Macbeth – The Chaos Within

Last year, same date, I shared a poem, by the bearded Bard himself. It’s his 450th birthday today, and everywhere, people are surely celebrating him on their blogs and other social media.

One of Shakespeare’s greatest and my favourite play, is Macbeth. I don’t really know why, but, I know I like tragedies. And Macbeth is one of the biggest tragedies. Here, is the infamous scene of Macbeth, also the major twist in the plot.

Enjoy.

Act 1 Scene 3

MACBETH:
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

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,
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.

MACBETH:
Speak, if you can: what are you?

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,
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.

First Witch:
Hail!

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:
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,
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.