Act One , Scene Seven

MACBETH
If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly: if the 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 judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
Commends the ingredience of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong 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 faculties 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 the
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on th'other.

TRANSLATION

 

 

If the task were done, when it was done,

it should be done quickly, if the assassination

could entangle the consequences, and catch

with his murder, be a success. If only this murder
Could be the be-all and the end-all right here,

Only here , at this dark time
We'd risk everything we have to have more. Only in these things,
If we are not puniched for our sins we will be teaching others that it is okay to kill
and once they learn, they come back
To murder us.  Justice is evenly handed out it
Returns to us the ingredients of poisoned
To our own lips. Duncan is here in double trust.
First, he is here because I am his family and his subject,
Both Strong reasons why I should protect him

Secondly, as his host I should keep the murders locked out ,
Not have the dagger myself in hand. Besides, this Duncan
Has been very humble , proud and confident of how things are going.

free from pain ,the virtues will pray like angles as loud as trumpets play

against the deep evil act of murder, and pity, like a naked new-born baby,

Moving in opposite direction of the death, or heaven's messengers, backed up
by the messengers of the air,
Shall everyone hear about the tragic death of the king,
And tears shall drown out of the wind. I can't think of one good reason why I murder him, only

Ambition that lead me to it, even itself,
And it falls on the other reasons

Act Two, Scene One

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. A bell rings.
I go, and it is done: the bell invites me.

Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.

TRANSLATION

 Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle pointed toward my hand? Come, let me hold you.
I don’t hold you, and yet I still see you!

Is it possible,fatal vision, to touch

as to see you? Or are you only
A dagger of the mind, mind trick, I see what I need to kill
I still see you, you look so real like the dagger I can pull out now.
You lead me on the way i was already going,
And show me the instrument I was to use.
Are my eyes seeing correct? I still see you,
And I see great amount of blood on your blade,
Which were not there before. This is make believe.
It is the thought to kill that makes me see you.

 Now, half the world is asleep , some may not awaken in the morn

They have nightmares of their death,  Now witches celebrate
Offerings to the Hecate. And old man murder,
awakened by the sound of his friend the wolf,

Who howls to announce hes watching, then with his sneeky pace

like Targuin, as quiet as a ghost. Solid ground.

Don't listen to my footsteps, or the way I walk

For fear that this floor will echo where I am,

and take them still while sleeping

something that is so suitable for what I am about to do.

While I am still talking the King is still breathing

The more I continue talking the less ability I have to murder him

I am here and it is as good has done, the ringing is inviting me

Do not listen to the bell Duncan, for it is chosing you

Heaven or hell

 

Act One, Scene Six

DUNCAN
This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.

BANQUO
This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet does approve,
By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
The air is delicate.

DUNCAN
See, see our honoured hostess.
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,
Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you
How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble.

LADY MACBETH
All our service
In every point twice done and then done double
Were poor and single business to contend
Against those honours deep and broad wherewith
Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,
And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
We rest your hermits.

DUNCAN
Where's the thane of Cawdor?
We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose
To be his purveyor: but he rides well;
And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him
To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,
We are your guest to-night.

LADY MACBETH
Your servants ever
Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt,
To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
Still to return your own.

DUNCAN
Give me your hand;
Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,
And shall continue our graces towards him.
By your leave, hostess.


TRANSLATION


DUNCAN
This castle is a peaceful place. The air is soothing it appeals itself to our seneces.

BANQUO
Fact is the summer bird, approves of the air that flows around the castle, they build their hanging nests all around the castle walls, because the air is the sweet here.

DUNCAN
Here comes the lovely Lady Macbeth! Sometimes the love we get is inconveient, which i will still take as love. I'm trying to make you apperiate the trouble I am causing you. Because it is an act of love.

LADY MACBETH
Everything we are doing for you is nothing compared to the honors you have brought to our family even if they were doubled.We take you greatfully into our home as if you were family.

DUNCAN
Where is the new Thane of cowdor? Great Macbeth? We followed him closely, in hope to arrive before him, but he rides well and is great love, which is as sharp as a spur, helped
him to beat us here. Lady Macbeth,
we are your guests tonight.

LADY MACBETH
We are your servants,
our house, myself, and everything else is ready for you
we keep it in your trust and
our glad to return it to you

DUNCAN
Give me your hand.
Bring me to Great Macbeth. We love him so dearly
and will carry on our conversation with him.
When your ready, Lady Macbeth.

Act Three, Scene One

MACBETH  

 

To be thus is nothing;
 But to be safely thus. Our fears in Banquo
Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature
Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares;
And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,

He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
To act in safety. There is none but he
Whose being I do fear: and, under him,
My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said,
Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters
When first they put the name of king upon me,
And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like
They hail'd him father to a line of kings:
Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so,
For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind;
For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;
Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
Given to the common enemy of man,
To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!
Rather than so, come fate into the list,

And champion me to th' utterance. 

TRANSLATION

 

To be King is nothing

if i am not safe as the King, Our fear is in Banquo

Stick deep, there is something noble bout him that I fear

He is willing to risk everything thing he has,

his mind is clever and always has a plan

He has wisdom that makes him act bravely and keeps him safe

No one to fear but Banquo

Around him my guardian angel is afriad, just as Mark 

Antony’s angel as it is said was afraid of Caesar.

Banquo neglected the witches when they first put the name King upon me

and asking them to tell him his own future.

Then, like prophets, they named him the father to a line of kings.

On my head they placed a worthless crown

and put a scepter in my hand

That I can not pass on, someone outside my family will take it all away

If this is true, then i've murdered the great King Duncan for Banquo’s sons.

I’ve ruined my happiness for their benefit. I’ve handed over my soul to the devil so that they could be kings. Banquo’s sons!

I will not stand here and watch that happen I will challenge fate to battle and fight to the death.

Act Five, Scene Five

MACBETH

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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 the dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

TRANSLATION

She would have died here soon after
The new would have spread in short time
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Sneaks in at a steady pace day after day
To the word end of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have brought fools
Much closer to their death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a shaded figure, a unfortunate actor
That peacocks his hour on stage
And then silence throughout: it is a story
Told by a joker, full of nioses and emotional unstablement
Meaningless

My Poetry Creations

Cinquain

Bird

Blue White

Flying Chirping Soaring

Watching from the window

Child

Haiku

In the early morning light

Sits a blue jay waking me

Hearing their chirping

Makes me want to sing along

A song without words

Angles call from the tree tops

Nature at its prime

Childs Poem

Yellow Bird

Leads the Heard

Ready to lay

Down by the bay

Dads watch from the sky

Flying oh so very high



Hope by Emily Dickinson - Analysis

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune - - without the words,

And never stops at all,

And Sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me

Analysis 

 Power Words-

Perches in the soul- Perches meaning resting- The thought of hope is resting in her soul, every day, trying to stay strong, praying that hope will bring her a better tomorrow. Staying true to her beliefs.

Sings the tune- - without the words ,Sweetest in the gale is heard-The vioce is powerful, it's kindly unspoken, the vioce with no words, over coming, loud enough you hear that one vioce over the rest- conscience

Sore must be in the storm- Some people make it rain, the gloomly weather represents you're emotional state. This person could be crying, angry, have some kind of negative energy coming their way.

Abash- as in to destroy ones self-confidence, to make one feel like they are unworthly of greatness. Stop them from believing in themself.

Chillest land- High up in the moutain it is cold, cold representing being lonely, feeling no love, love is warm or hot.

Strangest sea- Wide open water symbolizing being so far out of touch with anyone. Just you and you're minds tricks.

Extremity- To feel extreme need or distress.

 Archetypes-

1) Toubled at a young age by thoughts of death

2) Emily shut down her oustide world connections when everyone close to her started dying

3)"That perches in the soul" I believe that this is referring to Emily's own life, in her early years when she was trying to hope for a better tomorrow.

Title -

"Hope"

I think hope is something Emily lacked quite a bit in life. She suffer through many hard time, but never had any faith that they would get better , so in the end things only got worse for her. She couldn't handle the deaths any longer so she shut the outside world down.

Emily Dickinson - Biography

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was known more as a gardener, than as a poet during her lifetime. Emily was born December 10th 1830 and died May 15 1886. She was born and raised in Amherst, Massachusetts. After seven years studying at Amhert Academy she sent a short time at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary. When she returned to the family home in Amherst she lived a mostly quite and lonesome life,who had very few friends and rarely left her room. Instead of going out and meeting her friends, Emily had pen pals. It wasn't until after Emily death when her younger sister published most of her poems.

Emily was born the middle child to Eward Dickinson and Emily Norcross. She was considered to be well educated, very bright and an excellent scholar. She also was a very talented musician. She loved playing the panio. Emily was troubled at this tender young age by the thought of death especialy those who were close to her. In Apirl 1844 Emily was so traumatized by her cousins death. Her parents sent her away to live in Boston to escape her devisation. During this time she met her life long friends, who became her pen pals.

When she was 18, Emily met Benjamin Franklin Newton. Who was a family friend. This relationship with him wasn't romantic but he believed in her writing and knew she had greatness inside. He became her tutor and encouraged her.

In the early 1850 Emily wrote that Amherst was fun in the winter. Very soon after her winter enjoyment, she became deeply depressed at the sudden death of her old school principal. " Some of myfriends are gone, and some of my friends are sleeping, my master has gone to rest." Her state of mind was reflected in some of her poems. As her Mother was slowly dying, Emily felt obligated to take care of her. In 1858 Emily forced her focus on her writing instead of the outside world. She was getting to attached and couldn't handle letting go to those people who fell asleep for the rest of their lives. In the early 1860's Emily had completely let go of her surrounds. This was the most productive writing period for her.

In 1866 Emily sufured more personal lost and she wrote fewer poems as a result. Her behavouir began to change and she did not leave the homestead, unless she had to. When vistors came to her house she wouldn't talk to them face to face should would talk to them through the door, and would leave them gifts of poems and flowers.

In 1872 Dickinson met Otis Phillips Lord. In 1877 after the pass of his wife , Otis became Emily's late life romance. They spent six years together, but in 1864 his time had came. In November 1885 Emily became ill and was put on bed rest. In the spring she was able to send a letter believed to be her last, to her cousins. On May 15 1886 Emily passed aways at the age of 55.

After Emily's death her sister kept her promise and burned the most of the poems. Emily did not say what to do with the notebooks so they were published.
                          - Emily's legacy lives on through her poems.

Act One, Sence Five

LADY MACBETH
The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
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
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!”

Translation
The messenger's voice is cracking
As he informs me the King is soon to arrive
to my castle. Come you spirits
That tends to my unworthy thoughts of evil, take away my womanhood
And fill me from my head to the top of my toe, full
Of my awful sins; make my blood strong
Stop me from regretting what is not a sin,
That the thoughts of my cruelty do not return
Let me do what I set out to do, my conscience is clear
Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for poison, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in the night with out light
You wait on mischief, come heavy in the night,
And suffer in the thick smoke of hell,
That my dagger see not the wound is makes,
Or that heaven lifts up the blanket of evil and see what is being destoryed
To cry 'Stop, stop!'

Act One, Scene Three

MACBETH
(Aside)Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.

(Aside) 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 suggestion
Whose 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.

(Aside) If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me
Without my stir.

(Aside)Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

TRANSLATION

MACBETH:
[Aside.] Those witches told two truths
In the end of these acts the throne shall be mine- I thank you, gentlemen.-

[Aside.] This supernatural meeting
Can’t be bad, only it can’t be good either.
If it’s bad,Why has it given me promise of success,
That began with a truth? I am Lord of Cawdor.
If it’s good, why do I give in to that suggestion
Whose horrid image makes my hair stand on end,
And makes my heart pound it knocks on my ribs as if they were a door
Against my will to stay calm? My current fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder is still only a fantastic idea,
Shakes the man inside of me
Is smothered in truthful assumptions
Nothing is impotant expect what is not true.

[Aside.] If luck wants me to be king, luck may crown me
Without my doing anything at all.

 [Aside.] Let whatever’s going to happen, happen.
Time and happiness can run through the roughest day.