The
tragedy of Macbeth
by Roman Polanski: 1971
The witches' opening
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The film with English Subtitles:
The witches' prophecy
MACBETH 38 So
foul and fair a day I have not seen. BANQUO 39 How
far is't call'd to Forres? — What are these 40 So wither'd and so wild in their
attire, 41 That look not like the inhabitants
o' the earth, 42 And yet are on't? Live you? or are
you aught 43 That man may question? You seem to
understand me, 44 By
each at once her choppy finger laying 45 Upon
her skinny lips: you should be women, 46 And yet your beards forbid me to
interpret 47 That you are so. MACBETH Speak, if you can: what are you? First Witch 48 All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee,
Thane of Glamis! Second Witch 49 All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee,
Thane of Cawdor! Third Witch 50 All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be
king hereafter! BANQUO 51 Good
sir, why do you start, and seem to fear 52 Things that do sound so fair? — I'
the name of truth, 53 Are
ye fantastical, or that indeed 54 Which
outwardly ye show? My noble partner 55 You
greet with present grace and great prediction 56 Of
noble having and of royal hope, 57 That
he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not. 58 If you can look into the seeds of
time, 59 And say which grain will grow and
which will not, 60 Speak
then to me, who neither beg nor fear 61 Your favours nor your hate.
First Witch 62 Hail! Second Witch Hail! Third Witch Hail! First Witch 65 Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Second Witch 66 Not
so happy, yet much happier. Third Witch 67 Thou
shalt get kings, though thou be none: 68 So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
First Witch 69 Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
MACBETH 70 Stay,
you imperfect speakers, tell me more: 71 By
Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis; 72 But how of Cawdor? The Thane of
Cawdor lives, 73 A prosperous gentleman; and to be
king 74 Stands not within the prospect of
belief, 75 No more than to be Cawdor. Say from
whence 76 You
owe this strange intelligence, or why 77 Upon
this blasted heath you stop our way 78 With such prophetic greeting? Speak,
I charge you.
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Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...
Patrick Stuart in
Macbeth:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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,
That 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.
00.31:00:
Lady Macbeth e Macbeth
2:04:00: E' morta la regina