The bitter hour grows as the wrath of Malcom marches over Dunsinane Hill, who has made it his dire obligation to kill Macbeth. What distasteful action hath caused ten thousand men to come roaring at this once peaceful castle? My fellow comrades have been caught in the middle of this indignation and now pay with an early death. Fear strikes me as I have been left in this predicament; to choose the fate of many young lives that resided to this castle for peace. It is evident Macbeth’s rule has caused undesirable anguish to the people of Scotland, but there must be more than meets the eye for this rage that rests upon him.
Ever since Duncan’s vicious murder, the castle has grown into chaos. I guarded Duncan’s chambers for years from the wretched
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Every word that left his mouth contained Banquo and his absence “And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss…” Why it is that very day Banquo dies Macbeth talks of him endlessly. That day as I stood guard, three leery faces dressed in black secretly met with Macbeth. Later that day, Banquo was confirmed dead, with Fleance narrowly escaping the savage slaughter. It is evidence enough to say Macbeth was the man behind this ghastly planning. It has all become obvious, he is the one who brought this tenacious wrath to this town, he is the one who commanded the death of Banquo and he is the one who forced the blade into our beloved king. The very dagger that killed our king sits on the back of my belt picked after Macduff’s pessimistic scream echoed the castle. A spot of blood still remains on the tip, an ill reminder of his excruciatingly cruel death killed during the late night by a once close friend. Is this how you repay the man who treated you like a brother? Was the Thane of Cawdor and Glamis not enough? Who knew one dagger could cause such predicament. Macbeth’s once tranquil heart has been transformed into a heinous villain by his thriftless ambition for …show more content…
My life long soldiers wear a face of despair and confusion. The once nimbly and sweet air that occupied this castle, swept away by stagnant fog. Scotland grows agitated and restless of your rule. How can I forgive Macbeth for this? We have fallen into the bloody games forged by Macbeth. He shall no longer continue this atrocious game and I shall not find myself in Malcolm’s way. There is no love left for those who murder innocent people. I will not yield my sword for the murderous tyrant that is Macbeth. I shall not stand on this wretched wall and watch the thoughts of death consume my fellow comrades, my people and my graceful