And
his gasht stabs lookt like a breach in nature
For
ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
Steept
in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly
breecht with gore:
-Macbeth
Who
can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
Loyal
and neutral, in a moment? No man:
The
expedition of my violent love
Outrun
the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
His
silver skin laced with his golden blood;
And
his gasht stabs lookt like a breach in nature
For
ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
Steept
in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly
breecht with gore: who could refrain,
That
had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage
to make’s love known?
I find the imagery of Duncan beyond interesting. His silver skin laced with his golden blood;/And his gasht stabs lookt like a breach in nature/For ruin’s wasteful entrance: Wow. What do you make of that? Read those three lines again. That’s um, that’s pure Will. I love that use of language. I guess some might say it’s over the top, but I don’t think so. I think it’s absolutely extraordinary.
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