The Diary of Lady Macbeth
The king comes here tonight, and he must be provided for. For today, I did receive a letter from my dearest love Macbeth. The weïrd sisters met him in the day of success, and saluted him as Thane of Cawdor, and said that king he shalt be. Then missives from the king all-hailed him Thane of Cawdor! Macbeth, thou shalt be what thou art promised, if thou leave the rest to me. Yet, I do fear that his nature does not befit a king. Though he has ambition, he is too full of the milk of human kindness to catch the nearest way. But I will pour my spirits in his ear, and chastise with the valour of my tongue all that impedes from the golden round. His face is a book where men may read strange matters. But I will teach my dearest love to play false, so that he may beguile the time, bear welcome in his eye, his hand and his tongue. Macbeth will look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it, for to alter favour ever is to fear. But he must put the night's great business into my dispatch, and leave all to me.
Oh, would I that the spirits would unsex me here, and fill me with direst cruelty! I wish my blood was thick, that no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose! Come, thick night, and pall the in the dunnest smoke of hell, so that heaven may not see my actions and cry "Hold, hold". But Macbeth, my dearest partner of greatness, leave all the rest to me, and you shall have the golden round.
The king comes here tonight, and he must be provided for. For today, I did receive a letter from my dearest love Macbeth. The weïrd sisters met him in the day of success, and saluted him as Thane of Cawdor, and said that king he shalt be. Then missives from the king all-hailed him Thane of Cawdor! Macbeth, thou shalt be what thou art promised, if thou leave the rest to me. Yet, I do fear that his nature does not befit a king. Though he has ambition, he is too full of the milk of human kindness to catch the nearest way. But I will pour my spirits in his ear, and chastise with the valour of my tongue all that impedes from the golden round. His face is a book where men may read strange matters. But I will teach my dearest love to play false, so that he may beguile the time, bear welcome in his eye, his hand and his tongue. Macbeth will look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it, for to alter favour ever is to fear. But he must put the night's great business into my dispatch, and leave all to me.
Oh, would I that the spirits would unsex me here, and fill me with direst cruelty! I wish my blood was thick, that no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose! Come, thick night, and pall the in the dunnest smoke of hell, so that heaven may not see my actions and cry "Hold, hold". But Macbeth, my dearest partner of greatness, leave all the rest to me, and you shall have the golden round.
