What foul wing’d beast hath chanced upon me?
From whence did it come? Have I no mind?
If my thoughts I may awaken from slumber,
Perhaps they will yield answers and give light
To this most ominous query.
You there! Make known to me events that occurred
Whilst I had been gone from this conscious world.
Prithee sir! I beg of you! What has gone?
You do not answer my heed, are you earless?
He is not aware of my presence, how curious.
Ho! What of this? My robes are soiled!
And this gaping wound upon my person does
Cry with the sorrow of thousand widows, and
Bleed forth the elixir of mine afflicted life!
And my hands, as though water from chalice pour’d
Quake and cannot a newborn babe hold.
I have been slain! By Macbeth no less!
That most foul traitor of his royal majesty!
Oh Scotland, how I weep for thee!
But what of Fleance, my son? What of his fate?
I pray that he is safe, Macbeth mustn’t harmed
A hair upon his delicate head or
By the Gods! I will exact most hateful revenge.
Not only for myself, but mine hatchling too,
Untimely kick’d from the nest.
How I mourn for this country and king of mine.
Hark! His visage doth pale in mine ubiquity!
Canst he see me?
Ave! All hail Macbeth! Slithering and slipping,
Most gruesomely awaiting to strike.
What say you, snake? Have you no shame? Ho!
I once had respect for noble Macbeth
But the one who stands before me now he is not.
Open your mouth and let your tongue compose
Your mind to all that observe.
They will think you mad and mad you shall be.
Speak! Let be known thy madness!
He sees, but does not hear.
My tongue is cut and I am helplessly unheard,
Bound by ghostly chains that are not of this world.
Unbind me, that I may speak mine intellect!
Ho! Curses! What is this pain that grasps me?
I - I feel weak, a most terrible ailing!
A poor flimsy flame in a boisterous wind,
Bowing down to forces mightier than God.
Ripping me apart at the bloody seam,
In this agony I cannot bear to stand.
Rip from my hand my heart, to be fed to brave brethren,
Give them its courage and strength
So that they may slay Macbeth!
Beshrew the king who murdered his own men,
Unworthy of his gains and embarrassment to kin.
Thy name bedeviled, thy children killed,
May wine poured from thy cup be poisoned
And taint thy barrel!
With worthy Banquo’s final breath,
Curse’d be Macbeth!