

Woman: Glamis thou art,
and cawdor; And shalt be

what thou art promised.

Come, you spirits that
tend on mortal thoughts,

unsex me here,

and fill me from the crown
to the toe

top-full of direst cruelty!

Make thick my blood;

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 for gall,

you murdering ministers,

wherever in your
sightless substances

you wait on nature's mischief!

Come, thick night,

and pall 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 comes here tonight.

And... when... goes hence?

Tomorrow, as he purposes.

He that's coming
must be provided for.

We will speak further.

Put this night's business
into my dispatch.

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't.

King Duncan.

When Duncan is asleep,
whereto the rather shall

his day's hard journey
soundly invite him,

I'll drug his servants' wine.

Macbeth: King Duncan is
my kinsman.

He hath borne his faculties
so meek.

Hath 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,
or 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.

Saint Michael, the archangel,
be our safeguard

against the wiles
and wickedness of the devil.

Do thou, 0 prince
of the heavenly host,

by the divine power,

thrust into hell Satan
and the other evil spirits,

who roam through the world,
seeking the ruin of souls.

Amen!

Thus thou renounce Satan?

All: I do renounce him.

And all his works?

All: I do renounce them.

And all his pomp?

All: I do renounce them.

- Holy father: Amen!
- All: Amen!

My son, is execution done
on cawdor?

My liege, it is.

And 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,

as 'twere 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.

But where's Macbeth,
the thane of cawdor?

0h, worthy cawdor!

Would thou hadst less deserved,

that the proportion both
ofthanks

and payment
might have been mine!

The service and the loyalty
I owe in doing it, pays itself.

Noble banquo,
thou hadst no less deserved,

nor must be known no less
to have done so.

Give me your hand.

This guest of summer,
the temple-haunting martlet,

does approve,
by his loved mansionry,

that the heaven's breath
smells wooingly here.

No jutty, frieze, buttress,
nor coign of vantage,

but this bird hath
made his pendent bed

and procreant cradle,

where they most breed and haunt,

I have observed,
the air is delicate.

Ma cbeth: If it were done
when 'tis done,

then 'twere well
it were done quickly.

If the assassination
could trammel up

the consequence and catch
with his surcease success,

that but this blow might be
the be-all and the 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 judgment here

that we but teach
bloody instructions,

which, being taught,
return to plague the inventor

this even-handedjustice
commends the ingredients

of our poisoned chalice

to our own lips.

When in swinish sleep

their drenched natures lie
as in a death,

what cannot you and I perform
upon the unguarded Duncan?

What not put upon his
spongy officers,

who shall bear the guilt
of our great quell?

Bring forth men-children only;

for thy undaunted mettle should
compose nothing but males.

Lady ma cbeth: Seyton!

Will it not be received,
when we have marked with blood

those sleepy two
of his own chamber

and used their very daggers,
that they have done't?

Who dares receive it other,
as we shall make

our griefs and clamour
roar upon his death?

Leave all the rest to me.

Banquo: How goes the night, boy?

Boy: The moon is down;
I have not heard the clock.

Banquo: Hold, take my sword.

Banquo: There's husbandry
in heaven;

their candles are all out.

Take thee that too.

A heavy summons lies like lead
upon me,

and yet I would not sleep.

Merciful powers,

restrain in me
the cursed thoughts

that nature gives way to
in repose!

Give me my sword.

Who's there?

A friend.

What, sir, not yet at rest?

The king's a-bed.

He hath been
in unusual pleasure,

and sent forth great largess
to your offices.

This diamond
he greets your wife withal.

I dreamt last night
of the three weird sisters:

To you they have
showed some truth.

I think not of them.

Good repose the while!

Thanks, sir:

The like to you!

Ma cbeth: Now o'er
the one half-world

nature seems dead,

and wicked dreams abuse
the curtained sleep.

Witchcraft celebrates
pale hecate's offerings,

and withered murder,

alarumed by his sentinel,
the wolf,

whose howl's his watch,

thus with his stealthy pace.

With tarquin's
ravishing strides,

towards his design
moves like a ghost.

Is this a dagger
which I see before me,

the handle toward my hand?

Come, let me clutch thee.

I have thee not,
and yet I see thee still.

Thou Marshall'st me
the way that I was going;

art thou not, fatal vision,
sensible to feeling as to sight?

Or art thou but a dagger
of the mind,

a false creation,

proceeding
from the heat-oppressed brain?

I see thee still,

and on thy blade
and dudgeon gouts of blood,

which was not so before.

There's no such thing.

How now!

What news?

The doors are open;

and the surfeited grooms do mock
their charge with snores.

We will proceed no further
in this business.

Was the hope drunk wherein
you dressed yourself?

Hath it slept since?

And wakes it now,
to look so green and pale

on what it did so freely?

From this time such I
accountthylove.

Art thou afeard to be the same
in thine own act

and valour as thou art
in desire?

I dare do all that
may become a man;

who dares do more is none.

What beast was't, 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 the man.

I have given suck,

and know how tender 'tis
to love the babe that milks me.

I would, while it was smiling
in the face,

have plucked my nipple
from his boneless gums,

and dashed the brains out,

had I so sworn as you have
done to this.

If we should fail?

We fail!

But screw your courage
to the sticking-place,

and we'll not fail.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,

hear not my steps,
which way they walk,

for fear thy very stones
prate of my whereabout.

I go and it is done;

the bell invites me.

Hear it not, Duncan;
For it is a knell

that summons thee
to heaven or to hell.

That which hath made them
drunk hath made me bold;

what hath quenched them
hath given me fire.

[Gaspsi

peace!

It was the owl that shrieked.

He is... about it.

Who's there? What, ho!

Alack!

I am afraid they have awaked,
and 'tis not done.

The attempt and not the deed
confounds us.

Hark!

I laid their daggers ready;
He could not miss 'em.

- My husband...
- I have... done the deed.

Didst thou not hear a noise?

I heard the owl scream
and the crickets cry.

- Did not you speak?
- When?

- Now.
- As I descended?

-Hark!

This is a sorry sight.

A foolish thought,
to say a sorry sight.

There's one did laugh
in's sleep,

and one cried "murder!"

That they did wake each other:
I stood and heard them.

But they did say their prayers,

and addressed them again
to sleep.

There are two lodged together.

One cried "god bless us!“
And "amen" the other,

As they had seen me
with these hangman's hands.

Listening their fear,
I could not say "amen,"

when they did say
"god bless us!"

Consider it not so deeply.

But wherefore could I
not pronounce "amen"?

I had most need of blessing,

And... "Amen" stuck
in my throat.

These deeds must not be
thought after these ways;

so, it'll make us mad.

Had I but died
an hour before this chance,

I had lived a blessed time

for, from this instant,

there's nothing serious
in mortality:

All is but toys:
Renown and grace is dead;

the wine of life is drawn,

and the mere lees is
left this vault to brag of.

Go... get some water,

and wash this filthy witness
from your hand.

Why did you bring the daggers
from the place?

They must lie there.

Go carry them;

and smear the sleepy grooms
with blood.

I'll go no more.

I'm afraid to think
what I have done.

Look on't again I dare not.

Infirm of purpose!

Give me the daggers.

The sleeping and the dead
are but as pictures

'tis the eye of childhood
that fears a painted devil.

If he do bleed,

I'll gild the faces
of the grooms withal,

For it must seem their guilt.

Whence is that knocking?

How is't with me,

when every noise appals me?

What hands are here?

Ha! They pluck out mine eyes.

Will all great Neptune's ocean
wash this blood

clean from my hand?

No, this my hand will rather

the multitudinous seas
in incarnadine,

making the green one red.

My hands are of your colour;

but I shame to wear
a heart so white.

Retire we to our chamber;

a little water clears us
of this deed.

How easy is it, then!

Hark! More knocking.

Get on your nightgown

lest occasion call us,
and show us to be watchers.

To know my deed,

'twere best not know myself.

Wake Duncan with thy knocking!

I would thou couldst!

Who's there?

Knock, knock! Never at quiet!

A plague
o'these pickled herrings...

Knock, knock!
Knock, knocklknock!

It is macduff!

Was it so late, friend,
ere you went to bed,

that you do lie so late?

Faith, sir, we were carousing
till the second cock.

Is thy master stirring?

Macduff!

Good morrow, noble sir.

Good morrow, both.

Is the king stirring,
worthy thane?

Not yet.

He did command me
to call timely on him:

I had almost slipped the hour.

There is the door.

I'll make so bold to call.

Goes the king hence today?

He does: He did appoint so.

The night has been unruly:

Where we lay,
our chimneys were blown down;

and as they say,

iamentings heard I'th'air.

Strange screams of death,

and prophesying
with accents terrible

dire combustion
and confused events

new hatched to the woeful time,

the obscure bird clamoured
the livelong night.

Some say, the earth was feverous
and did shake.

'Twas a rough night.

Ma cduff: Murder and treason!

What is't you say?

Mean you his majesty?

Ring the alarum bell.

Awake! Banquo! Malcolm!

Malcolm! Awake! Awake!

- My lord!
- Macduff: Murder and treason!

Ma cduff: Banquo! Malcolm!
Malcolm! Awake!

Husband!

Horror, horror, horror!

Tongue nor heart cannot
conceive nor name thee!

Confusion now hath
made his masterpiece!

Most sacrilegious murder hath
broke ope

the lord's anointed temple,

and stole thence
the life 0' the building!

Murder!

What is amiss?

Holy father:
You are, and do not know't:

The spring, the head,

the fountain
of your blood is stopped.

The very source
of it is stopped.

Your royal father's murdered.

0, by whom?

Those of his chamber,
as it seemed, had done't:

Their hands and faces were all
badged with blood;

so were their daggers.

They stared,
and were distracted.

No man's life was
to be trusted with them.

But yet I do repent me
of my fury,

that I did kill them.

Wherefore did you so?

Here lay Duncan,

his silver skin laced
with his golden blood;

and his gashed stabs looked like
a breach in nature

for ruin's wasteful entrance.

There, the murderers, steeped
in the colours of their trade,

their daggers unmannerly
breeched with Gore:

Who could refrain, that had
a heart to love?

- Help me, hence, ho!
- Macbeth: Look to the lady.

And when we have
our naked frailties hid,

that suffer in exposure,

let's meet to question
this most bloody piece of work,

to know it further.

Fears and scruples shake us.

In the great hand of god
I stand.

And I.

So all.

How goes the world, sir, now?

Why, see you not?

Is't known who did this
more than bloody deed?

Those that Macbeth hath slain.

I have seen hours dreadful
and things strange,

but this sore night hath
trifled former knowings.

By the clock, 'tis day,

and yet dark night strangles
the travelling lamp.

Is't night's predominance,
or the day's shame,

that darkness does
the face of earth entomb,

when living light
should kiss it?

'Tis unnatural,

even like the deed that's done.

- What will you do?
- Do?

Where we are, there's
daggers in men's smiles:

The near in blood,
the nearer bloody.

Therefore, to horse!

My husband!

And let us not be dainty
of leave-taking, but shift away!

Seyton!

Farewell, father.

Holy father:
God's benison go with you,

and with those that would
make good of bad,

and friends of foes!

Banquo: Thou hast it now:

King, cawdor, glamis, all.

As the weird sisters promised,

and, I fear, thou played'st
most foully for't.

Yet was it said, it should
not stand in thy posterity,

but that myself should be
the root

and father of many kings.

If there come truth from them,
as upon thee, Macbeth,

their speeches shine.

Why, by the verities
on thee made good,

may they not be
my oracles as well,

and set me up in hopes?

Malcolm and macduff, my lord,
are fled to england.

Fled to england!

We can entreat an hour to serve;

we'd spend it on some words
upon that business,

if you would Grant the time.

At your kind'st leisure.

You shall cleave to my consent,
when 'tis,

it shall make honour for you.

So I lose none
in seeking to augment.

You lack the season
of all natures.

Sleep.

To bed.

To bed.

We have scorched the snake,
not killed it:

She'll close and be herself,
whilst our poor malice

remains in danger
of her former tooth.

- Banquo?
- He chid the sisters

when first they put the name
of king upon me,

and bade them speak to him:

Then prophet-like
they hailed him father

to a line of kings:

Upon my head they placed
a fruitless crown.

And put a barren sceptre
in my gripe.

Thence to be wrenched
with an unlineal hand,

no son of mine succeeding.

If't be so,

for banquo's issue have I
filed my mind.

For them the gracious Duncan
have I murdered;

put rancours in the vessel
of my peace only for them.

And mine eternal Jewel given
to the common enemy of man,

to make them kings,

the seed of banquo kings!

Things without all remedy
should be without regard:

What's done... is done.

To bed.

To bed. Come.

I'll to sleep.

My strange and self-abuse
is the initiate fear

that wants hard use:

We are yet but young... in deed.

My lord!

Methought I heard a voice
cry, "sleep no more!

Macbeth does murder sleep",

the innocent sleep,

sleep that knits up
the raveled sleave of care,

the death of each day's life,

sore iabour's bath,
balm of hurt minds,

great nature's second course,
chief nourisher in life's feast!

What do you mean?

Still it cried, "sleep no more!"
To all the house.

"Glamis hath murdered sleep,
and therefore cawdor

shall sleep no more;

Macbeth... shall sleep no more."

Witch: I will drain him
dry as hay:

Sleep shall neither night
nor day.

Hang upon his penthouse lid;

he shall live a man forbid.

To be thus is nothing

but to be safely thus.

What had he done,
to make him fly the land?

You must have Patience, madam.

He had none:
His flight was madness:

When our actions do not,
our fears do make us traitors.

You know not whether it was
his wisdom or his fear.

Wisdom!

To leave his wife and babes,
all in a place

from whence himself... does fly?

We hear, macduff
and Malcolm are gone hence,

not confessing
their cruel murders,

but filling their hearers
with strange invention.

But of that tomorrow,
here's our chief guest.

If he had been forgotten,

it had been as a gap
in our great feast,

and all-thing unbecoming.

Tonight we hold
a solemn supper sir,

and I'll request your presence.

Let your highness
command upon me.

Ride you this afternoon?

Ay, my good lord.

We should have
else desired your good advice,

in this day's council,

but we'll take tomorrow.

Is't far you ride?

As far, my lord,

as will fill up the time
'twixt this and supper.

Fail not our feast.

My lord, I will not.

Ma cbe th: Farewell.

Let every man be master
of his time till seven at night:

To make society
the sweeter welcome,

we will keep ourself
till supper-time alone.

While then, god be with you!

Our fears in banquo stick deep.

And his royalty of nature

reigns that which
should be feared

'tis much he dares;

and, to that dauntless temper
of his mind, he hath a wisdom

that doth guide his valour
to act in safety.

There's none
but he whose being I do fear;

and, under him,
my genius is rebuked;

as, it is said, Mark Antony's
was by Caesar.

But let the frame
of things... disjoint,

both the worlds suffer,

ere we will eat our meal in fear

and sleep in the affliction

of these terrible dreams
that shake us nightly.

Better be with the dead,

whom we, to gain our peace,
have sent to peace,

than on the torture of the mind
to lie in restless... ecstasy.

Duncan is in his grave;

after life's fitful fever
he sleeps well;

treason has done his worst:
Nor steel, nor poison,

malice domestic, foreign Levy,

nothing...

Can touch him further.

Attend those men our pleasure?

They are, my lord,
without the palace gate.

Bring them before us.

Macbeth: Was it not yesterday
we spoke together?

It was, so please your highness.

Well, then,

now have you considered
of my speeches?

Know that it was he
in the times past

which held you so under fortune,

which you thought had
been our innocent self.

You made it known to us.

Do you find your Patience
so predominant in your nature

that you can let this go?

Are you so gospeled to pray

for this good man
and for his issue,

whose heavy hand hath bowed you
to the grave

and beggared yours forever?

We are men, my liege!

Macbeth: Ay, in the catalogue
ye go for men;

as hounds and greyhounds,
mongrels, spaniels, curs,

shoughs, water-rugs
and Demi-wolves

are clept all
by the name of dogs.

But if you have
a station in the file,

not I' the worst rank
of manhood.

- Say't!
- I am one, my liege,

whom the vile blows
and buffets of the world

have so incensed
that I am reckless

what I do to spite the world.

And I another.

Both of you know
banquo was your enemy.

Man: True, my lord.

So is he mine.

And in such bloody distance
that every minute of his being

thrusts against
my near'st of life.

We shall, my lord,
perform what you command us.

Your spirits shine through you.

Within this hour at most

I will advise you
where to plant yourselves;

acquaint you with
the perfect spy o' the time,

the moment on't

for't must be done tonight,
and something from the castle.

Always thought that I
require a clearness:

And with him to leave no rubs
nor botches in the work.

Fleance his son,

that keeps him company,

whose absence is
no less material to me

than is his father's.

Must embrace the fate
of that dark hour.

Resolve yourselves apart:

I'll come to you anon.

We are resolved, my lord.

It is concluded.

Banquo, thy soul's flight,
if it find heaven,

must find it out tonight.

Gentle, my lord, sleek
o'er your rugged looks.

Be bright and jovial
among your guests tonight.

0, full of scorpions is my mind,
dear wife!

Yet be thou jocund:

Ere the bat hath flown
his cloistered flight,

ere to black hecate's summons
the shard-borne beetle

with his drowsy hums hath
rung night's yawning peal,

there shall be done
a deed of dreadful note.

What's to be done?

Be innocent of the knowledge,
dearest Chuck,

till thou applaud the deed.

Come, seeling night,

scarf up the tender eye
of pitiful day;

and with thy bloody
and invisible hand

cancel and tear to pieces

that great bond
which keeps me pale!

Light thickens;

and the crow makes wing
to the rooky wood.

Good things of day begin
to droop and drowse,

while night's black agents
to their preys do rouse.

The west yet glimmers
with some streaks of day:

Now spurs
the iated traveller apace

to gain the timely inn;

and near approaches
the subject of our watch.

Hark!

- 'Tis he.
- Stand to't.

It will be rain tonight.

Let it come down.

Banquo:
Fly, good fleance, fly, fly!

The son is fled.

We've lost best half
of our affair.

Well, let's away,
and say how much is done.

- There's blood upon thy face.
- 'Tis banquo's then.

Is he dispatched?

My lord, his throat is cut;
That I did for him.

Thou art the best
0' the cut-throats:

Yet he's good that did the like
for fleance.

Most royal sir,
fleance is 'scaped.

Then comes my fit again

I had else been perfect,
whole as the marble,

founded as the rock,

as broad and general as
the casing air:

But now I am cabined,
cribbed, confined,

bound in to saucy doubts
and fears.

But banquo's safe?

Ay, my good lord:
Safe in a ditch he bides,

with twenty trenched gashes
in his head,

the least a death to nature.

Thanks for that.

Banquo: Thou hast it now: King,
cawdor, glamis, all; All,

as the weird women promised.

And, I fear, thou played'st
most foully for't.

Thou played'st most foully for't:

Yet it was said

it should not stand
in thy posterity,

but that myself should be
the root

and father of many kings.

Ma cbeth: Is't far you ride?

Banquo: As far, my lord
as will fill up the time

'twixt now and supper.

Ma cbeth: Fail not our feast.

Banquo: My lord, I will not.

I will not.

I will not.

I will not.

I will not fail your feast.

You know your own degrees.

Sit down.

And first and last
a hearty welcome.

Here had we now
our country's honour roofed,

were the graced person
of our banquo present;

his absence, sir, lays blame
upon his promise.

My royal lord, you do not
give the cheer.

Sweet remembrancer!

I drink to our good friend
banquo whom we miss!

Would he were here!

Which of you have done this?

What is't that
moves your highness?

Thou canst not say I did;

never shake thy
gory locks at me.

Gentlemen, rise.
His highness is not well.

Sit, worthy friends.

My lord is often thus,

and hath been from his youth.

0' look!

Lo!

How say you?

Think of this, good peers,
but as a thing of custom:

'Tis no other.

Only it spoils the pleasure
of the time.

Shame itself!

Why do you make such faces?

When all's done,
you look but on a stool.

Avaunt! And quit my sight!

Let the earth hide thee!

Thy bones are marrowless;
Thy blood is cold.

Thou hast no speculation
in those eyes

which thou dost glare with!

The fit is momentary;

upon a thought he will again
be well.

What man dare, I dare:

Approach thou like
the rugged Russian bear,

the armed rhinoceros,
or the hyrcan tiger.

Take any shape but that,

and my firm nerves
shall never tremble;

or be alive again,

and dare me to the desert
with thy sword.

If trembling I inhabit then,
protest me the baby of a girl.

Hence, horrible shadow!

This is the very painting
of your fear.

This is the air-drawn dagger

which, you said,
led you to Duncan.

Duncan!

Why, what care I?

If thou canst nod, speak too.

If charnel-houses and our graves

must send those
that we Bury back,

our monuments shall be
the maws of kites!

Fie, for shame!

Blood hath been shed ere now,

I' the olden time,
ere human statute

purged the gentle weal.

Ay, and since too,

murders have been performed
too terrible for the ear.

The time has been, that,
when the brains were out,

the man would die,

and there an end;
But now they rise again,

with twenty mortal murders
on their crowns,

and push us from our stools.

This is more strange
than such a murder is.

You make me strange

even to the disposition
that I owe,

when now I think you can
behold... such sights,

and keep the natural Ruby
of your cheeks,

when mine are blanched
with fear.

What sights, my lord?

I pray you, speak not; He
grows worse and worse.

Question enrages him.
At once, good night.

Stand not upon the order
of your going,

but go at once.

Good night; And better health
attend your majesty!

A kind good night to all!

It will have blood; They say,

blood will have blood.

Stones have been known to move

and trees to speak.

Augurs...

And understood relations have
by maggot pies

and choughs and rocks

brought forth the secret'st man
of blood.

What is the night?

Almost at odds with morning,
which is which.

How say'st thou,

that macduff denies his person
at our great bidding?

Did you send to him, sir?

I hear it by the way;

but I will send.

There's not a one of them
but in his house

I keep a servant fee'd.

More shall they speak;

for now I am bent to know,

by the worst means,

the worst.

How now, you secret,
black, and midnight hags!

I conjure you, by that
which you profess.

Howe'er you come to know it,
answer me.

Though you untie the winds

and let them fight
against the churches;

though yesty waves confound
and swallow navigation up;

though bladed corn be lodged
and trees blown down;

though castles topple on
their warders' heads;

though palaces
and pyramids do slope

their heads
to their foundations;

though the treasures
of nature's germens

tumble all together,

even till destruction sicken;

answer me!

Witch: Macbeth! Macbeth!
Macbeth! Beware macduff;

macduff, beware macduff!

He's fled to england.

But I'll reach him still;

give to the edge
0' the sword to his wife,

his babes,

and all unfortunate souls
that trace him in his line.

No boasting like a fool;

this deed I'll do
before this purpose cool.

Witch: Macbeth!

Witch 2: Be bloody, bold,
and resolute;

laugh to scorn the power of man;

for none of woman born
shall harm Macbeth.

Macbeth shall never
vanquished be

until great birnam wood
to high dunsinane hill.

Shall come against him.

That will never be.

Who can impress the forest,
bid the tree

unfix his earth-bound root?

Then live, macduff:
What need I fear of thee?

Witch 2: Beware macduff!
Beware macduff!

But yet I'll make assurance
double sure,

and take a bond of fate:
Thou shalt not live.

That I may tell
pale-hearted fear it lies,

and sleep in spite of thunder.

Witch: Macbeth shall never
vanquished be till birnam forest

come to dunsinane.

Sweet bodements! Good!

Rebellion's head, rise never
till the wood of birnam rise,

and our high-placed Macbeth
shall live the lease of nature,

pay his breath to time
and mortal custom.

What, is this so?

Witch: Ay, sir, all this is so.

Your father's dead, my child;
And what will you do now?

My father is not dead,
for all your saying.

Yes, he is dead;

how wilt thou do for a father?

Nay, how will you do
for a husband?

Why, I can buy me twenty
at any market.

Then you'll buy 'em
to sell again.

Thou speak'st with all thy wit:

And yet, I' faith,
with wit enough for thee.

Was my father a traitor, mother?

Ay, that he was.

Boy: What is a traitor?

Why, one that swears and lies.

And be all traitors that do so?

Every one that does so
is a traitor,

and must be hanged.

And must they all be hanged
that swear and lie?

- Every one.
- Who must hang them?

Why, the honest men.

Then the liars
and swearers are fools,

for there are liars
and swearers enough

to beat the honest men
and hang up them.

Now, god help thee, poor monkey!

How wilt thou do for a father?

If he were dead,
you'd weep for him;

if you would not,

it were a good sign

that I should quickly
have a new father.

Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

Bless you, fair dame!

I doubt some danger does
approach you nearly.

Be not found here; Hence,
with your little ones.

To fright you thus,
methinks, I am too savage;

to do worse to you
were fell cruelty,

which is too near your person.

Heaven preserve you!

- Whither should I fly?
- I must abide no longer.

I've done no harm.

Where is your husband?

I hope, in no place
so unsanctified

where such as thou
mayst find him.

- Ma cbeth: He's a traitor.
- Thou iiest!

He has killed me, mother!

Nought's had, all's spent,

where our desire is
got without content.

I am in blood steeped in so far
that should I Wade no more,

returning were as tedious
as go o'er:

'Tis safer to be that
which we destroy

than by destruction
dwell in doubtful joy.

Each new morn, new widows howl,

new orphans cry,

new sorrows strike
heaven on the face,

that it resounds
as if it felt with Scotland,

and yelled out like
syllable of dolour.

- I am not treacherous.
- But Macbeth is.

I think our country
sinks beneath the yoke.

It weeps, it bleeds;

and each new day a gash
is added to her wounds.

I think withal there would be
hands uplifted in my right;

and here from gracious england

have I offer of
goodly thousands.

See who comes here.

Good god,

betimes remove the means
that makes us strangers!

Sirs, amen.

Stands Scotland where it did?

Alas, poor country!

Almost afraid to know itself.

It cannot be called our mother,
but our grave;

where nothing,
but who knows nothing,

is once seen to smile.

Where sighs and groans
and shrieks that rend the air

are made, not marked;

where violent sorrow
seems a modern ecstasy;

the dead man's knell is
there scarce asked for who;

and good men's lives expire

before the flowers
in their caps,

dying or ere they sicken.

How does my wife?

Why, well.

And all my children?

Well, too.

The tyrant has not battered
at their peace?

No; They were well at peace
when I did leave 'em.

But not a niggard
of your speech:

How goes't?

Now is the time of help;

your eye in Scotland
would create soldiers,

make our women fight,
to doff their dire distresses.

Be't their comfort.
We are coming thither.

Gracious england hath
lent us lord siward

and ten thousand men.

An older
and a better soldier none

that christendom gives out.

Would I could answer this
comfort with the like!

But I have words that would be
howled out in the desert air,

where hearing
should not latch them.

What concern they?

The... general cause?

No mind that's honest
but in it shares some woe;

though the main part pertains
to you alone.

Let not your ears despise
my tongue forever,

that shall possess them
with the heaviest sound

that ever yet they heard.

I guess at it.

- Your castle is surprised.
- No!

Your wife and babes
savagely slaughtered.

Give sorrow words:
The grief that does not speak

whispers the o'er-fraught heart
and bids it break.

My children, too?

Wife, children, servants,
all that could be found.

And I must be from thence!

Be my wife killed, too?

Be comforted:

Let's make us medicines
of our great revenge,

to cure this deadly grief.

He has no children.

All my pretty ones?

Did you say "all"?

0 hell-kite! All?

What,

All my pretty chickens
and their dam

at one fell swoop?

- Dispute it like a man.
- I shall do so.

But I must also
feel it as a man.

I cannot but remember
such things were,

that were most precious to me.

Did heaven look on,
and would not take their part?

Be this the whetstone
of your sword.

Let grief convert to anger!
Blunt not the heart, enrage it!

O, I could play the woman
with mine eyes

and braggart with my tongue!

But, gentle heavens,

cut short all intermission;

front to front

bring thou this fiend
of Scotland and myself;

within my sword's length set him

if he 'scape,

heaven forgive him, too!

This tune goes manly.

Come, go we to the king!

Our power is ready;

our lack is nothing
but our leave.

Macbeth is ripe for shaking,

and the powers above
put on their instruments.

Receive what cheer you may:

The night is long
that never finds the day.

Halt!

How does the tyrant?

Great dunsinane
he strongly fortifies.

Some say he's mad.

Others that lesser hate him
do call it Valiant fury.

But, for certain,

he cannot buckle his
distempered cause

within the belt of rule.

Now does he feel
his secret murders

sticking on his hands;

those he commands move only
in command, nothing in love.

Now does he feel his title
hang loose about him,

like a giant's robe
upon a dwarfish thief.

Forward!

Ma cbeth: Fly!

Ma cbeth: Fly!

Macbeth:
Bring me no more reports;

let them fly all.

Till birnam wood remove
to dunsinane,

I cannot taint with fear.

What's the boy Malcolm?

Was he not born of woman?

The spirits that know
all mortal consequences have

pronounced me thus:

"Fear not, Macbeth;

no man that's born of woman

shall e'er have
power upon thee."

Then, fly, false thanes,

and mingle
with the English epicures:

The devil damn thee black,
thou cream-faced loon!

Where got'st thou
that goose look?

- There is ten thousand...
- Geese, villain!

- Soldiers, sir.

Go prick thy face,
and over-red thy fear,

thou Lily-iivered boy.

What soldiers, patch?

Death of my soul!

Those linen cheeks of thine
are counsellors to fear!

What soldiers, whey-face?

The English force,
so please you.

Take thy face hence.

Seyton!

I'm sick at heart,
when I behold.

Seyton, I say!

This push will cheer me ever,

or... disseat me now.

I have lived... long enough.

My way of life is fall'n
into the sear,

the yellow leaf;

and that which
should accompany old age,

as honour, love, obedience,
troops of friends,

I must not look to have.

But, in their stead,

curses, not loud but deep,

mouth-honour, breath,

which the poor heart
would fain deny,

and dare not.

Seyton!

What's your gracious pleasure?

What news more?

All is confirmed, my lord,
which was reported.

Give me mine armour!

Send out more horses.

Skirr the country round.

Hang those that talk of fear.

Give me mine armour.

How does your patient, doctor?

Not so sick, my lord,
as she is troubled

with thick coming fancies,

that keep her from her rest.

Cure her of that.

Canst thou not minister
to a mind diseased,

pluck from the memory
a rooted sorrow,

raze out all written troubles
of the brain,

and... with some sweet
oblivious antidote

cleanse the stuffed bosom
of that perilous stuff,

which weighs upon the heart?

Therein the patient
must minister to himself.

Throw physic to the dogs;
I'll none of it.

Come,

put mine armour on;

Give me my staff.

Seyton, send out.

Doctor, the thanes fly from me.

Come, sir, dispatch.

If thou couldst, doctor,

cast the water of my land,

find her disease,

and purge it to a sound
and pristine health,

I should applaud thee
to the very echo

that should applaud again.

Pull't off, I say.

What rhubarb, senna,
what purgative drug,

would scour these English hence?

I will not be afraid
of death and bane,

till birnam forest
come to dunsinane.

Halt!

What wood is this before us?

The wood of birnam.

Let every soldier
hew him down a bough.

And bear't before him.

Thereby shall we shadow.

The numbers of our host

and make discovery
err in report of us.

It shall be done.

I have two nights
watched with you,

but can perceive no truth
in your report.

Doctor, I have seen her
rise from her bed,

throw her night-gown upon her,

unlock her closet,

take forth paper, fold it,

write upon't, read it,
afterwards seal it,

and again return to bed;

yet all this while
in a most fast sleep.

What, at any time,
have you heard her say?

That, doctor, which I will
not report after her.

You may to me:
And 'tis most meet you should.

Lo you, here she comes!
And, upon my life, fast asleep.

How came she by that light?

She has light
by her continually;

'tis her command.

- You see, her eyes are open.
- Ay, but their sense is shut.

Yet here's a spot.

Look, how she rubs her hands.

It is an accustomed action
with her,

to seem thus washing her hands.

Out, damned spot! Out, I say!

One: Two: Why, then,
'tis time to do't.

Hell... is murky!

Fie, my lord, fie!

Do you Mark that?

Yet who would have
thought the old man

to have had so much blood
in him.

The thane of fife

had a wife

where is she now?

What, will these hands
ne'er be clean?

No more 0' that, my lord,

no more o'that, you mar all
with this starting.

Go to, go to;

you have known what
you should not.

She has spoke what she
should not,

I am sure of that.

Yet...

Here's the smell
of the blood still.

All the perfumes of Arabia

will not sweeten
this little hand.

The heart is sorely charged.

I would not have such a heart
in my bosom

for the dignity
of the whole body.

Wash your hands,
put on your nightgown;

look not so pale.

I tell you yet again,

banquo's buried;

he cannot come out on's grave.

Hark.

There's knocking at the gate:

To bed, to bed!

Come, come, come,
come, give me your hand.

What's done cannot be undone.

To bed, to bed!

God...

God forgive us all!

What is that noise?

Seyton: It is the cry of women,
my good lord.

I have almost forgot
the taste of fears;

the time has been,

my senses would have cooled
to hear a night-shriek.

And my fell of hair
would at a dismal treatise

rouse and stir
as life were in't.

I have supped full with horrors.

Direness, familiar
to my slaughterous thoughts

cannot once start me.

Wherefore was that cry?

Woman: The queen, my lord,
is dead.

She should have died hereafter.

There would have been a time
for such a word.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow,

and tomorrow,

creeps in this petty pace
from day to day

to the last syllable
of recorded time,

and all our yesterdays have
lighted fools the way

to dusty death.

Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow,

a poor player that struts

and frets his hour
upon the stage

and then is heard no more.

It is a tale told by an idiot,

full of sound and fury,

signifying nothing.

Man: Gracious my lord!

I should report that
which I say I saw,

but know not how to do it.

Well, say, sir.

As I did stand my watch
upon the hill,

I looked toward birnam,
and anon, methought,

the wood began to move.

If thou speak'st false,

upon the next tree
shalt thou hang alive,

till famine cling thee.

If thy speech be sooth,

I care not if thou dost
for me as much.

I pull in resolution,

and begin to doubt
the equivocation

of the fiend
that lies like truth.

"Fear not, till birnam wood
do come to dunsinane;“

and now a wood
comes toward dunsinane.

Arm, arm, and out!

There is nor flying hence
nor tarrying here.

I 'gin to be aweary of the sun,

and wish the estate 0' the world
were now undone.

Ring the alarum bell!

Seyton!

Blow, wind! Come, wrack!

At least we'll die with harness
on our back.

I cannot strike
at wretched kerns,

whose arms are hired
to bear their staves.

Either thou, Macbeth,
or else my sword

with an unbattered edge

I sheathe again undeeded.

Our castle's strength...

Will laugh a siege to scorn.

Here let you lie

till famine and the ague
eat you up.

Were you not forced

with those that should be ours,

we might have met you dareful,

beard to beard,

and beat you backward home.

This way, my lord;
Our castle's gently rendered.

We have met with foes
that strike beside us.

What's he that was not born
of woman?

Such a one am I to fear,
or none.

Abhorred tyrant!

Thou wast born of woman;

but swords I smile at,
weapons laugh to scorn,

brandished by man that's
of a woman born.

Macduff: Tyrant, show thy face!

If thou be'st slain and
with no stroke of mine,

my wife and children's ghosts
will haunt me still.

Turn, hell-hound, turn!

Of all men else I have
avoided thee;

but get thee back.

My soul is too much charged
with blood of thine already.

I have no words; My voice is
in my sword.

I bear a charmed life,
which must not yield,

to one of woman born.

Despair thy charm.

And let the devil whom
thou still hast served

tell thee,

macduff was
from his mother's womb

untimely ripped.

Witch: Untimely ripped!

Macbeth: Accursed be
that tongue that tells me so,

and be these juggling fiends
no more believed,

that palter with us
in a double sense;

that keep the word of promise
to our ear,

and break it to our hope!

I'll not fight with thee.

Then yield thee, coward,

and live to be the show
and gaze o' the time.

We'll have thee,
as our rarer monsters are,

painted upon a pole,
and underwrit,

'here may you see the tyrant.'

I will not yield,

to kiss the ground
before young Malcolm's feet,

and to be baited
with the rabble's curse.

Though birnam wood be come
to dunsinane,

and thou opposed,

being of no woman born,

yet I will try the last.

Lay on, macduff.

And damned be him
that first cries,

'hold, enough!'

Hail, king!

For so thou art.

Behold, where stands
the usurper's cursed head.

The time is free.

Hail, Malcolm, king of Scotland!

All: Hail! Hail!

Hail! Hail!

Hail! Hail!

Hail! Hail!

Hail! Hail!

Witch: Peace!

The charm's wound up.