Macbeth Act 1, Scene 3
Storyboard Text
- Show me, show me.!
- Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd as homeward he did come.
- A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come.
- The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters, of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about, Thrice to thine , and thrice to make up nine. Peace! The charm's wound up.
- Speak, if you can. What are you?
- So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
- 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 choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. You should be women, and yet your bears forbid me to interpret that you are so.
- All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
- All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
- All hail, Macbeth, that shalt 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 be nor fear your favors nor your hate
- Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
- Not so happy, yet much happier.
- Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
- Hail! Hail! Hail!
- Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none. So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
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