Suspicions indeed have occurred in my absent mind. It does not want to think it, it does not want to comprehend the possibilities. The great chain of our society replay inside my mind and becomes a belief system for me. No one can question it, not even the king. My boy, Fleance had a grand time before the tragedy have occurred to poor Duncan. The sight was paralyzing for my boy and myself.

It is sad to see blood, the blood that we served under, the blood that all was loyal to, have diminished without a warning. I agnize the king's death. The Alderliefest in the whole country. It caused hurlyburly everywhere. Who is the knave of this crime? Could it just be a pageant? I roam with a clear head, filled with nasty conscience that tries to budge in. The prophecies fill me, fill me with desire and suspicion. Could I doubt the power of witchcraft? Is this all meant to happen?

"Knowing causes uncertainty. Knowing everything is knowing nothing."

The witches showed some truth to Macbeth, yet I am affeered. Dare I say, I worry about my son. Dare I ask, wherefore is this happening? Naught, naught, naught! Let my mammering vanish and turn it into mettle. In my deepest desire, I need prophecies to show me some truth about my boy being king. My hopes arise for Fleance and me.

I want path, in order to think. I need to be peculiar and not seem peevish. My dignities to the King and Macbeth will always stay true.

Prithee may my suspicions disappear and not be affectioned.1)

I remain,

Banquo