Original
Modern English
Where hast thou been, sister?
Where have you been, sister?
Killing swine.
Killing pigs.
Sister, where thou?
Sister, where were you?
A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap, 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, And, like a rat without a tail, I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do.
A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap, And ate and ate and ate:-- ’Give me some,’ I said: ’Away with you, witch!’ the big-bellied woman shouted. Her husband’s gone to Aleppo, captain of the Tiger: But in a sieve I’ll sail there, And, like a rat without a tail, I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do.
I’ll give thee a wind.
I’ll give you a wind.
Thou’rt kind.
You’re kind.
And I another.
And I’ll give you another.
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 se’nnights nine times nine Shall he dwindle, peak and pine: Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost. Look what I have.
I’ve got all the other winds, And all the directions they blow, Every point on the sailor’s map. I will drain him dry as straw: Sleep will not come to him, either day or night; He’ll live like a man cursed: Nine times nine nights he’ll weaken, grow thin, and suffer: Though his ship can’t be sunk, It will be tossed by storms. Look at what I have.
Show me, show me.
Show me, show me.
Here I have a pilot’s thumb, Wreck’d as homeward he did come.
Here, I have a sailor’s thumb, Wrecked as he was coming home.
A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come.
A drum, a drum! Macbeth is coming.
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.
The weird sisters, hand in hand, Messengers of the sea and land, We go around, around: Three times for yours, three times for mine, And three more, to make it nine. Quiet! the spell is complete.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
I’ve never seen such a day—so bad and so good.
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, By each at once her chappy finger laying Upon her skinny lips: you should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
How far is it to Forres? What are these People, so withered and wild in their clothes, Who look nothing like they belong to the earth, But are standing here on it? Are you alive? Or are you something else That a man can question? You seem to understand me, By each of you pressing your bony fingers To your thin lips: you should be women, And yet your beards make me wonder if you really are.
Speak, if you can: what are you?
Speak, if you can: what are you?
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Thane of Glamis!
All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Thane of Cawdor!
All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!
All hail, Macbeth! You will be king hereafter!
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 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.
Good sir, why do you jump back and seem afraid Of things that sound so good? In the name of truth, Are you imagining things, or are you really What you appear to be? My noble partner, You greet with honor and a great prediction Of noble wealth and royal hopes, And he seems thrilled by it: but you don’t speak to me. If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which will grow and which won’t, Then speak to me, because I neither beg nor fear Your favor or your hatred.
Hail!
Hail!
Hail!
Hail!
Hail!
Hail!
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Lesser than Macbeth, but greater.
Not so happy, yet much happier.
Not as happy, but much happier.
Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
You will have sons who are kings, even though you won’t be one: So, all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
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? 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.
Wait, you incomplete speakers, tell me more: By Sinel’s death I know I’m thane of Glamis; But what about Cawdor? The thane of Cawdor is still alive, A successful man; and being king Seems as unlikely as being Cawdor. Tell me where You got this strange knowledge, or why You’re blocking our path on this desolate heath With such prophetic words? Speak, I demand you.
The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanish’d?
The earth has bubbles, just like water does, And these are some of them. Where did they go?
Into the air; and what seem’d corporal melted As breath into the wind. Would they had stay’d!
Into the air; and what seemed solid melted Like breath into the wind. I wish they had stayed!
Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?
Are things like this real, or are we just imagining it? Have we eaten some crazy plant That makes our minds go wild?
Your children shall be kings.
Your children will be kings.
You shall be king.
You will be king.
And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
And thane of Cawdor too: wasn’t it just like that?
To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here?
Same exact words. Who’s coming?
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: 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, 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.
The king has happily heard the news of your success, Macbeth, And when he reads about your personal bravery in the battle with the rebels, He wonders and praises whether your achievements or his should be praised more. Then, quieted by that, he looks over the rest of the day’s events, And finds you in the Norwegian ranks, not afraid of the danger you created, With strange signs of death. Posts came in thick as hail, And each one carried your praises for defending the kingdom, And threw them down before him.
We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee.
We are here To thank you from our royal master; We’ve come only to announce you to him, Not to reward you.
And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! For it is thine.
And as a sign of a greater honor, He asked me, on his behalf, to call you thane of Cawdor: In this new title, greetings, most worthy thane! For it is yours.
What, can the devil speak true?
What, can the devil really speak the truth?
The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me In borrow’d robes?
The thane of Cawdor is still alive: why are you putting me In borrowed clothes?
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 He labour’d in his country’s wreck, I know not; But treasons capital, confess’d and proved, Have overthrown him.
The man who was the thane is still alive; But he carries the heavy weight of judgment, suffering for the life That he deserves to lose. Whether he joined forces With the Norwegians, or helped the rebels secretly With hidden support and advantage, or if he worked with both To ruin his country, I don’t know; But his confessed and proven treasons Have led to his downfall.
[Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor! The greatest is behind.
[Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor! The best part is yet to come.
Thanks for your pains.
Thanks for your efforts.
Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me Promised no less to them?
Don’t you hope your children will be kings, Since those who made me thane of Cawdor Promised 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’s In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you.
That trust in the future Might ignite your ambition for the crown, Along with the title of thane of Cawdor. But it’s strange: And often, to bring us to our own harm, The forces of darkness tell us truths, Entice us with small honest things, only to betray us In the most important ways. Cousins, a word, please.
[Aside] Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.
[Aside] Two truths have been told, As happy introductions to the unfolding drama Of the royal story.--Thank you, gentlemen.
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 smother’d in surmise, and nothing is But what is not.
It can’t be bad, but it can’t be good either: if it’s bad, Why did it give me a sign of success, Beginning with a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: If it’s good, why am I drawn to that thought, Whose terrifying image makes my hair stand on end And makes my heart pound so hard it feels unnatural? Present fears Are less scary than horrible thoughts: My mind, which hasn’t yet planned the murder, Shakes my whole being so much that my usual actions Are smothered in doubt, and nothing is But what is impossible.
Look, how our partner’s rapt.
Look, how our partner is lost in thought.
[Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, Without my stir.
[Aside] If fate wants me to be king, then fate can crown me, Without me doing anything.
New horrors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use.
New terrors are taking hold of him, Like our strange clothes, which don’t fit properly But only with time and use.
[Aside] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
[Aside] Whatever happens, Time and life will pass, even through the toughest of days.
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
Worthy Macbeth, we’ll wait for you.
Give me your favour: 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 chanced, and, at more time, The interim having weigh’d it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other.
Please, give me a moment: my mind was distracted By things I forgot. Kind gentlemen, your efforts Are recorded in my memory, where I’ll always remember them. Let’s go to the king. We’ll think about what happened, and when we have more time, After thinking it through, we can speak openly to each other.
Very gladly.
Very gladly.
Till then, enough. Come, friends.
Until then, that’s enough. Come, friends.