Soliloquys ma' brada!

Soliloquy Act 1, scene 3 

Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act  Of the imperial theme.—                                          I thank you, gentlemen.            

   

This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.
If good, why do I yield to that suggestionWhose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,Against the use of nature?
Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smothered in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not. 

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Translation


There are two sides to every story, 
and in this event the side that's going to make more happy is more appealing. 
Aside from this, nothing good nor bad can come out of this side.
 If it's bad, why has it given me nothing but good?
 But if it's good, why do I hesitate to do it!?
 What terrible things must I do in order to achieve what I want?
What I fear now, 
isn't as terrifying as what I'm imagining.
Although my thoughts are only thoughts,
are taking over me,
and it's all I can think about…
but nothing is nothing.




Soliloquy Act 1, Scene 5 pg. 61


‘They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfect’st report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the King, who all-hailed me “Thane of Cawdor”, by which title, before these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time with “Hail King that shalt be!” This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that though mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.’

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be

What thou art promised; yet do I fear thy nature,

It is too full o’ th’ mink of human kindness

To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great,

Art not without ambition, but without

The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,

That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,

And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou’dst have, great Glamis,

That which cries ‘Thus thou must do, if thou have it’;

And that which rather thou dost fear to do

Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,

That I may pour my spirits in thine ear,

And chastise with the valour of my tongue

All that impedes thee from the golden round,

Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem

To have thee crowned withal.
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Translation


They met the day of the battle, and I've learned that they're smarter than normal people. When I was practically begging to find out and asked for more, they preformed magic and made themselves disappear. As I stood there blankly in wonder and awe, the kings men all came and worshiped me "thane of cawdor". This title wasn't fulfilling enough, for these witches filled my head with I wished them to be saying "king to be". I thought I'd tell you this my dear, in hopes you can still rejoice in the low title that you don't deserve.


You Deserve to be the Lord of Cawdor and more,


I'm afraid that what you've been promised,


will be impossible to achieve due to your kindness.


You would be great,


you're full of ambition! 


But you're not evil.


Though you want to be king,  you're not like a leader;

You would play the game fair, but you’d cheat to win. Lord of Glamis,

you are not brave enough, and you need this to be king.

If you're afraid to do what you have to,

Then your wish will not come true.


Hurry and come home,

So I can tell you all my ideas and opinions

And with the courage behind my words, scold you for

All that keeps you from becoming king, and get you the powers

That the three weird sisters seem

To want you to have.


Soliloquy Act 1 scene 7, pg. 69

If it were done, when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well


It were done quickly. If th’ assassination


Could trammel up the consequence, and catch


With his surcease, success; that but this blow


Might be the be-all and the end-all-here,


But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,


We’d jump the life to come. But in these cases


We still have judgement here, that we but teach


Bloody instructions, which being taught return


To plague th’ inventor. This even-handed justice


Commends th’ ingredience of our poisoned chalice


To our own lips. He’s here in double trust:


First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,


Stonr both against the deed; then, as his host,


Who should against his murderer shut the door,


Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan


Hath borne his favulties so meek, hath been so clear in his great office, that his virtues


Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued against


The deep damnation of his taking-off.


And pity, like a naked new-born babe,


Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubin, horsed


Upon the sightless couriers of the air,


Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,


That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur


To prick the sides of my intent, but only


Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself,


And falls on th’ other-
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Translation

If what needs to be done needs to be done, It's better


if we do it sooner than later. The killing of the king


could have me involved,


Which is the only way I can be king.

If wish this meant that I could become King and the rest is all forgotten,


But that's only true in my thoughts


We’d risk it all if we did this for the future. 

Only here,


We are always punished just because we teach others


How to kill one another, and once they figure it out,


They turn on us. 

This arranged punishment is how people get the poison To our own lips. 

Duncan is here with benefits.


First, he is here because he thinks of me as a friend,


A strong reason to why I wouldn't have killed him,


I should punish the person who killed him,


But instead I killed him myself. Duncan as King


Was a good leader, and has been


So confident with all he has done, that the people who worshiped him


Will pray in his name, all together, against


The damage that his death has done.


The sorrow of all of his people,

 and the natural order of things, listen

to all of the rumours,

So everyone knows about the horrid death,

Everyone will cry.

I don't have the best of reasons to kill him,

I was just being selfish,

And now it has interrupted the natural orders of everything.

Soliloquy Act 2, Scene 1

Is this a dagger which I see before me, 

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 

To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but 

A dagger of the mind, a false creation, 

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? 

I see thee yet, in form as palpable 

As this which now I draw. 

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going,

And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses, 

Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still,

And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, 

Which was not so before. There's no such thing: 

It is the bloody business which informs 

Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world 

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse

The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates

Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd Murder,

Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, 

With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design 

Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 

Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, 

And take the present horror from the time, 

Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives; 

Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
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Translation

Is this a dagger, pointing my way?


Let me grab you dagger,

Why can't I hold you? I can see you can't I?!

Are you not a terrible weapon,


telling me to do terrible things?

 Or are you just my imagination,
And I myself am terrible.

Acting from the thoughts put down by the excitment?

I still see you, as clear as I can see myself.

You're pointing me to the place where I planned on going,

And you showed me the weapons I was going to use.

How come I can only see you and not smell, or feel you?

I still see you,

And the blood falling off of you,

Which did not exist before.

Is it what I've done, that makes

Me see you? Because I killed you,

Sleep makes people seem like they have died, and nightmares threaten

Everyone's sleep. Now the witches celebrate

By worshiping my dark deed and the leader of black magic.

I was warned,

You can't hear my footsteps anymore, 

yet you discovered where I am,

And took in what has been happening then, 

While I kill, he survives,

Words bring him back to life from the excitement of the murder.