Macbeth 독백

MACBETH

     She should have died hereafter.

There would have been a time for such a word.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

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.

(Modern English Version)

                                              

She would have died later anyway. That news was bound to come someday. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

The days creep slowly along until the end of time. And every day that’s already happened has taken fools that much

closer to their deaths. Out, out, brief candle. Life is nothing more than an illusion. It’s like a poor actor who struts and

worries for his hour on the stage and then is never heard from again. Life is a story told by an idiot, full of noise and

emotional disturbance but devoid of meaning.