Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
Fly our banners on the castle walls. The constant cry is "They come!" Our castle's strength will mock their siege: let them stay here until hunger and disease kill them. If they weren't joined by soldiers who should be with us, we could have met them bravely, face to face, and sent them home defeated.
Put our flags up on the walls. Everyone's shouting "They're coming!" But our castle is too strong for a siege. Let them sit outside and starve. If they didn't have defectors from our own side, we could've faced them head-on and kicked them back across the border.
fly our banners they're coming but we're strong let them starve if they didn't have traitors from our side we'd beat them
What is that noise?
What's that sound?
What's that noise?
what was that
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
That cry is from women, my lord.
My lord, that's women screaming.
that's women crying
The 'Tomorrow' speech is often read as Shakespeare's most nihilistic statement — a declaration that life has no meaning, that time is pointless, that existence is noise signifying nothing. And it is. But it matters who says it, when, and why. Macbeth has just been told his wife is dead. The speech is nominally a reflection on time (prompted by 'there would have been a time for such a word'), but its emotional source is the accumulation of everything he has lost. Every 'tomorrow' he reaches has brought him further from the man he was, and each one has confirmed that the future he was trying to secure — safety, dynastic continuity, undisputed power — was always already impossible. The nihilism of the speech is not abstract philosophy; it is the specific nihilism of a man who has destroyed everything in pursuit of something that never existed. 'Signifying nothing' is his judgment on his own life. The tragedians of antiquity would recognize the pattern: the man who pursued greatness at any cost and found that the cost was greatness itself.
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
I've almost forgotten what fear feels like. There was a time when a scream in the night would freeze my blood, and my hair would stand on end at a terrible story as if it were alive. I've eaten my fill of horrors; dreadfulness, so familiar to my murderous thoughts, can't even startle me anymore.
I barely remember what fear even is. There was a time when a scream in the dark would make my blood run cold, my hair would stand up just hearing something awful. I've seen so many horrible things, I'm numb to it all now. Nothing scares me anymore.
forgot what fear is used to react to everything heard too much horror numb now nothing scares me
Wherefore was that cry?
Why did we hear that cry?
What was that screaming?
why screaming
The Queen, my lord, is dead.
Your queen has passed away, my lord.
My lord, your wife is dead.
your wife is dead
She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
She should have died at some other time. There would have been an appropriate moment for such news. But days just creep forward, one after another, until the end of all recorded time; and all our past days have lit the way for fools to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle of life! Life is only a walking shadow; a poor actor who performs his hour on stage and then is never heard from again: it is a story told by a fool, full of noise and fury, meaning nothing.
She should have died some other time. If she had to die, there should've been a moment to mourn it. But life just drags on, day after day, to the very end. All our yesterdays are just lighting the way to death. Stop, stop, life is so short! Life is just a shadow, like an actor who has his moment on stage and then disappears. It's a story that means nothing, just noise and rage.
she should've died another time life just drags on day after day til death it's just a shadow an actor's brief moment meaning nothing
What critics and directors must decide about 5-5 is what happens in the six words between 'signifying nothing' and 'Arm, arm, and out.' Macbeth has just delivered the most despairing speech in the play — perhaps in all of Shakespeare. And then he arms up and marches out to fight. How do we understand this? One reading: the nihilism makes the action possible — when nothing matters, there is no reason not to fight, and fighting is the only thing left to do. Another reading: the speech is performance, a form of display to himself and his remaining soldiers; underneath it, Macbeth's animal survival instinct is still active. A third reading: this is the measure of tragic character — Macbeth cannot stop. He has described the abyss and he turns from it immediately because looking into it too long is unbearable. All three readings produce valid performances. The text supports all of them.
Thou com’st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
You've come to speak; tell your story quickly.
You're here with news; spit it out fast.
tell me now
Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do’t.
My lord, I should report what I saw, but I don't know how to say it.
My lord, I have to tell you what I saw, but I'm struggling to find the words.
i saw something but i can't say it right
Well, say, sir.
Well, say, sir.
well, say, sir.
well, say, sir.
As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look’d toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.
As I stood watch on the hill, I looked toward Birnam, and it seemed to me the wood began to move.
I was standing on the hill keeping watch, and I looked over at Birnam, and the forest looked like it was moving.
i was watching from the hill looked at birnam the forest was moving
Liar, and slave!
Liar, and slave!
liar, and slave!
liar, and slave!
Let me endure your wrath, if’t be not so.
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.
Let me suffer your anger if it's not true. Within three miles you can see it coming; I'm telling you, a grove that's moving.
Punish me if I'm lying. But you can see it yourself within three miles. I'm telling you, the entire forest is moving.
beat me if i'm wrong but look 3 miles away the whole forest is moving
If thou speak’st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.—
I pull in resolution; and begin
To doubt th’ equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth. “Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane;” and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane.—Arm, arm, and out!—
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
I ’gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish th’ estate o’ th’ world were now undone.—
Ring the alarum bell!—Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we’ll die with harness on our back.
If you're lying, you'll hang alive on the next tree until starvation kills you: if you're telling the truth, I don't care if you kill me the same way. My courage is crumbling; I'm starting to doubt the demon's twisted words that seemed like truth. "Fear not, till Birnam wood comes to Dunsinane;" and now a wood comes toward Dunsinane. Get armed and get out! If what he promised actually appears, there's no escaping or staying here. I'm growing weary of living and wishing the world were destroyed. Ring the alarm bell! Blow, wind! Come, ruin! At least we'll die wearing armor.
If you're lying, I'll hang you alive on a tree and watch you starve. If you're telling the truth, I don't care if you do the same to me. I'm falling apart. The demon lied to me in a way that sounded true: "Don't fear till Birnam wood moves to my castle," and now the forest is actually walking here. We need armor and we need out! If this is really happening, there's nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. I'm sick of all this, I wish the world would just end. Sound the alarm! Let the chaos come! At least we'll die fighting with our armor on.
hang u if u lie but if u're telling truth i don't care i'm falling apart the fiend lied perfectly now birnam wood's moving no escape ring the alarm we die with armor on
The Reckoning
The emotional climax of Act 5. Two catastrophes arrive in quick succession: Lady Macbeth's death and the news that the prophecy is being fulfilled. Macbeth's response to his wife's death is the most debated moment in the play — 'She should have died hereafter': did he mean she would have died eventually anyway, or that she chose a bad time to die? Either reading reveals a man too exhausted by loss to feel this loss properly. Then the 'Tomorrow' speech — three sentences of pure philosophical nihilism. And then, immediately after, Macbeth does not collapse. He puts on his armor and goes out to fight. That transition — from 'life is meaningless' to 'arm, arm, and out' — is the final measure of Macbeth: a man who can reach the bottom of despair and keep moving.
If this happened today…
A man is told his wife has died. He says, 'Yes — she would have died eventually.' Then his communications officer tells him the impossible thing that was supposed to protect him has happened. He sits for a moment and delivers the most honest speech about meaninglessness you've ever heard. Then he says: 'Let's go.'