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| Character | Lady Macbeth | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Female | |
| Age Range(s) | Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | Inspirational | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Period | Renaissance | |
| Genre | Tragedy, Drama, War | |
| Description | Lady Macbeth invokes the spirits | |
| Details | ACT 1 Scene 5 | |
Summary
Scottish generals Macbeth and Banquo defeat two opposing armies in battle, an Irish and a Norwegian army. Learning about Macbeth's valor in the battle, the king of Scotland, King Duncan, decides to reward him by giving him the title of the Thane of Cawdor, a title that he takes away from the previous thane who betrayed the Scots by fighting for the Norwegians. On their way back to their base, Macbeth and Banquo run into three witches that prophecise that Macbeth one day will be king and Banquo's descendants will be kings. They also call Macbeth "Thane of Cawdor" which surprises him since he still doesn't know about the king's decision. He is even more surprised when, arriving at the base camp, learns that the king has just given him the title of the Thane of Cawdor, thus wondering if he will really become king one day.
Macbeth writes a letter to his wife to tell her what happened. Lady Macbeth sets out to help her husband become king by all means necessary. When a messenger tells her that Macbeth is on his way to the castle, in this monologue Lady Macbeth invokes the spirits to inspire her to do cruel deeds and anything that will help Macbeth become king.
Macbeth writes a letter to his wife to tell her what happened. Lady Macbeth sets out to help her husband become king by all means necessary. When a messenger tells her that Macbeth is on his way to the castle, in this monologue Lady Macbeth invokes the spirits to inspire her to do cruel deeds and anything that will help Macbeth become king.
Written by Administrator
| Excerpt |
|---|
| LADY MACBETH The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!' [Enter MACBETH] Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant. |
