Where hast thou been, sister?
Where have you been, sister?
Where've you been?
where u been
Killing swine.
Killing pigs.
Killing pigs.
killing pigs
Sister, where thou?
Sister, where have you been?
Where were you?
where r u
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’ th’ _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 crunched, and crunched, and crunched them. 'Give me some,' I said. 'Get away, witch!' cries that fat, dirty woman. Her husband has sailed to Aleppo as captain of the Tiger: But in a sieve I'll sail there too, And, like a rat without a tail, I'll torment him, I'll torment him, and I'll torment him.
This sailor's wife had chestnuts, and she just kept eating and eating them. I asked for some. 'Get away from me, witch!' she screamed, that fat pig. Her husband's off to Aleppo running the ship Tiger: But I'll sail after him in a sieve, And like a rat missing its tail, I'll get him, I'll get him, and I'll get him.
sailor's wife wouldn't share chestnuts i asked she said get away her husband's sailing away i'll follow ruin him
I’ll give thee a wind.
I'll provide you with a wind.
I'll give you a strong wind to help with your journey.
i'll give u wind.
Th’art kind.
You're kind.
Thanks.
ty
And I another.
And I'll give another.
I'll add one too.
ill give one 2
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 his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
Look what I have.
I have control of all the other winds, and I know all the ports they blow to, all the directions on the sailor's map. I will drain him as dry as hay: Sleep will never come to him day or night; He will live as a cursed man. Weary for weeks and weeks, He will shrink, waste away, and pine: Though his ship cannot be sunk, It will be tossed in storms. Look at what I have.
I've got control of all the other winds, and I can blow to every port on the map. I'm going to drain him completely dry: He'll never sleep, day or night; He'll be a cursed man. Weary for weeks and weeks, He'll waste away to nothing: His ship won't sink, but it'll be battered by storms. Look what I've got.
i control the winds blown all over will drain him dry no sleep cursed waste away ship gets battered
Show me, show me.
Display them to me, reveal your treasures.
Let me see them, let me see them.
let me see ur stuff.
Here I have a pilot’s thumb,
Wrack’d as homeward he did come.
Here I have a pilot's thumb, wrecked as he came home.
Look—I have a pilot's thumb. He wrecked coming home.
heres pilots thumb from ship wreck
A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come.
A drum, a drum! Macbeth comes.
Drums! There—that's Macbeth!
drums macbeth 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 Fate Sisters, hand in hand, Riders of the sea and land, Thus we go about, about: Three times to you, and three times to me, And three times more, making nine. Peace!—the spell is complete.
We strange sisters, holding hands, Wanderers of the sea and land, We circle round and round: Three times for him, three times for me, Three more times to make it nine. Peace!—our magic is done.
three sisters hand in hand circle round spell complete
Speaks publicly in clipped, controlled lines that give almost nothing away. Speaks in aside in long, twisting, self-interrupting sentences that loop back on themselves — his private language is nothing like his public one. The gap between them is the play. Watch for how his verse becomes more tortured when he's alone or barely alone: 'This supernatural soliciting / Cannot be ill, cannot be good...' That spiral of logic-that-goes-nowhere is Macbeth's distinctive inner voice.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
I've never seen a day so foul and yet so fair.
I've never seen a day that's both so ugly and so beautiful at the same time.
day so foul fair never seen it
His skepticism about the Witches — 'oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths' — is the play's most accurate diagnosis, delivered by the man who won't act on it. He's more intellectually sophisticated than Macbeth about what's happening, and less emotionally captured. He notices Macbeth going pale; he won't intervene. He's not a hero — but he's right.
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’ th’ 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.
How far is it to Forres?—What are these creatures, So withered and so wild in their clothes, That look not like the inhabitants of the earth, And yet are on it?—Are you alive? or are you something That a man can question? You seem to understand me, By putting your rough finger to your thin lips. You should be women, And yet your beards prevent me from believing That you are.
How far to Forres?—Who are these things, So shriveled up and dressed so strangely, They don't look like they belong on earth, But there they are?—Are you alive? or are you something A person can even talk to? You understand me, I can see it by how you're putting your rough fingers to your thin lips. You look like women, But your beards tell me you're not.
how far to forres who are these creatures withered and wild are you alive you have beards you're not women
Speak, if you can;—what are you?
If you are able to communicate, reveal your nature to me.
Go ahead and speak if you're able. Tell me—what are you?
speak. what r u?
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Thane of Glamis!
All hail, Macbeth! You're the Thane of Glamis!
all hail macbeth thane of glamis
Macbeth and Banquo receive the Witches' prophecies in the same scene, in the same place, under identical conditions. One of them is destroyed by what he hears. The other is not. The difference is not intelligence — Banquo is if anything the more sophisticated thinker, immediately recognizing the theological danger. The difference is ambition.
Banquo's prophecy is about his descendants. To fulfill it, he has to do nothing except survive and have children. It requires no action. There's nothing to plan, nothing to execute, nothing to make happen. The future will arrive or it won't.
Macbeth's prophecy is about himself, in his own lifetime. He's already Glamis. He'll shortly be Cawdor. King is the next and final step — and there is a living king in the way. The prophecy doesn't just predict; it implies a vacancy that needs creating. Macbeth doesn't manufacture this implication. The political reality manufactures it, and the prophecy activates his awareness of it.
Shakespeare is precise about this: Macbeth doesn't decide to kill Duncan in this scene. He discovers that the thought of killing Duncan is already there, waiting. His terrified aside — 'why do I yield to that suggestion whose horrid image doth unfix my hair' — is the reaction of a man who has looked into his own mind and found something he didn't put there.
Or did he? That's the play's question. Was the ambition always there, and the Witches just named it? Or did their naming call it into being? Shakespeare doesn't answer this — and that is where the play's moral weight lives.
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Thane of Cawdor!
All hail, Macbeth! You're the Thane of Cawdor!
all hail thane of cawdor
All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter!
All hail, Macbeth, who shall be King hereafter!
All hail, Macbeth! You'll be King!
all hail macbeth king later
Good sir, why do you start and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair?—I’ th’ 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 and seem afraid Of things that sound so good?—By my honor, Are you illusions, or truly real As you appear? My noble partner You greet with praise and great promises Of noble deeds and royal possibility, That he seems overcome. To me you say nothing. If you can see into the future, And say which fate will happen and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither asks for nor fears Your favors or your hatred.
Why are you scared of things that sound good?—I swear, Are you real or just illusions? My noble friend, you shower him with praise and big promises of power and a crown, and he's completely spellbound. But you don't say anything to me. If you can see the future and know which things will happen and which won't, then speak to me—I don't ask for your favors and I don't fear your hatred.
why are you scared of good predictions are you real you praised him but ignored me if you see the future tell me too
Hail!
All greetings!
Welcome!
hey
Hail!
Salutations!
Hail to you!
welcome
Hail!
Hail to you!
Welcome!
hey!
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Smaller than Macbeth, and yet greater.
You'll be less powerful than Macbeth, but in a bigger way.
less powerful but greater
Not so happy, yet much happier.
Not as fortunate, yet far more fortunate.
You won't be as blessed as he is, but you'll actually be better off.
less blessed but happier
Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
You will father kings, though you yourself will not be king. So all greetings to Macbeth and Banquo!
Your children will become kings, even though you won't. Welcome to you both, Macbeth and Banquo!
ur kids will be kings. hail macbeth & banquo.
Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
Banquo and Macbeth, greetings to you both!
Welcome, Banquo and Macbeth!
all hail to both
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. I know from my father Sinel's death that I am Thane of Glamis. But how did I become Thane of Cawdor? The current Thane of Cawdor is alive and successful, and becoming king seems impossible—no more likely than becoming Cawdor. Tell me: where do you get this strange information? Why do you stop us on this barren heath with such prophetic words? Speak, I demand it.
Hold on, you weird creatures, tell me everything. I know I'm the Thane of Glamis since my father died. But how could I be Thane of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor is alive right now and doing well, and being king is completely impossible—I can't believe it any more than I can believe the Cawdor thing. Where are you getting this strange knowledge from? Why are you stopping us out here on this desolate hill with these amazing predictions? Tell me what's going on.
wait, who r u? i'm thane of glamis sure. but cawdor? king? that's impossible. where'd u hear this?
The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them. Whither are they vanish’d?
The earth produces illusions just as water does, and these creatures are nothing but illusions. Where have they gone?
The earth can produce phantom shapes just like water can, and these witches must be nothing but tricks. Where did they disappear to?
earth has illusions like water. where'd 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 to have a body melted away like breath into the wind. I wish they had stayed!
They vanished into the air. What we thought were real bodies just dissolved like breath disappearing in the wind. I wish they'd stayed!
gone into air. like breath in wind. wish they stayed.
Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten on the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?
Did these things really happen to us the way we speak of them? Or did we eat some magical plant that takes away our ability to think clearly?
Did we really just see what we're talking about? Or did we eat something that drives you crazy and messes with your mind?
did that actually happen? or did we eat some crazy drug?
Your children shall be kings.
Your children will become kings.
Your sons will be kings.
ur kids will be kings.
You shall be king.
And you, you will be king.
And you will become king.
u'll be king.
And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
And also Thane of Cawdor, didn't it happen like that?
And I'm also supposed to be Thane of Cawdor—isn't that what they said?
thane of cawdor too right?
To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here?
The exact same message and words. Who's here?
Yes, word for word they said the same things to both of us. Who's approaching?
same message we heard. who's coming?
The Witches in Macbeth are not folktale figures — they are drawn from the specific theology and testimony of contemporary witch trials, including the North Berwick trials (1590-91) that fascinated James VI of Scotland, who became James I of England in 1603. James had personally interrogated suspected witches, written a treatise on demonology (Daemonologie, 1597), and remained deeply interested in the subject.
The details Shakespeare uses are drawn from this world. Familiar spirits (Graymalkin, the cat; Paddock, the toad) appear in English witch trial testimony as the demonic companions assigned to witches. The ability to sail in a sieve, to travel in animal form but imperfectly (rat without a tail), to control winds — all of these were standard accusations in actual prosecutions. The nine times nine and the charm-winding rituals echo the formal procedures of recorded witchcraft.
This context is important because it means Shakespeare's audience understood the Witches not as supernatural atmosphere but as genuine theological danger. Witchcraft was real to them, legally codified (the Witchcraft Act of 1604 had just been passed), and associated with specific practices and powers. When Banquo says 'the instruments of darkness,' he's using theological vocabulary that carried weight.
It also means the question of the Witches' agency — do they cause events or merely predict them — was a live theological debate. Could the devil compel human actions, or only suggest them? Majority Protestant opinion held the latter: the devil could tempt but not force. Macbeth's free will is therefore intact throughout the play, which makes his choices fully his own.
The King hath happily receiv’d, 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’ th’ selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as tale
Came post with post; and everyone did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defence,
And pour’d them down before him.
The King has joyfully received the news of your success, Macbeth. When he reads about your brave actions in fighting the rebels, he doesn't know whether to praise you or himself more. Thinking that settled, as he reviews the other events of that day, he finds you among the brave Norwegian forces, not afraid of the terrible images of death you created. News came continuously, messenger after messenger. Each one carried praise for you throughout the kingdom for its great defense, and they poured all this praise before him.
The King was delighted to hear about your victory, Macbeth. When he reads about how you fought in that battle against the rebels, he can't decide whether to praise you more or be proud of himself. That settled that question, so then he looks at everything else that happened that same day, and he sees you there among the Norwegian soldiers, not scared of all the death you caused. Messengers kept arriving one after another, and each one was telling people throughout the kingdom how great you are for defending the country, and they all told the King about it.
king heard ur news. praises u everywhere. for great defense.
We are sent
To give thee from our royal master thanks;
Only to herald thee into his sight,
Not pay thee.
We've been sent to give you thanks from our royal master. Our only purpose is to bring you before him, not to reward you.
We've been sent to thank you on behalf of the King. We're just here to bring you to him, not to give you rewards.
sent to thank u. for the king. not paying u yet.
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 to come, he commanded me to call you Thane of Cawdor. With this new title, hail, most worthy thane, for it is now yours.
And as a down payment on even greater honors, he told me to give you the title of Thane of Cawdor. So congratulations, most worthy thane—it's officially yours now.
he calls u thane of cawdor. it's urs now.
What, can the devil speak true?
Can the devil really tell the truth?
Wait, can the devil actually tell us true things?
devil told 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 dressing me in borrowed clothes?
But the Thane of Cawdor is still alive! Why are you giving me titles that don't belong to me?
thane of cawdor alive. why u dressing me fake?
Who was the Thane lives yet,
But under heavy judgement bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin’d
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 wrack, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess’d and prov’d,
Have overthrown him.
The man who was Thane still lives, but he carries a life weighted down by serious judgment, a life he deserves to lose. Whether he worked with the Norwegian forces, or secretly supported the rebel with hidden help and advantages, or labored in destroying his country with both, I don't know. But he confessed to capital treason and was proven guilty, and that's what destroyed him.
The guy who was Thane is still alive, but he's living under heavy judgment for what he did—and he deserves to lose his life. I'm not sure if he was working with the Norwegian king, or if he was secretly helping the rebels, or if he was destroying Scotland both ways. But whatever he did, he confessed to serious treason, it was proven, and that's what finished him.
old thane lives but under heavy judgment. treason confessed & proved. he's finished.
[_Aside._] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind. [_To Ross and Angus._] Thanks for your pains.
Glamis and Thane of Cawdor—the greatest thing still lies ahead.
Glamis and Thane of Cawdor—but the best part is still coming.
i got glamis and cawdor but something bigger still waiting 4 me
[_To Banquo._] Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
Promis’d no less to them?
Don't you hope your sons will become kings? The witches who gave me the Thane of Cawdor promised them just as much.
Don't you hope your children will be kings? The witches promised them the same thing they promised me.
ur kids gonna be kings right? the witches promised them same as me
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.
If you believe these completely, they might push you toward the crown in addition to the Thane of Cawdor title. But it's strange. The servants of darkness often tell us truths. They win us over with small honest gifts, only to betray us in the most serious matters. Cousins, may I speak with you?
If you really trust these predictions, they might be encouraging you to go after the crown on top of the Cawdor title. But here's the thing—it is weird. Evil spirits and dark forces often tell us the truth. They gain our trust by giving us small, honest information, but then they betray us when the stakes are highest. Cousins, can I talk to you two?
trust the predictions? might push u to crown. but devil gains trust with truth. then betrays. watch out.
[_Aside._] Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.—I thank you, gentlemen.—
Two truths have been told, as promising prologues to the building of the imperial theme.
Two things they told me turned out true—good opening scenes for the big story about me becoming king.
two things they said came true good warm up for the big story me becoming king
[_Aside._] 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 smother’d in surmise,
And nothing is but what is not.
This supernatural suggestion cannot be evil; cannot be good. If evil, why has it given me confirmation of success, beginning with a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good, why do I yield to that suggestion whose horrible image unfixes my hair and makes my settled heart knock against my ribs, against nature's way? Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. My thought, though murder is only imaginary so far, shakes me so in my single humanity that rational function is smothered in uncertainty, and nothing is real except what does not exist.
This supernatural message can't be evil or good. If it was evil, why did it come true? I'm already Thane of Cawdor, so they spoke truth. If it was good, then why does the idea of murder terrify me and make my hair stand on end? Why does my heart pound? Right now I'm more afraid of my own thoughts than any real danger. My imagination of murder—which hasn't happened—scares me more than anything real could. My mind is so confused and anxious that I can't think straight, and I'm obsessed with things that haven't even happened.
this message from witches not good not bad it came true i'm thane of cawdor but murder idea terrifies me insane thoughts about things that haven't happened
Look, how our partner’s rapt.
Look at how our partner is lost in thought.
See how completely lost in thought our friend is?
partner's lost in thought.
[_Aside._] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me
Without my stir.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me without my action.
If fate wants me to be king, it will make me king without me having to do anything.
if fate wants me king it'll make me king no need 4 me 2 do anything
New honours come upon him,
Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
But with the aid of use.
New honors come to him like new clothes that don't fit right at first, but eventually conform to the wearer through use.
New titles come to someone like new clothes that don't fit quite right until you wear them for a while and they adjust to your body.
new titles like new clothes. need time to fit right.
[_Aside._] Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
Whatever comes, time and the hour run through even the roughest day.
No matter what happens, time keeps moving forward, and even the hardest days eventually pass.
come what may time moves forward even bad days end
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
Worthy Macbeth, we wait for your decision about what to do.
Great Macbeth, we're waiting for you to tell us what to do next.
we're waiting on u.
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 chanc’d; and at more time,
The interim having weigh’d it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
Please forgive me. My dull mind was troubled by forgotten things. Kind gentlemen, I'll remember your kindnesses forever—I'll turn the pages to read your deeds every day. Let's go to the King. Think about what has happened. Later, when we've thought it over carefully, let's speak freely to each other from our honest hearts.
Sorry, I need your forgiveness. My brain was all twisted up with old memories. Kind gentlemen, I'll never forget what you've done—I'll remember it every single day. Let's go see the King. Think about everything that's happened. And later, once we've had time to process it all, let's have an honest conversation about everything.
forgive me. mind twisted up. will remember u. let's think this over. then talk freely.
Very gladly.
Very gladly.
very gladly.
very gladly.
Till then, enough.—Come, friends.
That's all for now. Come, my friends.
That's enough for now. Come on, let's go, friends.
enough for now. let's go.
The Reckoning
This is the scene where the play's engine ignites. The Witches' three-part prophecy — Glamis, Cawdor, King — is delivered with ceremonial precision, and then the first part is immediately confirmed by Ross. That instant verification does something to Macbeth that we can watch happen in real time: it converts the Witches from curiosities to authorities. Banquo's prophecy — lesser than Macbeth, and greater; not happy, yet much happier; thou shalt get kings, though thou be none — is a perfect specimen of equivocation: paradoxical, technically accurate, and entirely useless as a guide to action. Banquo hears it, is puzzled, and does not start planning. Macbeth hears three words — 'that shalt be king' — and his entire nervous system changes. The most important moment in the scene is one Macbeth doesn't want the audience to see. He goes quiet, then aside: 'This supernatural soliciting / Cannot be ill, cannot be good.' He is already inside his own skull, working through the problem, and what he discovers there frightens him: why does the mere image of murder make his hair stand up when he hasn't decided anything yet? Because he has decided. His body knows before his mind admits it.
If this happened today…
Imagine someone telling you that you're going to be promoted twice — and then watching the first promotion come through before the day is out. The person who told you isn't credible, exactly, but they were right. What do you do with the second prediction? Most people: nothing, they'll see. Some people: the idea of what you'd have to do to make it happen is already there, and you're already trying not to think about it, which means you're already thinking about it.