Why, how now, Hecate? you look angerly.
Why, how now, Hecate? you look angerly.
why, how now, hecate? you look angerly.
why, how now, hecate? you look angerly.
Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
Saucy and overbold? How did you dare
To trade and traffic with Macbeth
In riddles and affairs of death;
And I, the mistress of your charms,
The close contriver of all harms,
Was never call’d to bear my part,
Or show the glory of our art?
And, which is worse, all you have done
Hath been but for a wayward son,
Spiteful and wrathful; who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.
But make amends now: get you gone,
And at the pit of Acheron
Meet me i’ th’ morning: thither he
Will come to know his destiny.
Your vessels and your spells provide,
Your charms, and everything beside.
I am for th’ air; this night I’ll spend
Unto a dismal and a fatal end.
Great business must be wrought ere noon.
Upon the corner of the moon
There hangs a vap’rous drop profound;
I’ll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill’d by magic sleights,
Shall raise such artificial sprites,
As, by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his confusion.
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes ’bove wisdom, grace, and fear.
And you all know, security
Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.
Have I not reason, beldams as you are, Saucy and overbold? How did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death; And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never call’d to bear my part, Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful; who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now: get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i’ th’ morning: thither he Will come to know his destiny. Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms, and everything beside. I am for th’ air; this night I’ll spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end. Great business must be wrought ere noon. Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vap’rous drop profound; I’ll catch it ere it come to ground: And that, distill’d by magic sleights, Shall raise such artificial sprites, As, by the strength of their illusion, Shall draw him on to his confusion. He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes ’bove wisdom, grace, and fear. And you all know, security Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.
have i not reason, beldams as you are, saucy and overbold? how did you dare to trade and traffic with macbeth in riddles and affairs of death; and i, the mistress of your charms, the close contriver of all harms, was never call’d to bear my part, or show the glory of our art? and, which is worse, all you have done hath been but for a wayward son, spiteful and wrathful; who, as others do, loves for his own ends, not for you. but make amends now: get you gone, and at the pit of acheron meet me i’ th’ morning: thither he will come to know his destiny. your vessels and your spells provide, your charms, and everything beside. i am for th’ air; this night i’ll spend unto a dismal and a fatal end. great business must be wrought ere noon. upon the corner of the moon there hangs a vap’rous drop profound; i’ll catch it ere it come to ground: and that, distill’d by magic sleights, shall raise such artificial sprites, as, by the strength of their illusion, shall draw him on to his confusion. he shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear his hopes ’bove wisdom, grace, and fear. and you all know, security is mortals’ chiefest enemy.
have i not reason, beldams as you are, saucy and overbold? h
Scene 3-5 is widely believed by scholars to be non-Shakespearean in origin — most likely an addition by Thomas Middleton, who revised Macbeth sometime between 1606 and 1616 for the King's Men. The evidence is partly stylistic: the scene uses rhyming tetrameter throughout, in a pattern more consistent with Middleton's 'The Witch' (c.1613) than with Shakespeare's dramatic verse. The songs Hecate references — 'Come away, come away' and 'Black spirits' — appear in Middleton's play with full text, suggesting they were interpolated from his work into Macbeth. The scene also adds nothing dramatically that the play requires: we already know the witches will give Macbeth further prophecy, and Hecate's explanation of the trap is somewhat redundant with the dramatic irony already built into the structure. Most contemporary editions include it with a scholarly note on its probable authorship. The First Folio (1623) prints it without attribution. For performance purposes it often works: the operatic quality of Hecate's speech, and the explicit naming of 'security' as the trap, can heighten the dramatic irony of Act 4.
Come, let’s make haste; she’ll soon be back again.
Come, let’s make haste; she’ll soon be back again.
come, let’s make haste; she’ll soon be back again.
come, let’s make haste; she’ll soon be back again.
The Reckoning
A brief, tonally odd scene. Hecate speaks in tetrameter (four-beat lines) rather than the blank verse of the rest of the play, and her rebuke has a somewhat formal, almost operatic quality that feels different from the witches' previous scenes. She announces that she will manufacture prophecies designed to make Macbeth feel invincible — and that his overconfidence will destroy him. The scene functions as a spoiler for Act 4: we are told the mechanism of Macbeth's destruction before he walks into it. Hecate's line 'He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear / His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear' — describes exactly what Macbeth does after the witches' second prophecies.
If this happened today…
The senior partner of a firm finds out that two junior associates have been running an off-the-books client engagement. She's not angry that they're doing something morally questionable — she's angry they cut her out. Now she's going to handle it herself, and her plan is more sophisticated: give the client exactly what he wants to hear, and let his own hubris be the trap.