MacDuff: A Teaser From Act One, Scene One
...Hecate: Peace! I the mistress of your charms should not be called to your account
The toll, the cost, the reckoning of the amount is mine to assess
Our wayward son, MacBeth has come to know his destiny
Yet there is no end to our accursed calumny, so be contented, children mine.
Armed mutiny, spurred by our blessing, affirmed the faith that you profess--
Led another soul, piked and splayed, to the very gates of blessed Inverness
Where cursed blood will drip and stain, cast a pall on Malcolm’s pious reign,
And dissolve the Scottish crown to nothingness.
Childless MacBeth and his haglike queen have played their part…now comes the triumph of our art.
Third Witch: I prithee, sisters, to whom should we direct our wrath? Who will bear the rough cross of our distemper?
First Witch: He who is of no woman born! He who slew the bold MacBeth! Though no king, his kingly virtues cry to heaven, and must be smothered by the same deep and dark desires enkindled in MacBeth.
Second Witch: In him we will find no man so easily led, and no fiendlike bride to nurse the hestal flames.
Hecate:
Then let us bring to bear our hellish wrath
And shake this titan from his servile path.
Tonight a heavy fog enshrouds the Scottish hills
The swollen river wears the treeroots white
As greymalkins call, and warblers trill
The tide will climb the banks tonight
The feeble dams will burst and walls will crumble
and swallow up homes both proud and humble
Babes emerging from the womb
Will sleep soundly in their riverbank tomb
From there we'll disinter their bones
For use in spells most foul.
Let every curse distill in hearts of Malice
And lead MacDuff to drink from Poisoned chalice (cackle).
...What do you think?
The toll, the cost, the reckoning of the amount is mine to assess
Our wayward son, MacBeth has come to know his destiny
Yet there is no end to our accursed calumny, so be contented, children mine.
Armed mutiny, spurred by our blessing, affirmed the faith that you profess--
Led another soul, piked and splayed, to the very gates of blessed Inverness
Where cursed blood will drip and stain, cast a pall on Malcolm’s pious reign,
And dissolve the Scottish crown to nothingness.
Childless MacBeth and his haglike queen have played their part…now comes the triumph of our art.
Third Witch: I prithee, sisters, to whom should we direct our wrath? Who will bear the rough cross of our distemper?
First Witch: He who is of no woman born! He who slew the bold MacBeth! Though no king, his kingly virtues cry to heaven, and must be smothered by the same deep and dark desires enkindled in MacBeth.
Second Witch: In him we will find no man so easily led, and no fiendlike bride to nurse the hestal flames.
Hecate:
Then let us bring to bear our hellish wrath
And shake this titan from his servile path.
Tonight a heavy fog enshrouds the Scottish hills
The swollen river wears the treeroots white
As greymalkins call, and warblers trill
The tide will climb the banks tonight
The feeble dams will burst and walls will crumble
and swallow up homes both proud and humble
Babes emerging from the womb
Will sleep soundly in their riverbank tomb
From there we'll disinter their bones
For use in spells most foul.
Let every curse distill in hearts of Malice
And lead MacDuff to drink from Poisoned chalice (cackle).
...What do you think?
