Macbeth (1971) - full transcript

Roman Polanski's version of Shakespeare's tragedy about a Scottish lord who murders the king and ascends the throne. His wife then begins hallucinating as a result of her guilt complex and the dead king's son conspires to attack Macbeth and expose him for the murderer he is.

ALL: Fair is foul and foul is fair.

Hover through the fog and filthy air.

When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning or in rain?

When the hurlyburly's done.
When the battle's lost and won.

- That would be ere the set of sun.
- Where the place?

Upon the heath.

There to meet with Macbeth.

DUNCAN: What bloody man is that?
MALCOLM: Hail, brave friend!

Say to the King thy knowledge
of the broil as thou didst leave it.

Doubtful it stood.

The merciless Macdonwald led
his rebellion from the Western Isles.

And fortune on
his damned quarrel smiled.

But, brave Macbeth...

SOLDIER: Well he deserves that name!

CAPTAIN: Carved out a passage
till he faced the slave.

And ne'er shook hands
nor bade farewell to him,

till he unseamed him
from the nave to the chops.

Valiant cousin! Worthy gentlemen...

CAPTAIN: Upon this chance did the
Norwegian King with furbished arms

with new supplies of men,
begin a fresh assault.

DUNCAN: Dismayed not this our
captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

Yes. As sparrows eagles,
or the hare the lion.

So well thy words become
thee as thy wounds.

They smack of honour both.

Go get him surgeons.

ROSS: God save the King.
DUNCAN: What news, my worthy thane?

Norway himself, in terrible numbers,

assisted by this most disloyal
traitor, the Thane of Cawdor,

began a dismal conflict till that
Bellona's bridegroom, bold Macbeth

confronts the king, rebellious arm
against arm, curbing his lavish spirit.

And to conclude,
the victory fell on us!

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.

MACBETH: So foul and fair a day
I have not seen.

What are these?

So withered and so wild
in their attire

that look not like inhabitants
of the Earth. and yet are on it?

MACBETH: Speak, if you can.
What are you?

All hail, Macbeth.
Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis.

WITCH 1: All hail, Macbeth.
Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor.

All hail, Macbeth,
that shall be king hereafter.

In the name of truth,

are ye fantastical, or that indeed
which outwardly you show?

BANQOU: My noble partner you greet with
present grace, and great prediction

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.


WITCH 2: Hail! Lesser than Macbeth,
and greater.

WITCH 1: Not so happy, yet much happier.

WITCH 2: Thou shalt beget kings,
though thou be none.

So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo.

WITCH 2: Banquo and Macbeth, all hail.

Stay, you imperfect speakers!
Tell me more.

By Sinel's death,
I know I am Thane of Glamis.

But how of Cawdor?

Say from whence you owe
this strange intelligence.

Or why upon this blasted heath you stop
our way with such prophetic greeting?

BANQOU: Whither are they vanished?

Into the air.

And what seemed corporal melted,
as breath into the wind.

BANQOU: Were such things here
as we do speak about?

Or have we eaten of the insane root
that takes the reason prisoner?

MACBETH: Your children shall be kings.

- You shall be king.
And Thane of Cawdor too. Went it not so?

To the selfsame tune and words.

MACBETH: The Thane of Cawdor lives.

And to be king

stands not within
the prospect of belief.

No more than to be Cawdor.

The King hath happily received, Macbeth,
the news of thy success.

As thick as hail came post with post,
and everyone did bear thy praises

in his kingdoms great defences.

ANGUS: 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.


Can the devil speak true?

The Thane of Cawdor lives.

Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?

ROSS: 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.

MACBETH: Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor.

The greatest is behind.

Thanks for your pains.

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.

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.

MACBETH: 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 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 smothered
in surmise

and nothing is but what is not.

I thank you, gentlemen.

Look how our partner's rapt.

MACBETH: If chance will have me king, why
chance may crown me without my stir.

BANQOU: Worthy Macbeth!

We stay upon your leisure.

Give me your favour, my dull brain
was wrought with things forgotten.

Let us to the King.

Long live the King.

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
a mind's construction in the face.

He was a gentlemen
on whom I built an absolute trust.

LADY M: "Hail, king that shalt be.

This have I thought good
to deliver thee...

my dearest partner of greatness

that thou might not be ignorant
of what greatness is promised thee.

Lay it to thy heart, and farewell."

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor

and shalt be what thou art promised.

Yet I do fear thy nature.

It is too full of the milk of human
kindness to catch the nearest way.

Thou wouldst be great

art not without ambition, but
without the illness should attend it.

What thou wouldst highly,
that thou wouldst holily.

wouldst not play false,
and yet wouldst wrongly win.

Hie thee hither, that I may pour
my spirits in thine ear.

ALL: Hail, Macbeth!
Hail, Thane of Cawdor!

O' worthiest cousin! The sin of
my ingratitude even now was heavy on me.

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.

Welcome hither. I have begun to plant thee

and will labour to make thee full of growing.

Noble Banquo,
that has no less deserved

let me enfold thee
and hold thee to my heart.

There if I grow,
the harvest is your own.

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.

Hail, Prince of Cumberland!

ALL: Hail, Prince of Cumberland!

DUNCAN: Go hence to Inverness
and bind us further to you.

I'll be myself the messenger

and make joyful the hearing
of my wife with your approach.

So humbly take my leave.
- My worthy Cawdor.

It is a peerless kinsman.

The Prince of Cumberland!

That is a step on which I must
fall down, or else o'erleap.

For in my way it lies.

ALL: Macbeth! Macbeth!

Stars, hide your fires.

Let not light see my black
and deep desires.

Great Glamis. Worthy Cawdor.

Greater than both
by the all-hail hereafter.

Thy letter 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.

Never shall sun that morrow see.

Your face, my Thane, is as a book
where men may read strange matters.

He that's coming must be provided for.

And you shall put this night's
great business into my dispatch.

We will speak further.

Look like the innocent flower,
but be the serpent under it.

Leave all the rest to me.

LADY M: The 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 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.

This castle hath a pleasant seat.

The air nimbly and sweetly recommends
itself unto our gentle senses.

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!'

Fair and noble hostess,
we are your guest tonight.

Your servant ever.

Give me your hand.

Conduct me to mine host.

We love him highly and shall
continue our graces towards him.

MACBETH: 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.

ALL: Health to this household!

MACBETH: But in these cases,
we still have judgement here,

that we but teach
bloody instructions

which, being taught,
return to plague the inventor.

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 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 cherubin

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 side.

LADY M: Why have you 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 golden opinions
from all sorts of people

which would be worn 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 act and valour as thou art in desire?

Prithee, peace.

wouldst live a coward in thine own esteem,

letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would"?

Like the poor cat in the adage?

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.

Hail, Thane of Cawdor.

If we should fail?

We fail.

But screw your courage to
the sticking-place and we'll not fail.

Duncan's two chamberlains
will I with wine and wassail so convince

that memory, the warder
of the brain, shall be a fume.

I'll drug their possets.

When in swinish sleep their drenched
natures lie as in a death

what cannot you and I perform
upon the unguarded Duncan?

MACBETH: Bring forth men-children only,

for thy undaunted mettle
should compose nothing but males.

BANQOU: How goes the night, boy?

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

- And she goes down at 12.
- I take it 'tis later, sir.

Take my sword.

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.

Who's there?

MACBETH: A friend.

What, sir, not yet at rest?
The King's abed.

He hath been in unusual pleasure

and sent great largess
to your offices.

- Being unprepared, our will
became the servant to defect.

All's well.

I dreamt last night
of the three weird sisters.

To you they have showed some truth.
- I think not of them.

Yet, when we can entreat
an hour to serve

we would spend it in words upon
that business if you would grant the time.

At your kindest leisure.

It shall make honour for you.

So I lose none in seeking to
augment it. I shall be counselled.

Good repose the while.

Thanks, sir. The like to you.

MACBETH: Is this a dagger
which I see before me,

the handle toward my hand?


let me clutch thee.

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

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 yet,

in form as palpable as this
which now I draw.

Thou marshall'st me the way
that I was going.

And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools
of the other senses

or else worth all the rest.

I see thee still!

And on thy blade and dudgeon
gouts of blood,

which was not so before.

There's no such thing.

It is the bloody business
which informs thus to mine eyes.

Now o'er the one half-world
nature seems dead

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.

Thou sure and firm-set earth

hear not my steps,
which way they walk

for fear the very stones prate
of my whereabouts.

Hear it not, Duncan

for it is a knell
that summons thee to heaven

or to hell.


LADY M: Hark!

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

The attempt and not the deed
confounds us.


Peace! It was the owl that shrieked,

the fatal bellman, which gives
the sternest good night.

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?

- Ay.
- Hark!

- Who lies in the second chamber?
- Donalbain.

This is a sorry sight.

A foolish thought,
to say a sorry sight.

Methought I heard a voice cry,

"Sleep no more. Macbeth
does murder sleep."

The innocent sleep, sleep that
knits up the ravelled sleave of care.

The death of each day's life, sore
labour's bath, balm of hurt minds.

Great nature's second course,
chief nourisher in life's feast.

- What do you mean?
- Still it cried

to all the house,
"Glamis hath murdered sleep

and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more.
Macbeth shall sleep no more!"

- Who was it that thus cried?

These deeds must not be thought
after these ways so,

it will make us mad.


Get some water, and wash
this filthy witness from your hands.

Why did you bring these daggers
from the place?

They must lie there.

I'll go no more.

I am afraid to think what I have done.
Look on it again I dare not.

Infirm of purpose!

Give me the daggers.

If he do bleed

l'll gild the faces
of the grooms withal

for it must seem their guilt.

Whence is that knocking?

How is it with me,
when every noise appals me?

What hands are here?
They pluck out mine eyes!

Will great Neptune's ocean wash
this blood clean from my hand?

No, this my hand will rather

the multitudinous seas

making the green one red.

My hands are of your colour,

but I scorn to wear
a heart so white.

A little water clears us of this deed.

LADY M: How easy is it, then!

Retire we to our chamber.

Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us
and show us to be watchers.

Be not lost so poorly
in your thoughts.

To know my deed,
'twere best not know myself.

MACBETH: Wake Duncan with thy knocking!

I would thou couldst.

PORTER: Here's a knocking indeed!

If a man were porter of hell gate,
he'd have less turning the key.

Who's there, in the name of Beelzebub?

Knock, knock. Who's there,
in the other devil's name?

Knock, knock.
Never at quiet. What are you?

One that goes the primrose way
to the everlasting bonfire?

I'll devil-porter it no further.

This place is too cold for hell.

Anon, anon!

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

and drink, sir, is a great provoker
of three things.

- What three things?
- Marry, sir. Nose-painting, sleep and urine.

Lechery, sir, it provokes
and it unprovokes.

It provokes the desire
but takes away the performance.

It makes you, it mars you,
it sets you on

it takes you off, it persuades you,
it disheartens you

it makes you stand to
and not stand to.

- I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
- That it did, sir, in the very throat

Is thy master stirring?

MACBETH: Good morrow.
- Good morrow, noble sir.

MACDUFF: Is the King stirring, worthy Thane?
- Not yet.

MACDUFF: He did command me to call
timely on him. I have almost slipped the hour.

I'll bring you to him.

This is the door.

I'll make so bold to call,
for 'tis my appointed service.

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,

lamentings heard in the air,
strange screams of death.

Some say the earth was
feverous and did shake.

'Twas a rough night.
MACDUFF: Oh, horror!

- Horror, horror!

- Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
- What's the matter?

Murder hath broke open the Lord's anointed
temple, and stole thence the life of the building!

- They life? What is it you say?
- Mean you His Majesty?

Do not bid me speak.

See, and then speak yourselves.



Ring the alarm bell!

Murder and treason!

Malcolm and Donalbain!
Banquo! Awake!

Shake off this downy sleep, death's
counterfeit, and look on death itself!

Up! Up!
And see the great doom's image.

Fleance! Banquo!
Rise up as from your graves

and walk like spirits
to countenance this horror.

Ring the bell!

LADY M: What's the business,
that a hideous trumpet calls

to parley the sleepers
of the house? Speak! Speak!

Gentle lady, 'tis not for you
to hear what I can speak.

O Banquo, Banquo. Our royal master's murdered.

LADY M: Woe, alas!

What, in our house?

Too cruel anywhere.

I prithee, contradict thyself,
and say it is not so.

Had I but died 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.

- What is amiss?
- You are, and do not know it.

Your royal father's murdered.

By whom?

Those of his chambers, it seemed,
had done it.

Their hands and faces were all badged with blood.
So were their daggers.

O, yet I do repent me of my fury
that I did kill them.

Wherefore did you so?

Who can be wise, amazed,
temperate and furious

loyal and neutral
in a moment? No man!

Here lay Duncan,
his silver skin laced with his golden blood.

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

Who could refrain,
that had a heart to love?

And in that heart, courage
to make his love known?

Let's briefly put on manly readiness
and meet in the hall together

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.

Against the undivulged pretence
I fight of treasonous malice.

- So do I.
- So all.

What will you do?

Let's not consort with them.

- I'll to England.
- To Ireland, I.

Our separated fortune shall
keep us both the safer.

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

This murderous shaft that's shot
hath not yet lighted.

Therefore to horse.

And let us not be dainty
of leave-taking.

Shift away.

ROSS: How goes the world, Macduff?

Why? See you not?

Is it known who did
this more than bloody deed?

Those that Macbeth hath slain.

Alas, the day! What good could they expect?

They were suborned.

Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's
two sons, are stole away and fled

which puts upon them
suspicion of the deed.

Then 'tis most like the sovereignty
will fall upon Macbeth.

He's already named
and gone to Scone to be invested.

- Will you to Scone?
- No, cousin, I'll home to Fife.

ROSS: Well, I will thither.

Well, may you see things well done there.

BANQOU: Thou hast it now.

King, Cawdor, Glamis

all as the weird women promised.

And I fear thou play'dst
most foully for it.

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

But that myself should be
the root and father of many kings.

If there comes truth from them

may they not be
my oracles as well

and set me up in hope?

ROSS: Hail, Macbeth!
Hail, King of Scotland!

ALL: Hail, Macbeth!
Hail, King of Scotland!

Here's our chief guest.

If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast.

Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir,
and I'll request your presence.

Let Your Highness command upon me

to the which my duties are with
a most indissoluble tie for ever knit.

- Ride you this afternoon?
- Ay, my good lord.

Is it 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.

We hear our bloody cousins are
bestowed in England and Ireland

not confessing
their cruel parricide.

But of that tomorrow. Hie you to
horse. Adieu till you return at night.

- Goes Fleance with you?
- Ay, my good lord.

I wish your horses swift
and sure of foot. Farewell.

- Attend those men our leisure?
- They do, my lord.

Bring them before us.

To be thus is nothing,
but to be safely thus.

Our fears in Banquo stick deep.
And in his royalty of nature

he hath a wisdom that doth guide
his valour to act in safety.

There is none but he
whose being I do fear.

And under him my genius is rebuked.

We'll keep ourself till suppertime
alone. Till then, God be with you.

MACBETH: 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 grip.

Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal
hand, no son of mine succeeding.

If it be so

for Banquo's sons
have I defiled my mind.

For them the gracious Duncan
have I murdered.

To make them kings.
The seeds of Banquo kings.

Stay within call.

- 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 times past
which held you so under fortune,

which you thought had been
our innocent self.

You made this known to us.

Do you find your patience so predominant
in your nature that you can let this go?

Are you so gospell'd to pray for
this good man and for his issue

whose heavy hand has bowed you to
the grave and beggared yours forever?

We are men, my liege.

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.

And so of men.

Now, if you have a station
in the file

not in the worst rank
of manhood, say it.

And I will put that business
in your bosoms

whose execution takes
your enemy off

grapples you to the heart
and love of us

who wear our health
but sickly in his life

which in his death were perfect.

I am one, my liege,

whom the vile blows and buffets of
the world have so incensed that I,

I am reckless what I do
to spite the world.

And I another.

Both of you know
Banquo was your enemy.

- Ay, my lord.
- Aye my lord but..
MACBETH: So is he mine!

And though I could with barefaced power
sweep him from my sight

and bid my will avouch it.

Yet I must not, for certain friends

that are both his and mine,
whose loves I may not drop.

And thence it is, that I to
your assistance do make love

masking the business from the
common eye for sundry weighty reasons.

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

- Though our lives...
- Your spirits shine through you.

It must be done tonight,
and some way from the palace.

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.
- We are resolved, my lord.

Advise them where
to plant themselves.

How now, my lord?

Why do you keep alone

of sorriest fancies
your companions making?

Things without all remedy should be
without regard. What's done is done.

We have scorched the snake,
not killed it.

But let the frame of things disjoint.
Ere we'll eat our meal in fear

and sleep in the affliction of the
terrible dreams that shake us nightly.

Better be with the dead

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.

Not steel, nor poison,

malice domestic, foreign levy,
nothing can touch him further.

LADY M: Come on. Gentle, my Lord.

Sleek o'er your rugged looks.

Be bright and jovial
among your guests tonight.

So shall I, love.

And so, I pray, be you.

MACBETH: Full of scorpions is my mind,
dear wife.

Thou know'st that Banquo
and his Fleance live.

LADY M: But in them
nature's copy is not eterne.

MACBETH: There's comfort yet.
They are assailable.

Then 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 prey do rouse.

1ST MURDERER: Who did bid thee
join with us?


2ND MURDERER: He needs not our mistrust
since he delivers our offices

and what we have to do
to the direction just.

Well, stand with us. The west yet
glimmers with some streaks of day.

And near approaches
the subject of our watch.

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?

It will be rain tonight.

2ND MURDERER: Let it come down!


BANQOU: Fly, good Fleance, fly!



There's blood upon thy face.

- 'Tis Banquo's then.
- Is he despatched?

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

Thou art the best of the cutthroats.

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

If thou didst that,
thou art the nonpareil.

Most royal sir, Fleance is escaped.

Then comes my fit again.

I had else been perfect, whole as
the marble, founded as the rock.

MACBETH: But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined,
bound in to saucy doubts and fears.

- But Banquo's safe?
- Ay, my good lord.

Safe in a ditch he bides,
with 20 trenched gashes on his head.

There the grown serpent lies.

The worm that's fled hath nature
that in time will venom breed.

No teeth for the present.

Get thee gone. Tomorrow
we'll hear ourselves again.

MACBETH: You know your own degrees. Sit down.
At first and last, a hearty welcome.

Thanks to Your Majesty.

Our hostess keeps her state.

Ourself will mingle with society
and play the humble host.

- My royal lord, you do not give the cheer.
- Sweet remembrancer.

I drink to the general joy
of the whole table

and to our dear friend Banquo,
whom we miss. Would he were here.

ALL: Banquo!

Now good digestion wait on
appetite, and health on both!

May it please Your Highness, sit.

Please it Your Highness to grace us
with your royal company?

- The table's full.
- Here is a place reserved, sir.

- Where?
- Here, my good lord.

- Which of you have done this?
- What, my good Lord?

MACBETH: Thou canst not say I did it.

- Never shake thy gory locks at me.
ROSS: Gentlemen rise. His Highness is not well.

Sit, worthy friends. My lord is often thus
and hath been from his youth.

Pray you keep seat. The fit is momentary,
upon a thought he will again be well.

LADY M: Are you a man?

Ay, and a bold one that dare look
on that which might appal the devil.

O, proper stuff!

This is the very painting
of your fear.

This is the air-drawn dagger which
you said led you to Duncan.

Shame itself!

Why do you make such faces? When
all's done, you look but on a stool.

Prithee, see there!
Behold! Look! How say you?

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.

What man dare, I dare.

Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
shall never tremble.

Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence!

LADY M: What?

Quite unmanned in folly.

- If I stand here, I saw him.
- Fie, for shame!

Blood hath been shed ere now,
in the olden time.

Ay, and since too, murders have been
performed too terrible for the ear.

Time has been that when the brains
were out, a man would die

and there an end.

But now they rise again,

with 20 mortal gashes on
their crowns and push us from our stools

You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,
with most admired disorder.

Can such things be and overwhelm us
like a summer's cloud

without our special wonder?

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 is blanched with fear.

LENNOX: 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 His Majesty.

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.

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?

How know you this, my lord?

I hear it by the way.

There's not a one of them, but
in his house I keep a servant paid.

You lack the season
of all natures, sleep.

Come, we'll to sleep.

MACBETH: I must again to the weird sisters.
More shall they speak.

For now I am bent to know,
by the worst means, the worst.

For mine own good,
all causes shall give way.

I'm in blood, stepped in so far
that should I wade no more

returning were
as tedious as go o'er.

Strange things I have in head
that will to hand

which must be acted,
ere they may be scanned.

We are yet but young in deed.

By the pricking of my thumbs,
something wicked this way comes.

MACBETH: How now, you secret, black and
midnight hags? What is't you do?

A deed without a name.

ALL: Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn, cauldron bubble.

Toad that under cold stone,
days and nights has 31.

Sweltered venom sleeping got,
boil thou first in the charmed pot.

Eye of newt and toe of frog,
wool of bat and tongue of dog.

Adder's fork and blindworm's sting,
lizard's leg and howlet's wing.

Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
silvered in the moon's eclipse.

Fillet of a fenny snake,
in the cauldron boil and bake.

Liver of blaspheming Jew,
gall of goat and slips of yew.

I conjure you, by that which you
profess, howe'er you come to know it.

- Answer me to what I ask you.
- Speak!

- Demand.
- We'll answer.

Say if thou'dst hear it from
our mouths, or from our masters.

Call them, let me see them.

Cool it with a baboon's blood,
then the charm is firm and good.

- Tell me, thou unknown power
- He knows thy thought.

- Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth.

Beware Macduff.
Beware the Thane of Fife.

Thou hast harped my fear aright.

But one word more
- He will not be commanded.

Be bloody, bold and resolute.
Laugh to scorn the power of man.

For none of woman born
shall harm Macbeth.

None of woman born
shall harm Macbeth.

Then live Macduff.
What need I fear of thee?

But yet I'll make assurance double sure
and take a bond of fate.

Thou shalt not live!

- Macbeth shall never vanquished be.
- Never, never.

Until Great Birnam Wood

to high Dunsinane Hill
shall come against him.

MACBETH: That will never be!
Who can recruit the forest?

Bid the tree unfix
his earth-bound root?

Sweet bodements, good!

Yet my heart throbs
to know one thing:

Shall Banquo's issue ever reign in this kingdom?
- Seek to know no more.

I will be satisfied! Deny me this
and an eternal curse fall on you!

Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo.
Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs.

What, will the line stretch out
to the crack of doom?

Now I see 'tis true.

For the blood-boltered Banquo
smiles upon me

and points at them for his!

Where are they?


Infected be the air whereon they ride!

And damned all those that trust them!

Macduff is fled.

- Can you tell where he bestows himself?
- In the English court.

Where lives the son of Duncan.

Thither Macduff is gone to pray
the holy King upon his aid

to wake Northumberland
and warlike Seyward.

That by the help of these, we may again
give to our tables meat

sleep to our nights, our feasts and
banquets free from bloody knives.

Some holy angel fly to court of England

that a swift blessing may soon
return to this, our suffering country.

MAID: Gentle lady.

Gracious Duncan's dead.

Gracious Duncan was pitied
of Macbeth. Marry, he was dead.

The right valiant Banquo walked too late.

Whom, you may say, if't please you,
Fleance killed, for Fleance fled.

Man must not walk too late.

How monstrous it was for Malcolm
and Donalbain to kill their gracious father?

Damned, indeed.
How it did grieve Macbeth.

- I do think that had he Duncan's sons under his key
- As, an't please heaven, he shall not.

They should find what
it were to kill a father.

So should Fleance.


What news?

Macduff is fled to England.

- Fled to England?
- Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH: Time, thou anticipat'st
my dread exploits.

MACBETH: The castle of Macduff
I will surprise. Seize upon Fife.

Give to the edge of the sword
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 the purpose cool.

ROSS: 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 if it
was wisdom or his fear.

Wisdom? To leave his wife, to leave his babes,
his mansion

and his titles in a place
from whence himself does fly?

He loves us not.
He wants a natural touch.

For the poor wren, the most
diminutive of birds, will fight

her young ones in the nest,
against the owl.

All is the fear and nothing is the love.
- My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself.

But for your husband,
he is noble, wise, judicious

and best knows the fits
of the season.

I take my leave of you. Shall not
be long but I'll be here again.

Things at their worst will cease

or else climb upward
to what they were before.

My pretty cousin,
blessing upon you.

Fathered he is,
and yet he's fatherless.

I take my leave at once.

- How wilt thou do for a father?
- Nay, how will you do for a husband?

- Why, I can buy me 20 at any market.

- Was my father a traitor?
- Ay, that he was.

- What is a traitor?
- Why, one that swears and lies.

- Are they all traitors that do so?

- Everyone that does so is a traitor
and must be hanged.

- Who must hang them?
- Why the honest men.

- Then the liars and swearers are fools,

for there are enough of them to
beat the honest men and hang them up!

- God help thee, poor monkey.

- If he were dead, you would weep for him.

Where's your husband?

- I hope in no place so unsanctified,
where such as thou may'st find him.

- He's a traitor.

BOY: Thou lie'st, thou shag-haired villain!
- What, you egg?

Young fry of treachery!

He has killed me, Mother.

Besides her walking,

and other actual performances,

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

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

You may to a doctor.
'Tis most meet you should.

Neither to you, nor anyone, having
no witness to confirm my speech.

DOCTOR: Her eyes are open.
MAID: Ay, but their sense is shut.

- What is it she does now?
- It is an accustomed action.

To seem thus washing her hands.

Yet here's a spot.

Out, damned spot.

Out, I say!



Why then 'tis time to do it.

Hell is murky.

Fie, my lord, fie!
A soldier and afeard?

What need we fear who knows it, when
none can call our power to account?

Yet who'd have thought the old man
to have so much blood in him?

Well, well, well...

LADY: MACBETH: The Thane of Fife had a wife.

Where is she now?

What, will these hands
ne'er be clean?

No more of that, my lord. No more of 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.

Here's the smell of blood still.

All the perfumes of Arabia will not
sweeten this little hand.

What a sigh is there.
The heart is sorely charged.

Wash your hands,
put on your nightgown.

Look not so pale.

I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried.
He cannot come out of his grave.

Even so?

To bed, to bed.

Come...come, come!

Come, give me your hand.

What's done cannot be undone.

To bed, to bed.

More needs she the divine
than the physician.

God! God forgive us all.

Look after her.

Remove from her the means
of all annoyance and still keep eyes upon her.

- So, good night.
- Good night, good doctor.

MACBETH: How does your patient, doctor?

Not so sick, my Lord.

As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
that keep her from her sleep.

MACBETH: Cure her of that.

canst thou not minister
to a mind diseased?

Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow?

Raze out the written troubles
of the brain?

And with some sweet,
oblivious antidote

cleanse the charged bosom of that perilous
stuff which weighs upon the heart?

Therein the patient
must minister to himself.

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

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!

MALCOLM: Our country sinks beneath the yoke.

It weeps, it bleeds.

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

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.

Who comes here?

MACDUFF: A countryman
who seems a stranger to us.

My ever gentle cousin.

Welcome hither.

- Stands Scotland where it did?
- Alas, poor country.

Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
be called our mother, but our grave.

- What's the newest grief?
- Each minute teems a new one.

MACDUFF: How does my wife?
ROSS: Why, well.

- And all my children?
- Well too.

- The tyrant has not battered at their feet?
- No. They were well at peace when I did leave them.

Be not a niggard of your speech.
How goes it?

Your eye in Scotland will create soldiers,
make our women fight to doff their dire distresses.

We are coming thither.

MALCOLM: Gracious England hath lent us
good Seyward and 10,000 men.

An older and a better soldier none
that Christendom gives out.

ROSS: Would I could answer
this comfort with the like.

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

where hearing should not catch them.

- What concern they?
- The main part pertains to you alone.

If it be mine, keep it not from me.
Quickly, let me have it.

Your castle is surprised,
your wife and babes savagely slaughtered.

Merciful heaven.

MALCOLM: What, man!

Ne'er put your hat upon your brows.

Give sorrow words.

My children too?

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

And I must be from thence.

- My wife killed too?
- I have said.

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?


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 the heaven look on
and would not take their part?

Sinful Macduff,
they were all struck for thee.

Not for their own demerits, but for
mine, fell slaughter on their souls.

Heaven rest them now.

MALCOLM: Be this the whetstone of your sword.
Let grief convert to anger.

Blunt not the heart, enrage it!

Gentle heavens,
cut short all intermission.

Front to front bring thou
this fiend of Scotland and myself.

Our power is ready.
Macbeth is ripe for shaking.

Within my sword's length set him.

If he escape, heaven forgive him too.

LENNOX: What does the tyrant?
- Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies.

Some say he's mad.

Others, that lesser hate him,
do call it valiant fury.

Those he commands move only
in command. Nothing in love.

LENNOX: Now does he feel his title
hang loose about him,

like a giant's robe
upon a dwarfish thief.

When all that is within him
does condemn itself for being there.

The English power is near,

led on by Malcolm, his uncle
Seyward and the good Macduff.

Near Birnam wood, shall we well meet them,

that way are they coming.

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

MACBETH: Where got'st thou that goose look?

There is 10,000

- Geese, villain?
- Soldiers, sir.

Thou lily-livered boy.
What soldiers, patch?

Death of thy soul! Those linen
cheeks of thine are counsellors to fear.

What soldiers, whey-face?

The English force, so please you.


Take thy face hence.

I am sick at heart, when I behold...
Seyton, I say!

MACBETH: I have lived long enough.

My way of life is fallen
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.


breath which the poor heart
would fain deny and dare not.

MACBETH: Seyton!
- What's your gracious pleasure?

- What news more?
- All is confirmed, my Lord, which was reported.

I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.

Give me my armour.

- 'Tis not needed yet.
- I'll put it on.

MACBETH: Send out more horses,
scour the country round.

MACBETH: Hang those that talk of fear.

Come, put mine armour on,
give me my sword.

Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
Come, sir, despatch.

If thou could'st, doctor,
cast the water of my land

find her disease and purge it
to a sound and pristine health.

I would applaud thee to the very echo
that should applaud again.

Pull it off, I say.

What rhubarb, senna,
or what purgative drug

would scour these English hence?
Hear'st thou of them?

Ay, my good lord. Your royal
preparation makes us hear something.

MACBETH: I will not be afraid
of death or bane

till Birnam Forest come
to Dunsinane.

Were I from Dunsinane
away and clear

profit again should
hardly draw me here.

SEYWARD: What wood is this before us?
ANGUS: The wood of Birnam.

LADY M: "They met me in the day of success.

And I have learned by
the perfect'st report

they have more in them
than mortal knowledge.

While 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 shall be! '

This have I thought good to
deliver thee, my dearest partner in greatness

that thou might'st not be

ignorant of what greatness
is promised thee.

Lay it to thy heart, and farewell."

MACBETH: Hang out our banners
on the outward walls.

The cry is still, "They come!"?

Our castle's strength
will laugh a siege to scorn.

Here let them lie till famine
and the ague eat them up.

Were they not stuffed with
those that should be ours

we might have met them dareful,

beard to beard, and beat
them backward home.

What is that noise?

I've almost forgot the taste of fear.

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 it.

I have supped full with horrors.

MACBETH: Wherefore was that cry?

The Queen, my lord, is dead.

She should have died hereafter.

There would have been
a time for such a word.

MACBETH: 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.

MACBETH: 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.

MESSENGER: Gracious, my Lord!

MACBETH: Thy story, quickly!

MESSENGER: 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,
I looked toward Birnam.

And anon, methought,
the wood began to move.

Liar and slave!

Within a mile may you see it coming.

A moving grove!

If thou speak'st false, upon the next
tree shalt thou hang alive

till famine cling thee.

MACBETH: Fear not till Birnam Wood
do come to Dunsinane.

And now a wood comes
towards Dunsinane.

SOLDIER: Every soldier hath hewed down a bough
and bears it before him.

SOLDIER: Thereby do they shadow the number
of their host

and make discovery err
in report of them.

MACBETH: I 'gin to be aweary of the sun.

And wish the estate of the world
were now undone.

Ring the alarum bell!

Blow, wind! Come, wrack! At least
we'll die with harness on our back.

Make all our trumpets speak.

Worthy Macduff, you, with young
Seyward, lead our first assault.

MACDUFF: Tyrant, show thy face!

Let me find him, Fortune.
And more I beg not.

If thou be slain and
with no sword of mine

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

SEYWARD: What is thy name?

- Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

SEYWARD: No, though thou call'st thyself
a hotter name than any in hell!

My name's Macbeth!

SEYWARD: The devil himself could not pronounce
a title more hateful to mine ear.

- No, nor more fearful.
- Thou lie'st, abhorred tyrant!

SEYWARD: With my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

Thou were'st born of woman.

MACBETH: They have tied me to the stake.

I cannot fly. But bearlike
I must fight the course!

Why should I play the Roman fool
and die on mine own sword

while I see lives
that gashes do better on them?

MACBETH: What's he that was not born of woman?

Such a one am I to fear, or none.

MACDUFF: Turn, hell-hound! Turn!

Of all men else, I have avoided thee.

MACDUFF: I have no words.

MACDUFF: My voice is in my sword.

MACDUFF: Thou bloodier villain
than terms can give thee out!

My soul

is too much charged
with blood of thine already.

Let fall thy blade
on vulnerable crests.

I bear a charmed life

which must not yield
to one of woman born!

MACDUFF: Despair thy charm and let the angel
whom thou still hast served tell thee,

Macduff was from his mother's womb
untimely ripped!

MACBETH: Accursed be that tongue
that tells me so,

for it hath cowed
my better part of man.

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.

MACBETH: 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!"

So great a day as this
is cheaply bought.

Hail, King, for so thou art.

Behold where lies
the usurper's cursed head.

The time is free.

ALL: Hail!

Hail, King of Scotland!

ALL: Hail, King of Scotland!