Monologue Of Macduff's Death

As Macduff trod fourth mournfully from Cawdor Castle, he looked to the sky. The vast clouds and darkening horizon only added to the bereft mood living both in and out of castle walls. Their King was gone; his callous murders, killed in Macbeth’s rage. Suddenly, Macduff did not know which was stronger, his sense of loss, or the distinct sense that something unusual was brewing. No sooner had the thought slipped into his mind, than he noticed a peculiar vitality building in the air around him. Drawn north, he felt virility pouring into his bones the closer he came to the darkest point in the growing storm clouds. Entranced, he did not stop until he came at last to gate, leading into a park not far outside the confines of the tavern. About to

pass the gates by and go in search of the paradigm shift of the evening, he noticed a shadow shifting behind a nearby tree. Shifting himself to the tree’s side, and peering around its rough dark surface, he managed to behold an otherworldly sight. Three figures, strange and deformed in appearance, yet incomprehensibly attractive to the senses circled, chanting indecipherably to one another. Cautiously, Macduff approached, to curious to turn away and to baffled to be afraid. The sisters turned to him, and in their presence there was no longer any doubt as to where the energy enrapturing Macduff originated. Without so much as a break in their rhythmic rhetorical, one of the figures stepped out to Macduff before a harmonious chorus of praise fell from three sets of lips, “Extolment, pleasured, blessed are we to stand in the presence of Macduff, his future royal highness,” came the chanted seduction. “Dangerous are such words, outlandish creatures. Have you no respect? Our own king has just perished, unjustly in his bedchamber, betrayed by those meant to guard him. Therefore, watch your tongues, afore their chants reach the heights of treason,” Macduff called defensively, still stunned to see such weird sisters. As soon as his words were uttered, the sisters laughed a haunting shriek of amusement. “Betrayed by guards?” they called out, “Know you not that some other power here is at play? A mighty King, cut down by mere drunk guards.” The laughs had risen to a monumental volume, and with them the wind seemed to pick up around them, tugging at trees as well as pulling hair and clothes like jealous siblings. Macduff tried to call out of the howling wind and cackling cries of the sisters, “You foul creatures, know you something of the kings death?” He pulled out his sword, holding it strong through the slicing wind, “Then come with me to the castle lying wenches, and tell to those of the court.” As he approached the sisters, a bolt of ghostly lightning fell onto the ground before his feet. It charged the air, and filled the clearing with an abnormal light. Dumbstruck, Macduff faltered, falling to the dirt below him. The light from the plasma flickered and glowed, taking form before Macduff, and hiding the sisters from view. “Treacherous witches, what trickery do you bring before me?” Macduff struggled to get up but it was not long before the pulsating light formed into a fully fledged apparition before him, and fell for good, shocked silent by the face before him. King Duncan had returned to his land. His figure was light, bluish as if it were still held all the power of lightning. Perhaps kings were sovereign even in death. Even the wind, still blowing, was silent as the apparition began to speak,” Macduff!” the voice thundered. “Murdered was I this last night! And no one to avenge their ruler?!

What treachery is this?” it bellowed. Baffled by the king’s rage, Macduff answered his call, “Avenged you were, your highness, by Macbeth the very night you passed. The guards by which the deed was done lay in their own graves by his hand,” This seemed to anger the apparition even more. “What of Macbeth’s grave? The vile man which slaughtered me has killed others, and yet he lives? Who shall avenge me by taking the life of my murder, Macbeth?” rang the strong voice through the clearing. Momentarily aghast by the possibility of what he had heard Macduff sat in silence, before a rage intense as the lightning’s strength filled him. Inflamed, Macduff stood. He faced his King, and quietly but strongly promised, “I will.”” With that, the light floating all around him flew back into Duncan, and as quickly as the light flashed out, deafening thunder boomed behind it. The clouds retreated from the sky, and the last remaining rays of light returned to the clearing, where Macduff stood, alone. Now that the spectacle around him was gone, the energy vanished from the air, the sky clear; the rage that had filled him so suddenly vanished. He was left with nothing but a sense of sorrow, and befuddlement. Had the entire thing been not but a trick of his

grief? He remembered the feeling of staring into the weird sisters eyes and knew that it was not. Yet remembering their stare, it occurred to him also that they were deceivers, conjurers and that nothing he had just seen was certain. “Now is not the time for rash action or dismissal. It is best to steal away and contemplate the phenomena of the evening. Better to solve the puzzle before me, than to betray friend or forsake crown lightly,” .