After the death of the king, all lay in disarray. . .
Oh, while we're on that subject,
I regret to say that I am the one
who killed the guards.
Macduff.
What? You killed the guards?
Why? Where? When? How?
Macbeth.
[Not realizing the jam he put himself into tries to explain what happened.]
My instincts told me to do it to them.
After all, in the heat of passion,
who can think clearly?
In that one moment,
I thought I could be wise, amazed, calm,
and furious as well as loyal and objective.
But, no one can do that.
It's impossible.
I acted faster than I could think.
Like I said, instinct took over my brain
when I went in and saw Duncan slain.
There was his white skin covered with golden blood.
Actually, the blood itself was red,
but because he was as good as gold,
I thought it appropriate to say golden blood,
you know, out of respect for the dead.
But, to go on,
the gashes in his body were so big,
and when I say big, I mean really BIG,
so huge that it was like the hole in a volcano
into which and out of which so much of nature's devastation
could come or go at will.
I saw the murderers there
totally drenched in blood
and pieces of his flesh,
parts of his organs,
and multiple strands of hair stuck to them.
I just lost it.
My great love for him just overcame me
and I had to show that love by killing those who killed him.
It all happened in an instant.
Like I said before, it was instinct.
Lady Macbeth:
Oh, please! Help me.
I'm falling and I can't get up.
It is getting deep. I feel faint.
I can't take any more of this.
Macduff.
Someone, catch her before she falls.
If she does, look after her.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 889 times
Written on 2007-01-21 at 02:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Macbeth, Act II, sc. ii, Who Killed the Guards
Macbeth.Oh, while we're on that subject,
I regret to say that I am the one
who killed the guards.
Macduff.
What? You killed the guards?
Why? Where? When? How?
Macbeth.
[Not realizing the jam he put himself into tries to explain what happened.]
My instincts told me to do it to them.
After all, in the heat of passion,
who can think clearly?
In that one moment,
I thought I could be wise, amazed, calm,
and furious as well as loyal and objective.
But, no one can do that.
It's impossible.
I acted faster than I could think.
Like I said, instinct took over my brain
when I went in and saw Duncan slain.
There was his white skin covered with golden blood.
Actually, the blood itself was red,
but because he was as good as gold,
I thought it appropriate to say golden blood,
you know, out of respect for the dead.
But, to go on,
the gashes in his body were so big,
and when I say big, I mean really BIG,
so huge that it was like the hole in a volcano
into which and out of which so much of nature's devastation
could come or go at will.
I saw the murderers there
totally drenched in blood
and pieces of his flesh,
parts of his organs,
and multiple strands of hair stuck to them.
I just lost it.
My great love for him just overcame me
and I had to show that love by killing those who killed him.
It all happened in an instant.
Like I said before, it was instinct.
Lady Macbeth:
Oh, please! Help me.
I'm falling and I can't get up.
It is getting deep. I feel faint.
I can't take any more of this.
Macduff.
Someone, catch her before she falls.
If she does, look after her.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 889 times
Written on 2007-01-21 at 02:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text