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