Macbeth Diary Analysis
Dear Diary,
Like Macbeth, I was a general in King Duncan’s army. People admired my bravery, they feared my wisdom. The facade that hid my emotions intimidated people; I wasn’t to be messed with.
Macbeth and I were walking back from our victory in the battle when we crossed a heath which seemed unusually misty and foggy. It was as if I could feel the eerie presence of evil, and that’s when we saw them; three old looking ladies. We had crept cautiously to investigate the matter; the witches had been muttering unfathomable words. They were so withered-looking and crazily dressed. They didn’t look like they belonged to this planet, and I didn’t know anything of their intelligence. To me, they looked like women, but their beards kept me from believing
they really were as such. They shocked me even more as they cried out Macbeth becoming Thane of Cawdor, then later King. I wasn’t overcome with joy for my dear friend, no, I was filled with envy and jealousy. Thoughts crept into my mind. How was it that a man, in no higher rank than me, would become Thane of Cawdor, let alone King?
However, the more I thought about Macbeth’s prophecies, the more peculiar they seemed, I doubted they would become true as Malcolm, then Donalbain were in line for the throne after King Duncan. Even though I dismissed what the witches had said, I couldn’t help but ask about my own future, and what I got as a response shocked me even further; I would be not so happy, yet much happier, lesser than Macbeth, yet greater, I wouldn’t become King, yet my children would. All these things were too irrational to be true, but I felt like Macbeth didn’t think the same; he was less sceptical but it wasn’t like him to pursue these things of impossible ambitions. Our confrontation with the weird sister was short and felt childish. I doubted anything would ever become reality.
Like Macbeth, I was a general in King Duncan’s army. People admired my bravery, they feared my wisdom. The facade that hid my emotions intimidated people; I wasn’t to be messed with.
Macbeth and I were walking back from our victory in the battle when we crossed a heath which seemed unusually misty and foggy. It was as if I could feel the eerie presence of evil, and that’s when we saw them; three old looking ladies. We had crept cautiously to investigate the matter; the witches had been muttering unfathomable words. They were so withered-looking and crazily dressed. They didn’t look like they belonged to this planet, and I didn’t know anything of their intelligence. To me, they looked like women, but their beards kept me from believing
they really were as such. They shocked me even more as they cried out Macbeth becoming Thane of Cawdor, then later King. I wasn’t overcome with joy for my dear friend, no, I was filled with envy and jealousy. Thoughts crept into my mind. How was it that a man, in no higher rank than me, would become Thane of Cawdor, let alone King?
However, the more I thought about Macbeth’s prophecies, the more peculiar they seemed, I doubted they would become true as Malcolm, then Donalbain were in line for the throne after King Duncan. Even though I dismissed what the witches had said, I couldn’t help but ask about my own future, and what I got as a response shocked me even further; I would be not so happy, yet much happier, lesser than Macbeth, yet greater, I wouldn’t become King, yet my children would. All these things were too irrational to be true, but I felt like Macbeth didn’t think the same; he was less sceptical but it wasn’t like him to pursue these things of impossible ambitions. Our confrontation with the weird sister was short and felt childish. I doubted anything would ever become reality.