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?
Upon the heath.
There to meet with Macbeth.
- What bloody man is that? - Hail, friend!
Say to the king thy knowledge of the broil as thou left it.
The merciless Macdonwald led his rebellion from the Western Isles.
And fortune on his damned quarrel smiled.
- But, brave Macbeth... - He deserves that name.
- Carved out a passage till he faced the slave.
And ne'er shook hands nor bade farewell...
...till he unseamed him from the nave to the chops.
Valiant cousin!
Upon this chance did the Norwegian king...
...with new supplies of men, begin a fresh assault.
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.
Go get him surgeons.
- God save the king. - What news, worthy thane?
Norway, in terrible numbers...
...assisted by this traitor, the Thane of Cawdor...
...began a dismal conflict till Bellona's bridegroom, Macbeth...
...confronts the king arm against arm, curbing his lavish spirit.
And to conclude, the victory fell on us.
Great happiness! No more that thane shall deceive our bosom interest.
Go pronounce his present death.
And with his former title, greet Macbeth.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
What are these?
So withered and wild in their attire...
...that look not like inhabitants of the Earth.
Speak, if you can. What are you?
All hail, Macbeth. Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis.
All hail, Macbeth. Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor.
All hail, Macbeth, that shall be king hereafter.
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed which outwardly you show?
My partner you greet with 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 to me...
...who neither beg nor fear your favours nor your hate.
Hail! Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Not so happy, yet much happier.
Thou shalt beget kings, though thou be none.
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo.
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 intelligence.
Or why upon this heath you stop our way with such prophetic greeting?
Whither are they vanished?
Into the air.
And what seemed corporal melted, as breath into the wind.
Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten of the insane root that takes reason prisoner?
Your children shall be kings.
You shall be king. And Thane of Cawdor. Went it not so?
To the selfsame tune and words.
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 the news of thy success.
Thick as hail came post with post, and everyone did bear thy praises.
We are sent to give thee from our royal master thanks, not pay thee.
And for an earnest of a greater honour, he bade me call thee...
...Thane of Cawdor.
What?
Can the devil speak true?
He lives. Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?
Who was the thane lives yet, but that life he deserves to lose.
Treasons capital, confessed and proved, 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?
Those that gave Cawdor to me, promised no less to them.
That, trusted home, might yet enkindle you unto the crown...
...besides the Thane of Cawdor.
Often, to win us to our harm, instruments of darkness tell truths.
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us in deepest consequence.
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.
If chance will have me king, chance may crown me without my stir.
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 threw away the dearest thing he owed as if it were a careless trifle.
There's no art to find a mind's construction in the face.
On him I built an absolute trust.
"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, thou wouldst holily.
Wouldst not play false, yet wouldst wrongly win.
Hie thee hither, that I may pour my spirits in thine ear.
Hail, Macbeth! Hail, Thane of Cawdor!
Worthiest cousin! The sin of my ingratitude 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 pays itself.
Your part is to receive our duties.
Welcome. I have begun to plant thee and will labour to make thee grow.
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!
Go hence to Inverness and bind us further to you.
I'll go 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.
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 transported me beyond this present...
...and I feel 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 is as a book where men may read strange matters.
He that's coming must be provided for.
You shall put this night's 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.
The raven croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements.
Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts. Unsex me here.
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 purpose.
This castle hath a pleasant seat.
The air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle senses.
Come, thick night, pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell...
... that my keen knife see not the wound it makes...
... nor heaven peep through the dark to cry, "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.
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.
Health to this household!
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 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.
- 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 act as in desire?
Prithee, peace.
Wouldst thou live a coward, 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 it then, that made you break this enterprise to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man.
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 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?
Bring forth men-children only...
... for thy undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males.
How goes the night?
The moon is down. I have not heard the clock.
- 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 the thoughts that nature gives way to in repose.
Who's there?
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'd 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.
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.
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 marshal'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, alarmed 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.
I'm afraid they have awaked, and 'tis not done.
The attempt and not the deed confounds us.
Hark!
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 and the crickets.
- Did not you speak? 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.
Nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast.
Still it cried to all the house, "Glamis hath murdered sleep...
...and 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 of 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 incarnadine...
...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.
How easy is it, then!
Retire we to our chamber.
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion show us to be watchers.
Be not lost so poorly in your thoughts.
To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.
Wake Duncan with thy knocking!
I would thou couldst.
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 ere you went to bed, that you lie so late?
We were carousing till the second cock...
...and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
- What three things? - 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.
- Drink gave thee the lie last night. - That it did.
- Is thy master stirring? - Good morrow.
- Is the king stirring, worthy thane? - Not yet.
He did command me to call timely. 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. Our chimneys were blown down.
And, as they say, lamentings heard in the air, strange screams of death.
Some say the earth was feverous.
- 'Twas a rough night. - Oh, horror!
Horror, horror! Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
Murder hath broke open the Lord's anointed temple.
- What is it you say? - Mean you His Majesty?
Do not bid me speak.
See, and then speak yourselves.
Awake!
Awake! 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!
What's the business, that a hideous trumpet calls...
...to parley the sleepers of the house? Speak!
Gentle lady, 'tis not for you to hear what I speak.
Banquo, our royal master's murdered.
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.
There is 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.
They 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 skin laced with his 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.
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.
- How goes the world, Macduff? - Why? See you not?
Is it known who did this more than bloody deed?
- Those that Macbeth hath slain. - What good could they expect?
They were suborned. Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's sons, are 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.
Well, I will thither.
May you see things well done there. Adieu.
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?
Hail, Macbeth! Hail, King of Scotland!
Here's our chief guest.
If he had been forgotten, it'd have been a gap in our great feast.
Tonight we hold a solemn supper, and I'll request your presence.
Let Your Highness command upon me...
...to the which my duties are with a most indissoluble tie forever knit.
- Ride you this afternoon? - Ay, my lord.
Is it far you ride?
As far 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 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 lord.
I wish your horses swift and sure of foot. Farewell.
- Attend those men our leisure? - They do.
Bring them before us.
To be thus is nothing, but to be safely thus.
Our fears in Banquo stick deep. 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 do I fear.
And under him my genius is rebuked.
We'll keep ourself till suppertime alone. Till then, God be with you.
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? - It was, Your Highness.
Well then now, have you considered of my speeches?
Know that it was he in times past which held you under fortune...
...which you thought had been our innocent self.
You made this known to us.
Is patience so predominant in your nature that you can let this go?
Are you so gospelled to pray for this 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 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.
- Ay, my lord. - So is he mine!
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 perform what you command. - 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.
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.
Full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife.
Thou knowst that Banquo and his Fleance live.
But in them nature's copy is not eterne.
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.
- Who did bid thee join with us? - Macbeth.
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 it 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.
Let it come down!
Treachery!
Fly, good Fleance, fly!
Fly!
There's blood upon thy face.
- 'Tis Banquo's then. - Is he despatched?