Macbeth

First Witch
When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Second Witch
When the hurly-burly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.Anaphora & Anapodoton

Fair is foul, and foul is fair

Third Witch
That will be ere the set of sun.
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Malcolm
Hail, brave friend!
Say to the King the knowledge of the broil
As thou didst leave it.

So from that spring whence comfort seemed to come
Discomfort swells

Captain
Doubtful it stood,
As two spent swimmers that do cling together
And choke their art.Simile The merciless Macdonwald
Worthy to be a rebel,
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Duncan
Who comes here?
Malcolm
The worthy Thane of Ross.
Lennox
What a haste looks through his eyes!
So should he look that seems to speak things strange.
Ross
God save the King.
Duncan
Whence cam’st thou, worthy thane?

No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom interest.
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First Witch
Where hast thou been, sister?
Second Witch
Killing swine.
Third Witch
Sister, where thou?

Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
And thrice again, to make up nine.
Peace, the charm’s wound up.

First Witch
A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap
And munched and munched and munched.
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Macbeth
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Banquo
How far is ’t called to Forres?—What are these,
So withered, and so wild in their attire,
That look not like th’ inhabitants o’ th’ 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.
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Macbeth
Stay, you imperfect speakers. Tell me more.
By Sinel’s death I know I am Thane of Glamis.
But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives
A prosperous gentleman, and to be king
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting.
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Macbeth
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
Promised no less to them?

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man
That function is smothered in surmise,
And nothing is but what is not

Banquo
That,
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Duncan
Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
Those in commission yet returned?
Malcolm
My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die, who did report
That very frankly he confessed his treasons,
Implored your Highness’ pardon, and set forth
A deep repentance.
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Duncan
O worthiest cousin,
The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,Metaphor
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! Only I have left to say,
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Lady Macbeth
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be
What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great,
Art not without ambition, but without
The illness should attend it.

Yet do I fear thy nature;
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