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."
When he said this, Macbeth was talking to Seyton about Lady Macbeth, who had just been pronounced dead. He noted that she was going to have died sometime anyway, and then went on to lament on how the days seem to blend into one another, creeping by until the end of time. He then threw in the fact that every day brings people closer to their own deaths. Honestly, it's hard to tell if he was being melancholy about his wife or about life in general; he's such a drag sometimes... Anyway, he then compared his late wife's death to that of a candle, which sounds really strange. Maybe he was just being strange, or maybe he was being deep in that parallel - who knows? He mentioned how people have their time in life and then suddenly they are gone, despite all pride and all failures during their life, and that life all in all has no meaning.
Poor Macbeth - he had been through a hard time when he said this, but at the same time, he's a very interesting man and we can't claim to know everything about what goes on in his mind - some people even believe he was hiding something.
What do you think? Do you think he was distressed, unconcerned, or simply in a moment of deep thought?
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