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Lady Macbeth Mad Monologue

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  • Pages: 2
  • Word count: 449
  • Category: Macbeth

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What knowledge is there now that I can be innocent of? Innocent, the eyes of one who sees the corpse of a King, smoothly hacked at like a piece of meat by a well-practiced butcher, knowing that it was those eyes, my eyes, that watched the traitorous act come to pass. How can these little hands ever be clean of guilt, when they are covered in the blood they smothered, still warm, upon the sleeping innocents. I held the very dagger that slashed life to shreds, daggers which now reap their revenge in the stabbing of my dear lord’s soul. How am I to stop this guilt, the fowl opposite of ‘innocence, from being poured into the ear, gradually possessing our senses and having reverence over our actions? I should have known a man so full of milk of human kindness would feel guilt at the act of ripping nature’s King from his throne and stealing the dead mans bloodied robes before he was cold in the grave. I would have done the deed myself had the king not looked so uncannily like my father as he slept that night. So now is my job done dear king?

Have I served my purpose and raised Macbeth to the highest of men and am I now to be watched by a paid spy until one slip up causes for my disposal. Will my husband let the so called scorpions in his mind sting him to the point of paranoia where he would kill his own spouse as he has murdered his best friend. And now he sees spirits drenched in death awaiting him at the table, sitting in his chair. The dead are gone far into the pits of hell, gone, they can’t come back ‘ I tell him so. His spells of fits leave me to answer the questions, me to cover his deeply evident tracks, which could lead us both to sudden downfall, what if one day I fail to perform my role. Can an actor be a snake but play the flower? In a performance yes easily, but in life he would be dug deeper and deeper in a hole until he cannot see the sunlight for he is so far dug in. And as with my husband and I so far stooped in blood we can only wade deeper in. The nobles suspect it and I fear that Macduff does know it due to his failing to attend the feast. Yet I was once so sure, so sure that the dark would hide our actions that we, as king and queen, would escape un-scorched from the scorching inferno of the lies we told.

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