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Scene V] Macbeth 113 

Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, 
Cannot once start me. 

Re-enter Seyton 

Wherefore was that cry? 

Seyton. The queen, my lord, is dead. 

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, 20 

To the last syllable of recorded time ; 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! 
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage 
And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing. 

Enter a Messenger 

Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. 

Messenger. Gracious my lord, 30 

I should report that which I say I saw, 
But know not how to do it. 

Macbeth. Well, say, sir. 

Messenger. As I did stand my watch upon the 
hill, 

24. In what play that you have read does Shakespeare 
use a similar figure?