Lady MacDuff and Son meet their end.
Lady Macduff: Oh, my dear son, your father's dead [to us]!
What will you do? How will you live?
Son: Free as a bird, Mom. [Like a hen, or a wren.]
Lady Macduff: What? You'll live with worms and flies?
Son: No. I'll eat worms and then fly as they do.
You know, Carpe Diem! Live for the day.
Lady Macduff: Poor child! Like a bird, you have no fear of nets, lime, pits or traps.
Son: Why should I, Mom?
Those traps are meant for animals, not set for birds that fly.
Besides, I know my father is not dead, no matter what you say.
He lives as you and I.
Lady Macduff: He most certainly is dead!
So, what will you do for a father?
Son: A better question: what will you do for a husband?
Lady Macduff: No problem. Just like any cousin, husbands come a dime a dozen.
Son: Then you can buy and sell 'em at will, whatever you feel, whatever the thrill.
Lady Macduff: Smart little twerp, aren't you? You bring me so much joy
for being so witty for such a little boy.
Son: Was my father a traitor, Mom?
Lady Macduff: In a sense, he was a traitor to us.
Son: What's a traitor, anyway?
Lady Macduff: Someone who swears and lies.
Son: So, anyone who swears and lies is a traitor?
Lady Macduff: Every one of them who are traitors should be hanged.
Son: Then, every one who swears and lies should be hanged?
Lady Macduff: Yep. Every single one of them.
Son: Who is left to hang them?
Lady Macduff: Those who are honest should hang them.
Son: Then liars and swearers are fools to let that happen to them.
There are far more liars and swearers than there are honest men.
By my calculations, all of the honest men are far outnumbered
and should themselves be hanged by the hordes of liars. Right?
Lady Macduff: Well I'll be hanged! You are a bright and sassy lad.
Back to the original question. What will you do for a father?
Son: Well, I look at it this way: if my father were really dead, you'd be crying.
You're not; so, he's not dead.
But, even if he were dead and you were not crying,
that could mean you have someone already lined up
in the wings and I'd have a new father anyway. So, no problem. Right?
Lady Macduff: Yeah, right! Sometimes the things you say really kill me.
We could both die laughing.
[A messenger comes rushing in.]
Messenger: Excuse me! You don't know me, but I know you well.
I can't be sure, but something tells me, rings a bell,
that danger might be hangin' around, like bats from hell.
Maybe so, maybe not; but, if I were you, I'd get outta here.
It could be nothing, maybe more, or worse, I fear.
Something tells me someone nasty's coming near.
I warned you well; it is no lie.
If I stay more, I, too, will die.
[Messenger races off faster than when he entered.]
Lady Macduff: Where shall I fly? I've done no harm to anyone.
Oh, I do forget.
I am on earth, a vicious world where good and bad are set
against each other and sometimes good will win the upper hand;
but, much more often, evil forces rule the sky, the sea, and land.
[I read a play last week, I think, something by a new writer.
One of the characters, Antony, said something appropriate:
The evil that men do lives after them;
the good is oft interred with their bones;]
Sometimes, crime pays and well.
Furthermore, I am a woman, fair of form and face.
To say I've done no harm is no disgrace.
But wait! What are these faces by the gate?
[More hit men break in, maybe even the same ones.]
First Hit Man: Okay, Lady, where's yer old man?
Lady Macduff: If he's anywhere, it's nowhere where the likes of you could be found.
First Hit Man: He's a traitor.
Son: Liar! Hairy creep! Rotten scum! Just turn around --
Second Hit man: Well, well! Jus' looky 'ere. Da small fry. Maybe ah'll 'ave one over easy.
[Stabs the boy and kills him.] Thar ya go, ya little blow. Da yolks on you.
Ha, ha! Whatta job fer a shish kabob.
Son: Mom, run. (Gasp!) I'm (gasp) dead. See the blood, all red? (Gasp!) I'm dead alread--
[ Son dies already. Lady Macduff runs away pursued by the hit men. Presumably, they got her, too.]
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 1013 times
Written on 2007-01-21 at 06:30
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Macbeth, Act IV, sc. ii, Lady MacDuff and Son Meet the Mob
Lady Macduff: Oh, my dear son, your father's dead [to us]!
What will you do? How will you live?
Son: Free as a bird, Mom. [Like a hen, or a wren.]
Lady Macduff: What? You'll live with worms and flies?
Son: No. I'll eat worms and then fly as they do.
You know, Carpe Diem! Live for the day.
Lady Macduff: Poor child! Like a bird, you have no fear of nets, lime, pits or traps.
Son: Why should I, Mom?
Those traps are meant for animals, not set for birds that fly.
Besides, I know my father is not dead, no matter what you say.
He lives as you and I.
Lady Macduff: He most certainly is dead!
So, what will you do for a father?
Son: A better question: what will you do for a husband?
Lady Macduff: No problem. Just like any cousin, husbands come a dime a dozen.
Son: Then you can buy and sell 'em at will, whatever you feel, whatever the thrill.
Lady Macduff: Smart little twerp, aren't you? You bring me so much joy
for being so witty for such a little boy.
Son: Was my father a traitor, Mom?
Lady Macduff: In a sense, he was a traitor to us.
Son: What's a traitor, anyway?
Lady Macduff: Someone who swears and lies.
Son: So, anyone who swears and lies is a traitor?
Lady Macduff: Every one of them who are traitors should be hanged.
Son: Then, every one who swears and lies should be hanged?
Lady Macduff: Yep. Every single one of them.
Son: Who is left to hang them?
Lady Macduff: Those who are honest should hang them.
Son: Then liars and swearers are fools to let that happen to them.
There are far more liars and swearers than there are honest men.
By my calculations, all of the honest men are far outnumbered
and should themselves be hanged by the hordes of liars. Right?
Lady Macduff: Well I'll be hanged! You are a bright and sassy lad.
Back to the original question. What will you do for a father?
Son: Well, I look at it this way: if my father were really dead, you'd be crying.
You're not; so, he's not dead.
But, even if he were dead and you were not crying,
that could mean you have someone already lined up
in the wings and I'd have a new father anyway. So, no problem. Right?
Lady Macduff: Yeah, right! Sometimes the things you say really kill me.
We could both die laughing.
[A messenger comes rushing in.]
Messenger: Excuse me! You don't know me, but I know you well.
I can't be sure, but something tells me, rings a bell,
that danger might be hangin' around, like bats from hell.
Maybe so, maybe not; but, if I were you, I'd get outta here.
It could be nothing, maybe more, or worse, I fear.
Something tells me someone nasty's coming near.
I warned you well; it is no lie.
If I stay more, I, too, will die.
[Messenger races off faster than when he entered.]
Lady Macduff: Where shall I fly? I've done no harm to anyone.
Oh, I do forget.
I am on earth, a vicious world where good and bad are set
against each other and sometimes good will win the upper hand;
but, much more often, evil forces rule the sky, the sea, and land.
[I read a play last week, I think, something by a new writer.
One of the characters, Antony, said something appropriate:
The evil that men do lives after them;
the good is oft interred with their bones;]
Sometimes, crime pays and well.
Furthermore, I am a woman, fair of form and face.
To say I've done no harm is no disgrace.
But wait! What are these faces by the gate?
[More hit men break in, maybe even the same ones.]
First Hit Man: Okay, Lady, where's yer old man?
Lady Macduff: If he's anywhere, it's nowhere where the likes of you could be found.
First Hit Man: He's a traitor.
Son: Liar! Hairy creep! Rotten scum! Just turn around --
Second Hit man: Well, well! Jus' looky 'ere. Da small fry. Maybe ah'll 'ave one over easy.
[Stabs the boy and kills him.] Thar ya go, ya little blow. Da yolks on you.
Ha, ha! Whatta job fer a shish kabob.
Son: Mom, run. (Gasp!) I'm (gasp) dead. See the blood, all red? (Gasp!) I'm dead alread--
[ Son dies already. Lady Macduff runs away pursued by the hit men. Presumably, they got her, too.]
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 1013 times
Written on 2007-01-21 at 06:30
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
