My beloved Macbeth,

The first 200 words of this essay...

My beloved Macbeth,

I can barely write as unrighteous tears cloud my eyes and blur my vision.

Oh, my love, how I have battled

with my conscience and how my words 'our deeds must not be thought of ' come

back to haunt me. Screams in my

head paralyse my sleep and torture my wake. I can no longer live for fear of

the truth being shared.

Ever since I received that fateful letter I began plotting how we could

speed our path to power .I should

have let fate take its course instead of trying to take fate into my own

hands. If I had done that then maybe the smell

of Duncan's blood would disappear and perhaps I would not be writing this,

my final letter.

I remember the time when we were a young happy couple, so much in love, so

much to live for. How long

ago this all seems now. I wish we could return to that happiness, but it is

all too late. I have ruined everything you

worked so