macbeth's journal

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).

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).

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. 

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. 

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).

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)

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 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).

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, 

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)