Beeswax

The candles are done. They're rustic, with little lumps and bumps. And they smell delicious. Like warm honey. Making them was quite meditative. I didn't fret over them, just letting them do their thing, even when they picked up a bit of solid wax that created appendages on their otherwise smooth surfaces. These are Macbeth's witch's candles -- they're bent and knobby, they have warts, and I'm pretty sure they're blind.

"Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd."

"Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin'd."

"Harpier cries:—'tis time! 'tis time!"

"Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.—
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot!"

Chanting, "Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble."

"Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble."

Chanting, "Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble."


Part of Act IV, Scene I, Macbeth