Monologue Of Macduff's Death

As Macduff trod fourth mournfully from Cawdor Castle, he looked to the sky. The vast clouds and darkening horizon only added to the bereft mood living both in and out of castle walls. Their King was gone; his callous murders, killed in Macbeth’s rage. Suddenly, Macduff did not know which was stronger, his sense of loss, or the distinct sense that something unusual was brewing. No sooner had the thought slipped into his mind, than he noticed a peculiar vitality building in the air around him. Drawn north, he felt virility pouring into his bones the closer he came to the darkest point in the growing storm clouds. Entranced, he did not stop until he came at last to gate, leading into a park not far outside the confines of the tavern. About to

What treachery is this?” it bellowed. Baffled by the king’s rage, Macduff answered his call, “Avenged you were, your highness, by Macbeth the very night you passed. The guards by which the deed was done lay in their own graves by his hand,” This seemed to anger the apparition even more. “What of Macbeth’s grave? The vile man which slaughtered me has killed others, and yet he lives? Who shall avenge me by taking the life of my murder, Macbeth?” rang the strong voice through the clearing. Momentarily aghast by the possibility of what he had heard Macduff sat in silence, before a rage intense as the lightning’s strength filled him. Inflamed, Macduff stood. He faced his King, and quietly but strongly promised, “I will.”” With that, the light floating all around him flew back into Duncan, and as quickly as the light flashed out, deafening thunder boomed behind it. The clouds retreated from the sky, and the last remaining rays of light returned to the clearing, where Macduff stood, alone. Now that the spectacle around him was gone, the energy vanished from the air, the sky clear; the rage that had filled him so suddenly vanished. He was left with nothing but a sense of sorrow, and befuddlement. Had the entire thing been not but a trick of his