The interior of a London flat. It looks smashed up, with a bit of smoke coming in from the hallway. There is a very old desk near the middle of the stage, with a broken leg, and a huge split in the middle. Papers are strewn all around on the ground around it, and there’s a journal in front of it. RYAN enters, looking distraught, angry, and slightly unkempt. He walks with a noticeable limp. He paces as he talks
RYAN- Caesar was gold, Kilpatrick was bronze, and I’m stone. Am I stone? Or am I them? Am I just another step in the long line of Caesar? Am I not my own person, with my own unique traits? Am I just another vessel for a soul that’s not my own? Is nothing I say original, just remembered? AM I NOT ME!?
RYAN picks up a book and throws it across the room; thinking about how childish he’s acting, he stops and calms himself down. RYAN then walks over to his desk.
Great. Everything’s in disarray. My notes are out of order, and ink’s all over my draft. (Ryan sighs.) I can probably salvage some of- What’s this?
RYAN notices the journal lying in the notes.
“The Journal of Fergus Kilpatrick, 1824.”
He opens the book to march entries.
“March 10- Today a man dressed in rags approached me; he spoke to me, but not with reason. He was touched with a fever of the mind, and the words he spoke were strange.
‘Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
Those in commission yet returned?
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die, who did report
That very frankly he confessed his treasons,
implored your Highness Pardon, and set forth
A deep repentance. Nothing in his life
Became him like leaving it. He died
As one that had been studied in his death
To throw away the dearest thing he owed
As ‘twere a careless trifle.
There’s no art
To find the mind’s construction in the face.
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.’
“The man then wandered off. After a few moments thought, I recognized the lines as coming from Macbeth, which my companion James Nolan had recently translated into Gaelic.”
Ryan stops a moment, and puzzles over the next few lines.
“Must the others torment me so? Must they remind me of my past and my fate?” Pause.
What the devil does that mean?