HECATE: I am your mistress—the source of your powers, the secret engineer of all evils! Why was I never called upon to play my part or demonstrate the glory of my powers? And what's worse, you've done all this for a spoiled child full of wrath and spite, who—like all men—acts only for himself and not for you...and yet, you may make amends to me.
Be gone now, and tomorrow morning meet me at the hell-river Acheron. Macbeth will come there to learn his destiny. Bring your cauldrons and your spells, your charms and everything else. I will now take to the air, to spend this night crafting disaster and doom. Great events will strike before noon.
Upon the corner of the moon there hangs a celestial drop of liquid—I'll catch it before it falls. When distilled by my magic, it will produce illusions to fool Macbeth, drawing him deeper into his own destruction.
He will think himself greater than fate—he will mock death and think himself above wisdom, grace, and fear. And as you all know, confidence is mankind's greatest enemy.