RALPH: So, anyway. Yeah, we're on the beach—it's not an island, it's just a beach in Mexico—and it's supposed to be deserted, and suddenly, all these donkeys are coming by, just donkeys everywhere—

LADY MACBETH: Where's my husband? Do you think maybe we should send somebody to go find him? 

RALPH: Okay. We could have somebody check on him. Can we do that, Greg? 

LADY MACBETH: Do you know if Banquo's left? 

RALPH: I'm sorry? 

LADY MACBETH: Has Banquo left the court? 

RALPH: Oh, to ride his horse you mean. Yes, but he's coming back tonight. Why do you ask? 

LADY MACBETH: Actually, if it's okay, I'd like to have a word with my husband when he gets back. 

RALPH: Oh, yeah, of course. If you don't mind me saying this, he seems a little troubled lately. 

LADY MACBETH: Right? It's so frustrating. We risked everything to have nothing. 

RALPH: Nought's had, all's spent, as you put it. 

LADY MACBETH: Exactly. 

RALPH: But what do you mean you have nothing? You're king and queen now. It's everything you wanted, maybe everything anybody could ever want. 

LADY MACBETH: But we're not happy yet. I mean, you've seen my husband. Believe me, he's more than just a little troubled. How can you get everything you want and then not be happy? It doesn't make sense. Isn't that what happiness is? When you get everything you want? 

RALPH: Well. 

LADY MACBETH: 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. I mean, if things are going to be like this, it would be better to be the thing that you destroy. 

RALPH: Well, that's quite a different way of looking at things. I mean, to be more specific, it sounds like you're saying that it would be better to be Duncan, dead in the grave, than to be where you are now, which is not very much fun, and also to have gotten there by killing somebody. So if I could just follow this one thought further, is there any way that you could have seen this coming, before the destroying part? 

LADY MACBETH: Oh, there he is. How are you doing, my lord? 

RALPH: Welcome to the show, your highness. 

LADY MACBETH: I'm worried about you. You spend so much time by yourself and with only your sad thoughts for company. And you spend too much time thinking thoughts that should have died with the person you're thinking about. Don't think about things you can't change. What's done is done. 

MACBETH: We've cut the snake, not killed it. She'll heal herself and then attack again. 

RALPH: What does the snake refer to exactly? 

MACBETH: You know, I'd rather have heaven and earth break apart then eat one more meal in fear, or suffer one more night of these terrible dreams that we've been having. 

RALPH: Terrible dreams? So have you both been having them? Or was that the royal we? 

MACBETH: Are you even listening to what I'm saying? It would be better to be with the dead than to live with a tortured mind. Duncan is in his grave. After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well. Treason did its worst to him. He's dead, and now nothing can touch him—not steal, or poison, or traitors, or invasions. Nothing can touch him further. 

LADY MACBETH: Okay. Honey, you need to start to calm down. We're hosting a party tonight, remember? You need to be bright and jovial amongst your guests. 

MACBETH: I will, love, and so should you. And we need to pay special attention to Banquo. As long as we're in danger, we must flatter him and hide our true hearts. 

LADY MACBETH: You need to stop thinking about that. 

MACBETH: My mind is full of scorpions. Do you know that Banquo and his Fleance still live? 

LADY MACBETH: Yes, but it's not like they're going to live forever. 

MACBETH: Exactly. They're vulnerable. 

RALPH: Wait, is that what you meant by them not living forever? Didn't you just mean that everybody dies someday? 

MACBETH: So we can cheer up. Before the bats fly tonight, there shall be done a deed of dreadful note. 

LADY MACBETH: What are you talking about? 

MACBETH: It's better you don't know the details until you applaud the deed when it's done. 

RALPH: Does this have something to do with the—

MACBETH: Come, seeling night, scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day and with thy bloody and invisible hand cancel and tear to pieces that great bond which keeps me pale. 

RALPH: I'm sorry. Great bond? What great—

MACBETH: Light thickens, and the crow makes wing to the rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, while night's black agents to their preys do rouse. You don't understand what I'm talking about, do you? 

RALPH: I don't. Was that a spell or something? It reminds me a little bit of you, actually. 

MACBETH: But hold thee still. Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. 

RALPH: That sounded good, like a little poem. But could you say it one more time? 

MACBETH: Sure. Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. 

RALPH: So you mean, if you do a bad thing you could make that bad thing better by doing more bad things? 

MACBETH: Yeah, pretty much. 

RALPH: Are you sure about that? We have this saying where I'm from, two wrongs don't make a right. 

MACBETH: What about three wrongs? Have you ever thought about that? 

RALPH: I just don't think that's how it works. 

MACBETH: Watch and learn, Ralph, watch and learn. We better get going. 

RALPH: Okay. But I'll be watching, and learning. Enjoy your party.