Macbeth Witches, Act 1, Scene 3 with Explanatory Notes

Macbeth

ACT I SCENE III	A heath near Forres.
	Thunder. Enter the three Witches
First Witch	Where hast thou been, sister?
Second Witch	Killing swine.
Third Witch	Sister, where thou?
First Witch	A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,	5
	And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'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,	10
	And, like a rat without a tail,
	I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.
Second Witch	I'll give thee a wind.
First Witch	Thou'rt kind.
Third Witch	And I another.	15
First 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:	20
	Sleep shall neither night nor day
	Hang upon his pent-house lid;
	He shall live a man forbid:
	Weary se'n nights nine times nine
	Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:	25
	Though his bark cannot be lost,
	Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
	Look what I have.
Second Witch	Show me, show me.
First Witch	Here I have a pilot's thumb,	30
	Wreck'd as homeward he did come.
	Drum within
Third Witch	A drum, a drum!
	Macbeth doth come.
ALL	The weird sisters, hand in hand,
	Posters of the sea and land,	35
	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
MACBETH	So foul and fair a day I have not seen.	40
BANQUO	How far is't call'd to Forres? 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,	45
	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.
MACBETH	Speak, if you can: what are you?	50
First Witch	All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
Second Witch	All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
Third Witch	All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!
BANQUO	Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
	Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,	55
	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 rapt withal: to me you speak not.	60
	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.
First Witch	Hail!	65
Second Witch	Hail!
Third Witch	Hail!
First Witch	Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Second Witch	Not so happy, yet much happier.
Third Witch	Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:	70
	So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
First Witch	Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
MACBETH	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,	75
	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	80
	With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.
	Witches vanish
BANQUO	The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
	And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?
MACBETH	Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
	As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!	85
BANQUO	Were such things here as we do speak about?
	Or have we eaten on the insane root
	That takes the reason prisoner?
MACBETH	Your children shall be kings.
BANQUO	You shall be king.	90
MACBETH	And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
BANQUO	To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?
	Enter ROSS and ANGUS
ROSS	The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
	The news of thy success; and when he reads
	Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,	95
	His wonders and his praises do contend
	Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
	In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
	He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
	Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,	100
	Strange images of death. As thick as tale
	Came post with post; and every one did bear
	Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
	And pour'd them down before him.
ANGUS	We are sent	105
	To give thee from our royal master thanks;
	Only to herald thee into his sight,
	Not pay thee.
ROSS	And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
	He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:	110
	In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
	For it is thine.
BANQUO	What, can the devil speak true?
MACBETH	The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
	In borrow'd robes?	115
ANGUS	Who was the thane lives yet;
	But under heavy judgment bears that life
	Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
	With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
	With hidden help and vantage, or that with both	120
	He labour'd in his country's wrack, I know not;
	But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
	Have overthrown him.
MACBETH	Aside
	Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor:
	The greatest is behind.
	To ROSS and ANGUS
	Thanks for your pains.	125
	To 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?
BANQUO	That trusted home
	Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,	130
	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's
	In deepest consequence.	135
	Cousins, a word, I pray you.
MACBETH	Aside
	Two truths are told,
	As happy prologues to the swelling act
	Of the imperial theme. -- I thank you, gentlemen.
	Aside
	This supernatural soliciting
	Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
	Why hath it given me earnest of success,	140
	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	145
	Are less than horrible imaginings:
	My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
	Shakes so my single state of man that function
	Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
	But what is not.	150
BANQUO	Look, how our partner's rapt.
MACBETH	Aside
	If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
	Without my stir.
BANQUO	New honors come upon him,
	Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
	But with the aid of use.	155
MACBETH	Aside
	Come what come may,
	Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
BANQUO	Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
MACBETH	Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought
	With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
	Are register'd where every day I turn	160
	The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
	Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
	The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
	Our free hearts each to other.
BANQUO	Very gladly.	165
MACBETH	Till then, enough. Come, friends.
	Exeunt