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I was a woman, a loving caring woman… Once… My dearest loving husband I print these words now, not in joiece or good tidings but sorrow, regret, and unhallowed circumstances. I pray my kinsman that you will hear my deep lament let it resound without malice or enmity. Hark, let my regret rest unto your hearts and minds, be sure that you do not mistake my foolishness for my true self. Avarice…. varice took ahold of my disposition of my soul of both our souls, so strong it was palpable and weighed more than my own weary, mortal soul. I feel horrors, horrors I cannot escape as long as I remain in this mortal realm… When I saw Duncans body… A force hit me, greater than you can fully imagine… I wake, my hands soaked in my peers blood, I bathed and scrubbed my hands until my feeble skin would fall from my unsanctified bones, but as I yield, I see the blood running thicker than the water I’d use to purify myself.
Nought would allow the indissoluble liquid to strip itself from my broken now mortified body, I wonder whether it was truly there or if what I tried to wash was a figment of my fragmented, disjointed consciousness, repaying my own acts of dire, pernicious treachery. Since, I feel empty, hollow, I love you my darling, but I now feel that our love, our bond is no longer as strong… I feel disconnected from thee, I wish only now for thee to love me as strongly as the day we wed.
I know full well I am not the only one of us to be haunted by these nightmares, you too hath been deprived of precious sleep, I’ve seen you cowering in your own imagination, seeing unhallowed ghosts. I have no choice to add that I know you are no longer your own self, I’ve not seen you this mad before, I know the fault is partially my own, but you are no longer yourself, the man I loved would not destroy his friends, would not kill those closest to him from fear they would undo him.
I see I have no choice, Scotland is at war with you, the blood of innocents lay with me, our friends have been killed by your hand, and the man I married no longer loves me. I’ve been living in hell so what would the difference be to let the darkness take me, I write this now, my hands shaking, my soul weak, and my body, growing cold. My gentle tender husband, I love you, truly, I hope death for you is quick and sweat. No matter how disconnected I am, I will always love you. Your loving wife.
Author: Cari Minns
Macbeth: Lady Macbeth’s Suicide Note
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English Assignment Task 1
These last few months have been sorry ones. The actions you and I have undertaken have played on my conscience, and I am finding it hard to cope. I realise that the path we had chosen was the wrong one, and even though I accepted that from the beginning, the consequences of that choice and the mental anguish that I am experiencing now were unimaginable at the time.
I was pleased when I received your letter telling me of your promotion to Thane of Cawdor. I am sure it was a step that pleased you too. But I'm afraid that my ambition to act on the witches prophecies was to be our downfall. The prospect of you being king was so great that I lost touch with reason. When the idea of murdering the king was put forth I know you were hesitant on acting, but I just had to have my ambition fulfilled.
So I pushed you and now I realise that my persistence was not in our best interests, and I'm sorry for it. Perhaps if I had left the decision to your judgement we would have been better off.
What I did I only did for you. For you to be king, how could I for see that we would be worse off. Just the idea that you would be king 'would cheer me ever', but I knew I had to push you to fulfill your potential.
But doubt crept into my mind on the fateful night of Duncans murder. I would have done it myself if he had not looked like my father. He was resting so peacefully in the innocence of sleep, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So you had to. Who could have imagined...