Macbeth - Power and Corruption (Polanski's the Tragedy of Macbeth) Page #2

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kindness to catch the nearest way.

Thou wouldst be great...

... art not without ambition, but

without the illness should attend it.

What thou wouldst highly,

thou wouldst holily.

Wouldst not play false,

yet wouldst wrongly win.

Hie thee hither, that I may pour

my spirits in thine ear.

Hail, Macbeth!

Hail, Thane of Cawdor!

Worthiest cousin! The sin of

my ingratitude was heavy on me.

Only I have left to say, more is

thy due than more than all can pay.

The service and the loyalty

I owe pays itself.

Your part is to receive our duties.

Welcome. I have begun to plant thee

and will labour to make thee grow.

Noble Banquo,

that has no less deserved...

...let me enfold thee

and hold thee to my heart.

There if I grow,

the harvest is your own.

Sons, kinsmen, thanes, and you

whose places are the nearest...

...know we will establish our estate...

...upon our eldest, Malcolm.

Whom we name hereafter

the Prince of Cumberland.

Hail, Prince of Cumberland!

Hail, Prince of Cumberland!

Go hence to Inverness

and bind us further to you.

I'll go and make joyful the hearing

of my wife with your approach.

- So humbly take my leave.

- My worthy Cawdor.

It is a peerless kinsman.

The Prince of Cumberland!

That is a step on which I must

fall down, or else o'erleap.

For in my way it lies.

Macbeth! Macbeth!

Stars, hide your fires.

Let not light see my black

and deep desires.

Great Glamis. Worthy Cawdor.

Greater than both

by the all-hail hereafter.

Thy letter transported me

beyond this present...

...and I feel the future

in the instant.

My dearest love...

...Duncan comes here tonight.

- And when goes hence?

- Tomorrow, as he purposes.

Never shall sun that morrow see.

Your face is as a book

where men may read strange matters.

He that's coming must be provided for.

You shall put this night's

business into my dispatch.

We will speak further.

Look like the innocent flower,

but be the serpent under it.

Leave all the rest to me.

The raven croaks the fatal entrance

of Duncan under my battlements.

Come, you spirits that tend on

mortal thoughts. Unsex me here.

Fill me from the crown to the toe

top-full of direst cruelty.

Make thick my blood. Stop up

the access and passage to remorse...

... that no compunctious visitings

of nature shake my purpose.

This castle hath a pleasant seat.

The air nimbly and sweetly recommends

itself unto our gentle senses.

Come, thick night, pall thee

in the dunnest smoke of hell...

... that my keen knife

see not the wound it makes...

... nor heaven peep through

the dark to cry, "Hold!"

Fair and noble hostess,

we are your guest tonight.

Your servant ever.

Give me your hand.

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