Soliloquoy #2. Act 1, scene 5

 

The raven himself is hoarse  

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 40 

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 50 

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!'

 

 

Even the birds are sore and croak because they know Duncan is going to die in my castle. Some spirits and fill me with cruelty I need to be able to kill the king. Make me tough, stop myself from feeling remorse and guilt. That nature's guilt can not make me not want to do what I intend or put guilt between the murder and the consequences.  Murdering ministers, make my woman breast milk parasitic. You wait for mischief. I wait for night, make my murder's knife not see what it murders or let heaven look at what I do and tell me to stop.