Macbeth, what will it profit you? To take a man's life to profit your own? What is the worth of a soul? To send a man back to the origin of life, to carry on the wretchedness that persists here!
Macbeth, what will it profit you to cease the breath and darken the lights in one's eyes for short lived power. Oh you vile creature, there is more to life than the acquisition of the intangible, unattainable power that you seek. Power passes between your fingers just like wind, you can hold on to is just as time and you cannot hold it for long, just like breath.
