Weird sisters macbeth full#

You on the other hand should resist, it will be the only way to survive. We could resist, but why would we want too this journey will not end badly for us. We want our storm and you are so willing to give us one. You, Macbeth, find yourself plagued by our dreams and desires. This weakness of yours, leaves you open to ones influence and it would be unsavoury of us to not accept such an invitation. But we know you Macbeth and you will cave to your desires. The seeds of destruction have been planted and if you chose to resist their influence you will find one can be content without power.

Weird sisters macbeth full#

One road will lead you to a long and full life without power but with love, but the other, oh that other, will bring you the power you so greatly desire. A fork in the road that leaves you with a choice. The deep breath before the plunge, the silence before the storm, the preparation before the persecution a persecution that will ravage the kingdom. But she has now joined the game and hubris is her weapon. You should be glad, Macbeth, we did not include her from the beginning, for if we did you would have been long gone and eternally suffering. Our queen visited us, disappointed that she did not get to play. Now his ghost haunts you and his heir is off and thirsty for revenge. As much power as you have seized you are not immortal and you have no living heirs. We had never once mentioned when Banquo's heirs would rule. But of course you didn't because you feared our prophecy. You should have realized that it even the lowliest of lows who murder for money have to be convinced than maybe just maybe you should reconsider. Macbeth, we watched as you convinced murder's to murder. Your fear is like water leaking from a well, it shows your faults and will soon weaken you beyond repair. Fear is what whispers in your ear every second you can spare. If reason was your ruling companion you may have been a fine ruler, past deeds ignored, but it doesn't and you are not. But now you are driven by something much fouler and more powerful than ambition fear. Your wife's ambition drove her to commit the most heinous of crimes and in turn drove yours. You don a mask to hide your true face and your darkest of deeds. Rotting you from your very core. It pleases us to watch you rot, for the most enthralling of things happens upon the brink of death. Lady Macbeth and yourself thought that power would bring you contentment and now you must acknowledge the fact that it only brings forth corruption. Surely a short time enjoying the roses would be better than an eternity watching them wither. But could you not just let it be and enjoy the time you have. A thorn that in your mind must perish by your will. A friend he once was but now that power holds your mind he is but a thorn in your side.

The man who once road beside you, Macbeth, is soon to be dead. We leave you with the only wisdom you ever had: Slain were you by a made enemy born through the tearing of his mother, Macduff. You reaped what you sowed Macbeth. Macduff got his revenge and Malcolm got his rightful throne. You should have realized with the coming of Birnham Wood that our prophecies are not one or the other but all.

You, Macbeth, are either a tragic hero or the most heinous of villains. When your life flashes before your very own eyes, what will you see? A man mislead by women and greed or a man who did what he believed. You lose your wife but you do not grieve. This game for us is loosing it's thrall and boredom is taking it's hold but we will see this to the end.

Now you will learn you are dealt what you deal. You have caused so much death in such a short period of time.

Scotland and England unite to fight your tyranny but in the end only one of them is needed. Your lords and thanes have since left you, none but those whose fear renders them immobile remain. But you Macbeth gallivant about your castle preparing yourself for victory. She walks and speaks of dark deeds that only night's darkest hour could bare. Your wife has fallen ill to the guilt plaguing her soul. Too late is the time to turn around and even if you could, madness would not let you. The stones have long been laid and all you must do is take the final step. The end is near for you Macbeth you are ripe for your fall.