Macbeth - Power and Corruption (Polanski's the Tragedy of Macbeth) Page #7

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...and referred me to

the coming on of time with:

'Hail, king that shall be! '

This have I thought good to

deliver thee, my dearest partner...

...that thou mightst not be...

...ignorant of what greatness

is promised thee.

Lay it to thy heart, and farewell."

Hang out our banners

on the outward walls.

The cry is still, "They come!"

Our castle's strength

will laugh a siege to scorn.

Here let them lie till famine

and the ague eat them up.

Were they not stuffed with

those that should be ours...

...we might have met them dareful,

and beat them backward.

What is that noise?

I've almost forgot the taste of fear.

The time has been, my senses would

have cooled to hear a night-shriek.

My fell of hair...

...would at a dismal treatise

rouse and stir as life were in it.

I have supped full with horrors.

Wherefore was that cry?

The queen, my lord, is dead.

She should have died hereafter.

There would have been

a time for such a word.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...

... creeps in this petty pace

from day to day...

... to the last syllable

of recorded time.

And all our yesterdays have lighted

fools the way to dusty death.

Out, out, brief candle.

Life's but a walking shadow.

A poor player struts and frets

his hour upon the stage...

...and then is heard no more.

It is a tale told by an idiot...

...full of sound and fury,

signifying nothing.

Gracious, my lord!

Thy story, quickly!

I should report that which I saw,

but know not how.

Well? Say, sir.

As I did stand my watch,

I looked toward Birnam.

And anon, methought,

the wood began to move.

Liar and slave!

Within a mile may you see it coming.

A moving grove.

If thou speakst false, upon the next

tree shalt thou hang alive...

...till famine cling thee.

Fear not till Birnam Wood

do come to Dunsinane.

And now a wood comes

towards Dunsinane.

Every soldier hath downed a bough

and bears it before him.

Thereby they shadow the number

of their host...

...and make discovery err

in report of them.

I 'gin to be aweary of the sun.

And wish the estate of the world

were now undone.

Ring the alarum bell!

Blow, wind! Come, wrack! At least

we'll die with harness on our back.

Make all our trumpets speak.

Worthy Macduff, you, with young

Seyward, lead our first assault.

Tyrant, show thy face!

Let me find him, Fortune.

And more I beg not.

If thou be slain and

with no sword of mine...

...my wife and children's ghosts

will haunt me still.

- What is thy name?

- Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

No, though thou callst thyself

a hotter name than any in hell!

My name's Macbeth!

The devil could not pronounce

a title more hateful.

- No, nor more fearful.

- Thou liest, abhorred tyrant!

With my sword

I'll prove the lie thou speakst.

Thou werest born of woman.

They have tied me to the stake.

I cannot fly. But bearlike

I must fight the course!

Why should I play the Roman fool

and die on mine own sword...

...while I see lives

that gashes do better on them?

What's he that was not born of woman?

Such a one am I to fear, or none.

Turn, hell-hound! Turn!

Of all men else, I have avoided thee.

I have no words.

My voice is in my sword.

Thou bloodier villain

than terms can give thee out!

My soul...

...is too much charged

with blood of thine already.

Let fall thy blade

on vulnerable crests.

I bear a charmed life...

...which must not yield

to one of woman born!

Despair thy charm and let the angel

whom thou hast served tell thee...

...Macduff was from his mother's womb

untimely ripped.

Accursed be that tongue

that tells me so...

... for it hath cowed

my better part of man.

And be these juggling fiends no more

believed that palter with us.

That keep the word of promise

to our ear and break it to our hope.

I will not yield...

...to kiss the ground

before young Malcolm's feet...

...and to be baited

with the rabble's curse!

Though Birnam Wood be come

to Dunsinane...

...and thou opposed being

of no woman born...

...yet I will try the last.

Lay on, Macduff.

And damned be him that first cries,

"Hold, enough!"

So great a day as this

is cheaply bought.

Hail, king, for so thou art.

Behold where lies

the usurper's cursed head.

The time is free.

Hail, King of Scotland!

Hail, King of Scotland!

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