Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett (adapted for stage by stephen briggs)

(Starring Three Witches, also kings, daggers, crowns, storms, dwarfs, cats, ghosts, spectres,
apes, bandits, demons, forests, heirs, jesters, tortures, trolls, turntables, general rejoicing and
drivers alarums.)
The wind howled. Lightning stabbed at the earth erratically, like an inefficient assassin.
Thunder rolled back and forth across the dark, rain-lashed hills.
The night was as black as the inside of a cat. It was the kind of night, you could believe, on
which gods moved men as though they were pawns on the chessboard of fate. In the middle
of this elemental storm a fire gleamed among the dripping furze bushes like the madness in a
weasel's eye. It illuminated three hunched figures. As the cauldron bubbled an eldritch voice
shrieked: 'When shall we three meet again?'
There was a pause.
Finally another voice said, in far more ordinary tones: 'Well, I can do next Tuesday.'