Act One, Scene Three

MACBETH
(Aside)Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.

(Aside) This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor.
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
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.

(Aside) If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me
Without my stir.

(Aside)Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

TRANSLATION

MACBETH:
[Aside.] Those witches told two truths
In the end of these acts the throne shall be mine- I thank you, gentlemen.-

[Aside.] This supernatural meeting
Can’t be bad, only it can’t be good either.
If it’s bad,Why has it given me promise of success,
That began with a truth? I am Lord of Cawdor.
If it’s good, why do I give in to that suggestion
Whose horrid image makes my hair stand on end,
And makes my heart pound it knocks on my ribs as if they were a door
Against my will to stay calm? My current fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder is still only a fantastic idea,
Shakes the man inside of me
Is smothered in truthful assumptions
Nothing is impotant expect what is not true.

[Aside.] If luck wants me to be king, luck may crown me
Without my doing anything at all.

 [Aside.] Let whatever’s going to happen, happen.
Time and happiness can run through the roughest day.