Examples Of Monologue Of Lady Macbeth
Nor heaven peep through the blankets of the dark, curtains that blow like no other wind. How is’t with me I feel an unruly creature has come upon me, have I not been deprived of my feminine instinct? O, the guilt pays no sympathy to my heart, pulling and tugging on the strings that keep my heart whole.
Slowly crawling and devouring my palms. What is this I see before my hands? I have done no harm. My hands are of his colour to wash my hands or not, thee gout of blood stays. Macbeth faulted in our quest, incapable of completing was’t needed to be done. I, more than a man than him, what man was he then? Weak-minded to want to alter the course foreseen before thy. No daughter, mother or woman could be as like a man as I. He who is a man, is’t too full o’ the milk of human kindness. …show more content…
I Lady Macbeth, am not worthy of such masculine attributes do not prove myself worthy. O’ sweet Lord have mercy on me, blood remains on my hands staining my cold heart. Not a lone drop washes away and as I scrub harder my blood merges with the blood of the innocent. Forgive my desire for power; forgive my sins and the fatalities of my desires. Let my heart be whole again, if thy had not push my weak husband into such an atrocity. T’was not me who had framed and killed those caring men whose only purpose was to serve the king. I did not thrust bloody dagger within King Duncan’s beating
Slowly crawling and devouring my palms. What is this I see before my hands? I have done no harm. My hands are of his colour to wash my hands or not, thee gout of blood stays. Macbeth faulted in our quest, incapable of completing was’t needed to be done. I, more than a man than him, what man was he then? Weak-minded to want to alter the course foreseen before thy. No daughter, mother or woman could be as like a man as I. He who is a man, is’t too full o’ the milk of human kindness. …show more content…
I Lady Macbeth, am not worthy of such masculine attributes do not prove myself worthy. O’ sweet Lord have mercy on me, blood remains on my hands staining my cold heart. Not a lone drop washes away and as I scrub harder my blood merges with the blood of the innocent. Forgive my desire for power; forgive my sins and the fatalities of my desires. Let my heart be whole again, if thy had not push my weak husband into such an atrocity. T’was not me who had framed and killed those caring men whose only purpose was to serve the king. I did not thrust bloody dagger within King Duncan’s beating