I write to thee, mine fore beloved Macbeth,

Mine husband, mine Lord, now mine most royal King.

Hither I sit, pondering where the noble man I married hath fled

I know thee not, not now, not ever again.

I loved thee like a burning fire of passionate admiration,

Yet mine love hath waned into a wisp of smoke.

Once my Lord called me thy dearest partner in greatness;

Mine memory of this hath faded to a dream of a dream,

Faded like the heroic Thane thee once were,

Faded like the pride I once possessed.

That fateful night at Dunsinane Castle so much was lost

Duncan’s honourable life, at our foul hands;

And mine life too did end, and my Hellish torture did begin.

‘Tis the death of mine soul I speak of,

Now thee reads mine words mine corporal agents hath joined it.

I strived to be strong for thee, I bared the cumbersome guilt

Yet mine shoulders art too weak for this weight.

I hath abused and dissembled righteous men far too long.

I did this for my Lord, to protect thy costly Kingship, but in vain

For thou art not a King, but a fiendish monster.

Thee had noble Banquo brutally slain without a word to me

Thy comrade, thy friend, an innocent man!

The Witches’ prophecy is ruling thy life, making thy settlings.

What hath happened to thee, my Lord?

Thee hath visited the Weird Sisters again I expect

Thee listens more to them than to thy forgotten wife.

Was’t those unearthly women who telleth thee to commit more evils?

Lennox did telleth me of the Macduffs’ fate.

Mine companion Lady Macduff, another in Heaven by thy sword!

Her fair babes, pictures of innocence, slain mercilessly by thy murtherers!

How can thy stand it? Are thee so inhumane, so wooden-hearted?

If mine shame is great, yours should unfathomable be.

I recall the night of the feast, when thee did see things untrue

The mangled, bloody face of Banquo appeared to thee.

I thought thy strength of mind was failing,

I seeked to share mine might with thee,

But alas ‘twas mine which decayed, the guilt is devouring mine soul.

Duncan’s bloody face doth haunt me endlessly,

His unearthly deadened eyes doth stare at me every sleepless night,

I see and feel blood, swimming crimson pools in thy palms.

The blood, my shame, the illness of my mind,

None will diminish, as much as I plead and pray.

Although thee hath done foul deeds, ‘tis I who is to blame.

‘Twas I who invegled thee to dispatch Duncan,

‘Tis I who awoke the sleeping evil within thee.

If it were not for I, thy evil would not be astir and reeking havoc.

Perhaps mine death can right it all, I know not.

Or perchance the forthcoming battle shalt settle all,

If there is any justice in this world of misery, pain and torture

Thee shalt meet a horrid end like piteous Duncan

Although thee shalt not go to the kingdom of angels

We shall rot in Hell, united once more under bloody circumstances

For our crimes art too great for forgiveness, My Lord.

Our souls possess flaws that art beyond restoration.

My end hath come, thy end is nigh.

Thy wife.