« PředchozíPokračovat »
SCENE III.-A Heath. Thunder
Enter the three Witches. 1st Witch. Where hast thou been, sister ? 2nd Witch. Killing swine. 3rd Witch. Sister, where thou ?
1st Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And mounch'd and mounch'd and mounch'd ;-Give me, quoth I :
Aroint thee, witch ! the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o’the Tiger :
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.
2nd Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
1st Witch. Thou art kind.
3rd Witch. And I another.
1st Witch. I myself have all the other :
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I'the shipman's card.
I will drain him dry as hay :
Sleep shall, neither night nor day,
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid :
Weary sev’n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine :
Though this bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss’d.
Look what I have.
2nd Witch. Show me, show me.
1st Witch. Here I have a pilot's thum, Wreck'd as homeward he did come.
[Drum within 3rd Witch. A drum, a drum : Macbeth doth come.
All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about;
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine :
Peace !—the charm's wound up.
Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.
Macb. Su foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is't called to Fores? -What are these,
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire ;
That look not like the inhabitants o’the earth,
And yet are on't ? Live you ? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny, lips :-You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.
Macb. Speak, if you can ;-What are you?
1st Witch. All hail, Macbeth ! hail to thee, thane of Glamis !
2nd Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
3rd Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
Ban. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair ?-I' the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show ? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having, and of royal hope,
That he seems wrapt withal; to me you speak not:
If you can look into the seeds of time,
say, which grain will grow, and which will not;
Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear,
Your favors, nor your hate.
1st Witch. Hail !-
2nd Witch. Hail !
3rd Witch. Hail !
1st Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
2nd Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier.
3rd Witch. Thy children shall be kings, though thou be none : So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo !
1st Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail !
Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more :
By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor ? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and; to be king,
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence ? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way,
With such prophetic greeting? --Speak, I charge you.
[Witches vanisha Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them: Whither are they vanish'd ?
Macb. Into the air : and what seem'd corporal, melted
As breath into the wind.-?Would they had staid !
Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about ?
Or have we eaten of the insane root,
That takes the reason prisoner ?
Macb. Your children shall be kings.
You shall be king.
Macb. And thane of Cawdor, too; went it not so ?
Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. Who's here?
Enter Rosse and ANGUS.
Rosse. The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
The news of thy success : and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his : Silenc'd with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afеard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail,
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.
We are sent,
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks ;
To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee.
Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honor,
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor
In which addition, hail, most worthy thane !
For it is thine.
Ban. What can the devil speak true ?
Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress mes
In borrowed robes ?
Who was the thane, lives yet;
But under heavy judgment bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was
Combin’d with Norway; or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage; or that with both
He labor'd in his country's wreck, I know not
But treasons capital, confess’d, and provid,
Have overthrown him.
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 te me
Promis'd no less to them ?
That, trusted home
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange
And oftentimes to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths ;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequences.-
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.-
This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot a 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 fartastical,
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smother'd in surmise ; and nothing is,
But what is not.
Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me
Without my stir.
New honors come upon him
Like our strange garments; cleave noi to their mould,
But with the aid of use.
Come what come may ;
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
Macb. Give me your favor :—my dull brain was wrought
With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are register'd where every day I turn
The leaf to read them.-Let us toward the king. -
Think upon what hath chanc'd ; and, at more time,
The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
Macb. Till then, enough.—Come, friends.
goes to Fores to pay his duty to King Duncan, who confirms him in his title of Thane of Cawdor, and as a farther proof of the royal favor, the King announces his intention of visiting Macbeth at his Castle in Inverness. Macbeth leaves the King to be tne “harbinger” of the monarch's proposed visit.
The Scene changes to the Castle of Macbeth, and Lady Macbeth enters, reading a Letter she has just received from her husband.
Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's Castle.
Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter. Lady M. They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves—air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me, Thane of Cawdor; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with, Hail, king that shalt be!
This have I thonight good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of my
greatness; that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being
ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
What thou art promisd :—Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,
To catch the nearest way. Thou would'st be great ;
Art not without ambition ; but without
The illness should attend it. What thou would'st highly,
That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false,
And yet would’st wrongly win : thou’dst have, great Glamis,
That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have it ;
And that which rather thou dost fear to do,
Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
And chastise with the valor of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round,
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
To have thee crown'd withal. What is your tidings ?
Enter an Attendant. Atten. The king comes here to-night. Lady M.
Thou'rt mad to say it:
Is not thy master with him ? who, wer't so,
Would have inform’d for preparation.
Atten. So please you, it is true; our thane is coming :
One of my fellows had the speed of him :
Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Than would take up his
message. Lady M.
Give him tending He brings good news. The raven himself-is hoarse,
[Exit Attendant That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, 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, you murd’ring 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!