Is Banquo gone from court?
Has Banquo left the court?
Has Banquo left?
banquo gone?
Ay, madam, but returns again tonight.
Yes, madam, but he will return this evening.
Yes, but he'll be back tonight.
yeah but hes back tonight
Say to the King, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.
Tell the King I would like to speak with him when he has time; I only need a few words.
Tell the King I'd like to talk to him when he has a moment.
tell king i wanna chat when hes free
Madam, I will.
Madam, I will.
madam, i will.
madam, i will.
The Macbeths are often discussed as a unit — the most terrifying married couple in English drama. But Act 3 scene 2 is the beginning of their separation. In Acts 1-2, Lady Macbeth was the architect: she manipulated Macbeth into action, arranged the cover-up, held him together in the aftermath. Now the pattern is reversed. Macbeth is planning violence independently and telling her nothing. The word 'chuck' — oddly tender — is the giveaway: it is the word a man uses to his wife when he is about to do something she will not like. He has moved past her, into a darkness she helped create but can no longer control. From this scene forward, Lady Macbeth diminishes: she appears less, speaks less, affects events less. By 5-1 she is sleepwalking alone in the dark, still trying to wash her hands of the blood he led her to.
Naught’s had, all’s spent,
Where our desire is got without content:
’Tis safer to be that which we destroy,
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
We have gained nothing and lost everything, Where what we wanted came without satisfaction: It's safer to be the victim of our destruction Than to live in uncertain joy created by it.
We got what we wanted but feel nothing. It would be better to be destroyed than to live like this.
we got power but r miserable better 2 b dead
How now, my lord, why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard: what’s done is done.
How now, my lord, why do you stay alone, keeping the saddest fantasies as your companions, using those thoughts which should have died with the things they concern? Things that have no remedy should not be dwelled upon: what is done is finished.
What's the matter, my lord? Why are you staying by yourself, keeping company with all these miserable worries, holding onto thoughts that should have died when the things they're about happened? Don't waste your energy on things you can't fix. It's over and done—move on.
why are you alone with all these sad thoughts let them go what's done is done
We have scorch’d the snake, not kill’d it.
She’ll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice
Remains in danger of her former tooth.
But let the frame of things disjoint,
Both the worlds suffer,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams
That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing
Can touch him further.
We've wounded the snake, not killed it. It will heal and be whole again, and we remain in danger from its teeth. But let the whole world collapse before we'll live eating our meals in fear and sleeping through terrible dreams that shake us every night. It would be better to be dead—those people we killed so we could gain our peace—than to lie in mental torture with this restless anguish. Duncan is in his grave; after life's fevered struggle he sleeps well; betrayal has done its worst to him. Nothing can touch him further—not steel, nor poison, nor any malice.
We've only wounded the snake, we didn't kill it. It'll heal and come back whole, and we're still in danger from its fangs. I'd rather see the world fall apart than keep living like this, eating meals in fear and waking up every night from these terrible nightmares. It would be better to be dead, the way we've sent those people to death for our peace, than to be alive suffering like this. Duncan's at peace now—after life's struggles, he sleeps well. Betrayal can't do anything more to him.
wounded the snake but didnt kill it / its gonna heal / still in danger / living in fear, nightmares every night / better to be dead / at least duncan's at peace now / can't hurt him anymore
Come on,
Gently my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks;
Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight.
Come now, Gently smooth down your troubled expression; Be cheerful and happy among your guests tonight.
Come on, smooth out that frown. Be happy and friendly with our guests tonight.
chill out smile at the guests
So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you.
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
Unsafe the while, that we
Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,
And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
Disguising what they are.
I will do so, my love; and I pray you do the same. Show honor to Banquo in both looks and words: It's a dangerous situation—we must Wash our honor in flattery, and make our faces masks for our hearts, hiding what we really are.
I will, and I hope you will too. Show respect to Banquo in looks and words. We have to hide what we're really thinking and feeling.
we gotta fake it pretend 2 b fine hide who we r
Literary critics have noted that Macbeth's language undergoes a transformation in Act 3. In Acts 1-2, his dark speeches were remarkable because they interrupted his public competence — he was a great soldier, a trusted lord, and his inner voice was a disruption. By Act 3, the dark imagery has become his primary register. 'The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,' 'life's fitful fever,' 'Come, seeling night' — these are not the words of a man losing control; they are the words of a man who has found his native language, and it is terrible. Shakespeare seems to suggest that tyranny has a poetry to it — that the move into darkness can produce a kind of terrible eloquence. This makes Macbeth more dangerous to sympathize with than a simple villain. We hear his inner life and it is beautiful. That is the trap Shakespeare sets for the audience.
You must leave this.
You must stop thinking about this.
You need to stop dwelling on it.
stop thinking bout it
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.
Oh, my mind is full of painful thoughts, dear wife! You know that Banquo and his son Fleance are still alive.
My mind is full of torture, my love! You know Banquo and Fleance are still alive.
my mind is torture banquo and fleance r alive
But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne.
But their lives are not eternal; they are mortal and will eventually die.
But they won't live forever; they're human.
theyre not immortal
There’s comfort yet; they are assailable.
Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown
His cloister’d flight, ere to black Hecate’s summons
The shard-born beetle, with his drowsy hums,
Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.
There is still hope; they can be killed. So be cheerful. Before the bat has finished flying through the night, before the beetle has announced the deepening darkness, something terrible will happen.
There's still hope—we can still reach them. Cheer up. Before the night is over, something terrible will be done.
theres still time smth bad happens tonight
What’s to be done?
What needs to be done?
What's going to happen?
what happens?
Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,
And with thy bloody and invisible hand
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
Which keeps me pale!—Light thickens; and the crow
Makes wing to th’ rooky wood.
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,
Whiles night’s black agents to their preys do rouse.
Thou marvell’st at my words: but hold thee still;
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
So, pr’ythee, go with me.
Don't know about this, my dear, until after it's done and you can celebrate it. Come, night, blind the weak eye of pitiful daylight, and with your invisible, bloody hand destroy that bond that keeps me afraid!— Darkness falls; the crow heads to the woods. Good things fade away as night comes, and evil things rise up. You're shocked by my words, but stay quiet. Bad deeds feed themselves through more evil. Come, let's go together.
Don't ask questions about this, sweetheart—just wait and you'll understand. Let darkness come and cover everything. Destroy what binds us to this fear. Night is falling, and evil is waking up. Don't worry about my words; just trust me. Come with me.
dont ask questions just b patient trust me cmon
The Reckoning
This is the scene where the marriage begins to come apart — not through argument but through divergence. They are both suffering, but differently. Lady Macbeth is trying to manage: 'what's done is done,' she says — move on, stop torturing yourself. Macbeth cannot. He envies Duncan, who is safely dead. And he has moved ahead of her into the next conspiracy without telling her what he is planning. For the first time she does not know what he intends. He has taken on the darkness alone. His language in this scene is some of the most beautiful and terrible in the play: 'Come, seeling night, / Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day.' He is addressing darkness the way Lady Macbeth addressed spirits in Act 1 — but now it is his native element, not something he needs to summon.
If this happened today…
Two people who committed a crime together in a moment of adrenaline are now living with it six months later. One is trying to act normal — keep to routines, stop dwelling. The other can't sleep, is obsessing about loose ends, and has started making plans they haven't mentioned. They're in the same room but they're not really together anymore.