Henry Poggi

Zane MacFarlane

Garrett Duncan

5.5.1-52 (Screenplay)

The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength     hold out sword, address audience as soldiers
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
Till famine and the ague eat them up:
Were they not forced with those that should be ours,            Seyton is observing straightfaced
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.

A cry of women within stop, look around, address Seyton

What is that noise?

It is the cry of women, my good lord. Confused, searching look

Exit wander out door

I have almost forgot the taste of fears; to self, monotone-ish voice
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek;

I have supp'd full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me. Look up

Re-enter SEYTON sprinting in, out of breath, shockecd

Wherefore was that cry?

The queen, my lord, is dead. Nervous, slow

She should have died hereafter;            deep breath, cool, uneffected
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,         turn back on Seyton
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         monologue
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.     Go quiet

Enter a Messenger (hunchback) be disgusted

Thy story quickly!

Gracious my lord, bow
I should report that which I say I saw, informative, eyes bulged
But know not how to do it. Confused, dumbfounded

Well, say, sir. impatient

As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, perplexed
The wood began to move. amazed

Liar and slave! Angry

Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Defensive, and sure of what he saw
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove. Amazed and perplexed

If thou speak'st false,    Angry, pointing fingure, look down at the servent, talking to messanger
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,    yell “hang alive”
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in resolution,   talks to himself

'Fear not, till Birnam wood remembering what wiches said, almost in a trance

Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood in despare
Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
I ‘gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. pause
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! Yelling out orders
At least we'll die with harness on our back. Inspiration, looking at the crowd