M’Lady

From what I heard, my Lady has gone mad. Washing her hands of blood not present, the gentlewomen and the doctor bear witness of her madness. Waling when not present, in a trance once sleeping. The tortured speech squaling from her lips, cleaning the imaginary mess on her hands. The doctor describes it as,

 “Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physician.-- God, God, forgive us all!--Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, and still keep eyes upon her:--so, good-night: My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight: I think, but dare not speak, “ (5.1.2194-202).

My poor lady, mad with the deeds she had confirmed were done without consequence. 

The cows refused to answer my questions! I have been shown my destruction! And now I have heard from accounts that MacDuff has fled to England. And a rebellion he intends on making! And from this moment forward, I decide to do things regardless of their consequences! From now on, I shall move on instinct, in order to stay in the power that was promised to me! I proclaim, “

The castle of Macduff I will surprise; Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword his wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls that trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; this deed I'll do before this purpose cool: but no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen? Come, bring me where they are,” (4.1.1730-36).

I shall achieve the fate I saw, and am no longer afraid of spilling blood in the name of the throne. 

Unanswered...

The dark and stormy night as I see the witches one again. Rather than just three witches, a fourth seems to command them. But I am here for only some answers. I question them more, urging them for answers. I cannot leave without those answers! Rather than direct answers, apparitions appear. 

Three, one to beware of Macduff, one a bloody child. The bloody child says I will be hurt by one not woman born. I feel a weight lifted from my chest, as I realize I am immune. No mortal man can hurt me, or take the crown from me. The third apparition, a child with a leaf and a crown, recites me to not be conquered until Birham Wood marches. 

I press for more and more. I need many more answers! I need to know more! But they disappeared before I recieved the answers I deserved. “Where are they? Gone?--Let this pernicious hour stand aye accursed in the calendar!-- come in, without there, “ (4.1.1708-10).

A Ghost!

White anger courses through my head, as it is revealed Fleance has escaped his murder. Though, naming it a murder no longer affect me. Another element out of my control, another flame I must snuff out before it burns down the defenses I have made. But there are guests! I must shake off these feeling, and attend to these guests. To lure suspension away, I remark about Banquo’s unfortunate absence. Though the others do not know his life has come to an end, they murmur of his tardiness and his projected rudeness. 

But a figure crept onto the reserved seat. No! It musnt be filled, it should be kept empty! “ Here had we now our country's honor roof'd, were the grac'd person of our Banquo present; Who may I rather challenge for unkindness than pity for mischance, ” (3.4.1323-26). It isn't empty! Why are the guests calling me mad? Ross argued with me, but the table is full! Rid the seat of the person!  Is that my Lady calling me mad? He vanished! That ghost has vanished!

Fear? Regret?

The Lady has hindered my dwelling, opting to sing “what’s done is done”. I would not be able to stop these dark thoughts. What I fear most is not done yet, as long as Banquo and Fleance remain alive, my fate hangs by a thin string. To hide my guilt is a deed I cannot do, though, although the Lady gets restless as I mention more. My thoughts still running, as I think out loud, 

“Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep in the affliction of these terrible dreams that shake us nightly: better be with the dead, whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, than on the torture of the mind to lie in restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further,” (3.2.1189-98).

Duncan is dead, but what is to stop those who fled from coming back. Banquo’s offspring have to go. 

Banquo and Fleance

To be put in the way of paradise is Banquo, his fortune too good to be true. For his roots to the heir put in danger my fate. Thus, he must be eliminated. I am aware of his whereabouts as of now. He’ll be riding off with Fleance, and be back in time for the feast. We have laid the seeds of mistrust for our bloody cousins. But yet I sighed,

“For Banquo's issue have I fil'd my mind; For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd; Put rancours in the vessel of my peace only for them; and mine eternal jewel given to the common enemy of man, to make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! Rather than so, come, fate, into the list, “(3.1.1074-80)

It would be a necessary step, and for the better good to kill Banquo. It would not be just for my soul to be wretched from my body for Banquo to reap the fruits of my labor. Thus, I will not be satisfied until fate decides its champion, and my deeds will ensure I am the one to be crowned in victory. 

Dread

The king is dead! Now the dread of discovering the body! My body rushes, thoughts set to run wild. All of a sudden, I heard, “Mean you his majesty?”  Lennox finally spoke up, shaking me from my thoughts. “Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight with a new Gorgon:--do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves” (2.3.843-46) Macduff exclaimed. I dare not see the body , the blood is still fresh. Yet they are yelling. I can not believe it is don't. Soon the castle will be amidst the chaos, and soon I will have to shed more blood. So who would have murdered our gracious king? The drunken guards, the ones I killed to mask my true intentions. 

A Feeling of Guilt?

A bloody dagger, all I see. These bloody thoughts have got a hold of me. How wretched these feelings! They mustn’t stay! The murder of Duncan, lies on my hands. I am no fool, no puppet for this feeling! I should put these thoughts to rest, but ahg-! 

“Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red,” (2.1.721-27).

I want nothing but to scream, this is too much! Is this what a madman feels? 

Dreams

Blood on my hands, terrible dreams. Will they lead Banquo to do the same as I have? No! I am not a madman! Neither is he! But I could not help but become entranced as Banquo and I discussed our lives after our encounted with our futures. “All's well.” Banquo recalled, “I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: to you they have show'd some truth” (2.1.592-94). And without hesitation, I replied, “I think not of them: yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, we would spend it in some words upon that business, if you would grant the time,” (2.1.595-99). It is not necessary to linger on these fortunes. Time will tell our fates by witches brew. What’s been said will be done, as Fate will have us how it wants. 

A Murder!

I felt dread, guilt, or horrible. I did not want to think of myself being filthy. But it was necessary. In order to reach greatness, fate wants to give me, the deed must be done. It’s a gut-wrenching feeling, knowing I must be the one to take the life of a king. But once I asked M’Lady, she told of a plan that would not fail. So I shall put blind faith and jump into her plan. She reminded me, 

“When Duncan is asleep(Where to the rather shall his day’s hard journer  Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince that memory, the warder of the brain shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason a limbeck only. When in swinish sleep their drenched nature lie as in death, what cannot you and I perform upon th’ unguarded Duncan? What not put upon his spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt  Of our great quell,” (1.7.61-72).

I must gather the strength, as it will be the same that will carry me as king. I will be great!

Confronting

I’ve sent m’lady the story of my prophecy, surrounding the greatness predicted by the witches. And with that little information, the Lady has made preparations to allow us a step closer to greatness. I feel as if I can not go through with it, it’s simply an act to vile. But my Lady convinced me, stating, “O, never shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is a book where men may read strange matters. To beguile the time, looks like the time. Bear welcome in your eye your hand, your tongue. Look like th’ innocent flower, but the serpent under’t.”(1.5.57-63) And it stays true. Shall I trust her? She would not undo our progress! Surely, I mustn't worry…...

A Contemplation of King Duncan

Although I had hope squandered, I still am driven by the prospect of the throne. I do appreciate the way Duncan now carries himself, and his prospects as a king do seem with good intent. After our initial meeting, I do see him eventually molding himself into a worthy king. Moods being somewhat joyous, after having pledged our royalty to the new king. But I can not shake these thoughts, these filthy thoughts. Would thee count as treason- nO! I shouldn't have this thought plaguing. But, I exclaim, 

“The prince of Cumberland! That is a step on which I must fall down or else o’erleap for in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires the eye wink at the hand, yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see,” (1.4.48-53)

A Strange Encounter

It was on our way towards Forres, where we had the most peculiar of encounters. Rather, horrific than state is as just unordinary. As Banquo conversed about the king’s court we were to soon encounter, we caught sight of three horrendous hags. 

Banquo sighed, “ What are these, so withered, and so wild in their attireThat look not like th’ inhabitants o’th’ eath.. And yet are on ‘t? - Live you? Or are you ought. Than man may question? You seem to understand me by each at once her choppy finger laying, Upon her skinny lips. You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so. (1.3.39-47)

But they seemed as to have little regard for his observations, as they addressed me by my previous title. Those witches! How they had the audacity to call me by a title, “thane of Cawdor”, as if they had the power to grant me as such a title. They talked in riddles, and rather than stop them, Banquo entertained them and disappeared before answer my questions. Although I was confused, I believe my companion was slightly more shocked. Will I actually be king- NO! I mustn’t let these crones control me with their lies. But would that possibility ever exist? I do still ponder about what transpired, as I feel scared and excited by the realm of possibility the cows conversed of.