These last few months have been sorry ones. The actions you and I have undertaken have played on my conscience, and I am finding it hard to cope. I realise that the path we had chosen was the wrong one, and even though I accepted that from the beginning, the consequences of that choice and the mental anguish that I am experiencing now were unimaginable at the time.
I was pleased when I received your letter telling me of your promotion to Thane of Cawdor. I am sure it was a step that pleased you too. But I'm afraid that my ambition to act on the witches prophecies was to be our downfall. The prospect of you being king was so great that I lost touch with reason. When the idea of murdering the king was put forth I know you were hesitant on acting, but I just had to have my ambition fulfilled. So I pushed you and now I realise that my persistence was not in our best interests, and I'm sorry for it. Perhaps if I had left the decision to your judgement we would have been better off.
What I did I only did for you. For you to be king, how could I for see that we would be worse off. Just the idea that you would be king "would cheer me ever", but I knew I had to push you to fulfill your potential.
But doubt crept into my mind on the fateful night of Duncans murder. I would have done it myself if he had not looked like my father. He was resting so peacefully in the innocence of sleep, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So you had to. Who could have imagined the old man would have had so much blood in him. This blood has stained me forever and I am afraid it has done the same to you. Nothing can remove this blood. Many nights I would wake in cold sweat and my hand would be red from my rubbing. The blood just wont leave me, it haunts me night and day.
But the murder of the Macduff family was just too much. Sometimes I can hear the cries of the women and young children as they...