Friday, November 26, 2010

(Act 5 Scene 5, The Castle at Dunsinance, Lines 17-28)
  MACBETH. "She should have died hereafter;
    There would have been a time for such a word.
    Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
    To the last syllable of recorded time;
    And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
    The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
    Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
    And then is heard no more. It is a tale
    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
    Signifying nothing."
Now time for battle awaits for me. However, I found out that my lovely wife, Lady Macbeth has just died. The time is not right for death to be taking hold of me because I have urgent matters to take care of and no time to hold grief inside. Having a numb conscience to even think of sorrow in my mind has long past the time when my human nature had been destroyed making me an uncaring monster, but a hero to withstand such defeat against Macduff. Knowing now that Macduff would be the one to kill me, I find no meaning to live no more and die with this guilt to suffer in the depths of hell.     
 
 

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