Temporal Instability, Wildernesses, and the Otherworld in Early Modern Drama

: This article shows how temporal disorder diffuses into the wildernesses within early modern English drama. Those areas beyond the walls of cities and castles in—among other plays— The Two Gentle-men of Verona, Titus Andronicus, Romeo and Juliet, and Macbeth thus ﬂit free from the temporal rules that construct a play’s quotidian world, and the conspicuous partitions that enclose an otherworld in medieval iconography no longer seem clear within them. I argue that these spaces enact an unfamiliar and chaotic ‘otherworld’ within quotidian space, and characters’ ventures into these outer regions at certain points resemble movements into an ‘afterlife’. Journeys into a wilderness, then, parallel a shift from one temporal sphere to another, and characters encounter a post-death state of being within the play’s present.


Introduction
The 'evolution of Christian eschatology in the first centuries of our era', argued Daniel P. Walker, reduced the 'orthodox afterlife' to an 'untidy, evidently botched form' (Walker 1964, p. 34), and Peter Marshall has observed more recently how the 'polemical and strategic requirements of Reformation theology' shed light on 'the beginnings of a process by which hell could become less emphatically 'real" (Marshall 2010, p. 298). But this article shows how those wildernesses, forests, woodlands, and rural landscapes in early modern English drama convey an 'afterlife' that flits free from those vivid pictorial representations of pre-Reformation cosmology, and an extraordinarily diverse range of locations beyond the safeties of the early modern abode conveys vividly to the playgoer a 'hell' closer to home. These spaces flit free from the remits of a play's present, and those individuals who venture into them take their place in an 'afterlife' within the everyday spaces of a play's world.
A meeting with a 'show of eight kings' (IV.i.110.SD) within a wilderness outside the walls of a castle in Macbeth (c. 1606) (Shakespeare 2020d) provides a good example. The ghost of Banquo comes onstage with this group, and their presence onstage unsettles greatly the play's protagonist: For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me And points at them for his. Exeunt kings and Banquo.
(IV.i.110-23.SD) 1 The stage directions that conclude this passage are unsettling, and the '[e]xeunt' (123.SD) of the phantom and his entourage makes ambiguous their movement offstage. Banquo, then, may not exit the stage in a way that we would expect; a possible exit departure offstage may replace a descent beneath the stage, and those wildernesses within the remits of the play's present take the place of that hidden under-stage area to which the apparitions descend earlier in the scene (IV.i.70.SD; IV.i.79.SD) (Stern 2004, pp. 24-25;Power 2011, p. 276). This spectre, then, may not go 'down' (110) to an afterlife below after all.
This unorthodox exit offstage conveys the temporal instability of Macbeth's heathland, and those uncharted landscapes that lurk beyond the portcullises of the castle seem to accommodate entities from an uncertain future. Facets of an infernal otherworld muddle the cosmological geography of the play elsewhere; those cauldrons in hell that await 'those women who besmirch their husbands' honour' in Jean-Baptiste Poquelin's L'Ecole des Femmes (c. 1622) take shape in the vessel that bubbles a 'hell broth' (IV.i.19) within the open expanses of Macbeth's wildernesses (Steinberger 1992, p. 148), and the Harrowing that figures at the gates of hell disseminates into those incessant knocks at the 'south entry' (II.i.37) of the keep (Schreyer 2010).
Aspects of an afterlife bleed into everyday spaces in other dramatological works. Those hidden spaces beneath the 'homely stairs' (V.v.58) of Barabas's dwelling, for instance, contain another cauldron in Christopher Marlowe's The Jew of Malta (c. 1590) (Marlowe 2008b); punishments from an ominous future take shape when Barabas cries for help from within it, and the scene 'visually recapitulates medieval pictures of sinners falling into hell' (Cary 1992, p. 194). And those 'ghosts [that] howl' from within the citadel of Atreus in Seneca's Thyestes take the shape of the 'fearful and confused cries' (II.ii.102), which echo from within those forested regions outside the walls of Rome in Titus Andronicus (c. 1594) (Shakespeare 2020g) (Perry 2019, p. 23); outer regions collapse the partitions that separate traditionally everyday space from an otherworldly counterpart and post-death states of being morph seamlessly into quotidian landscapes.

Hell Mouths and Horror: Distancing the Lands of the Dead
As Alan E. Bernstein has shown, the idea of a spatially separate otherworld elsewhere is not new: those who resided between the Euphrates and the Tigris in the third millennium B.C.E. believed that the dead resided in a faraway place, and the Epic of Gilgamesh spoke about a 'land of the dead at great remove from the human communities of Babylon' (Bernstein 1996, pp. 3-4;Tigray 1982). Another distant space accommodates the late Eurydice in Greek mythology, and her husband Orpheus journeys below to negotiate her release from Hades. But his enterprise does not go well: while the musician charms successfully Hades and his wife-Persephone-with music from his harp, a resurrected Eurydice returns immediately to Hades when Orpheus glances backwards, remaining incarcerated within an otherworld that Orpheus cannot access again (Burkett 1985, p. 195 The stage directions that conclude this passage are unsettling, and the '[e]xeunt' (123.SD) of the phantom and his entourage makes ambiguous their movement offstage. Banquo, then, may not exit the stage in a way that we would expect; a possible exit departure offstage may replace a descent beneath the stage, and those wildernesses within the remits of the play's present take the place of that hidden under-stage area to which the apparitions descend earlier in the scene (IV.i.70.SD; IV.i.79.SD) (Stern 2004, pp. 24-25;Power 2011, p. 276). This spectre, then, may not go 'down' (110) to an afterlife below after all.
This unorthodox exit offstage conveys the temporal instability of Macbeth's heathland, and those uncharted landscapes that lurk beyond the portcullises of the castle seem to accommodate entities from an uncertain future. Facets of an infernal otherworld muddle the cosmological geography of the play elsewhere; those cauldrons in hell that await 'those women who besmirch their husbands' honour' in Jean-Baptiste Poquelin's L'Ecole des Femmes (c. 1622) take shape in the vessel that bubbles a 'hell broth' (IV.i.19) within the open expanses of Macbeth's wildernesses (Steinberger 1992, p. 148), and the Harrowing that figures at the gates of hell disseminates into those incessant knocks at the 'south entry' (II.i.37) of the keep (Schreyer 2010).
Aspects of an afterlife bleed into everyday spaces in other dramatological works. Those hidden spaces beneath the 'homely stairs' (V.v.58) of Barabas's dwelling, for instance, contain another cauldron in Christopher Marlowe's The Jew of Malta (c. 1590) (Marlowe 2008b); punishments from an ominous future take shape when Barabas cries for help from within it, and the scene 'visually recapitulates medieval pictures of sinners falling into hell' (Cary 1992, p. 194). And those 'ghosts [that] howl' from within the citadel of Atreus in Seneca's Thyestes take the shape of the 'fearful and confused cries' (II.ii.102), which echo from within those forested regions outside the walls of Rome in Titus Andronicus (c. 1594) (Shakespeare 2020g) (Perry 2019, p. 23); outer regions collapse the partitions that separate traditionally everyday space from an otherworldly counterpart and postdeath states of being morph seamlessly into quotidian landscapes.

Hell Mouths and Horror: Distancing the Lands of the Dead
As Alan E. Bernstein has shown, the idea of a spatially separate otherworld elsewhere is not new: those who resided between the Euphrates and the Tigris in the third millennium B.C.E. believed that the dead resided in a faraway place, and the Epic of Gilgamesh spoke about a 'land of the dead at great remove from the human communities of Babylon' (Bernstein 1996, pp. 3-4;Tigray 1982). Another distant space accommodates the late Eurydice in Greek mythology, and her husband Orpheus journeys below to negotiate her release from Hades. But his enterprise does not go well: while the musician charms successfully Hades and his wife-Persephone-with music from his harp, a resurrected Eurydice returns immediately to Hades when Orpheus glances backwards, remaining incarcerated within an otherworld that Orpheus cannot access again (Burkett 1985, p. 195). Sheol ‫)תשא|ל(‬ also resists the dictums of a quotidian world in Hebrew traditions, and Scriptural accounts depict this area as a distinct geographical location (Rudman 2001, p. 241). Water, Dominic Rudman observes, figures conspicuously in this landscape; a descent into Sheol invokes 'the image of water closing over the individual', and the tempestuous waters within which these individuals submerge themselves convey the 'absence of order and creation' (Rudman 2001, pp. 243-44).
These underworlds lay behind conspicuous thresholds, which separated them from quotidian space; volcanic craters provided openings to an infernal place thousands of Limbo . . . should be made like a tall square tower surrounded by nets so that through the said nets one can see from the audience the souls who are inside when the Anima Christi has forced his way inside there. But before his coming the said tower shall be provided with black cloth curtains all round which will cover the said nets and prevent [the souls] from being seen until the entrance of the Anima Christi, and then the said curtains shall be cunningly pulled aside on small rings so that the people in the audience can see inside the said tower through the said nets. (Meredith 1992, p. 160) Protestant iconoclasm suppressed 'actual representations of divine mysteries', and 'non-literal conceptions of hell' replaced the explicit imagery that conveyed traditional ideas in medieval theatre (Cary 1992, p. 187). Those partitions that enclosed an underworld remained, however; the floor of the dais shrouded unmarked spaces beneath the stage, which became environments that suggested-but did not directly stage-hellish landscapes, and the trapdoor that led to these hidden areas became an 'entrance to hell' (Stern 2004, p. 25). These obscure areas contained the furies in Thomas Norton and Thomas Sackville's The Tragedie of Gorboduc (c. 1561) and, in Thomas Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy (c. 1592), a maddened Horatio considers those spaces beneath the stage to contain his dead son, Horatio, digging unsuccessfully through the stage floor with his dagger in order to bring his late son to 'show his deadly wounds' .
The floor of the stage obscures another hidden region in Titus Andronicus (c. 1594), and Martius, one of the sons of Titus, discovers the dead body of Bassianus within it, calling up to his brother-Quintus-from below: Martius: Upon his bloody finger he doth wear, A precious ring that lightens all this hole, Which like a taper in some monument Doth shine upon the dead man's earthly cheeks And shows the ragged entrails of this pit. So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus When he did lie bathed in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand-If fear hath made me faint, as me it hath-Out of this foul devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.  The space within which Martius finds himself accommodates the 'misty mouth' (226) of the Cocytus, a river within a classical hell, and a sinister iconography from prior Christian traditions disseminates into his dialogue. Indeed, a 'foul devouring receptacle' (235) ingests the speaker; Martius stands within its 'ragged entrails' (230), and the 'pit' (230) parallels those hell mouths that gormandise the damned soul.
An under-stage space also contains 'darkness and the burning lake' in King Henry VI Part 2 (c. 1596-99) (I.iv.39) (Shakespeare 2020c), and a trapdoor encloses a territory that features in both scriptural and classical conceptions (Shaheen 1989, p. 46). Another inscrutable space beneath the dais receives the apparitions in IV.i of Macbeth; their descents to hidden spaces below seem 'indicative both of their demonic nature and of their access to a form of truth hidden from everyday experience' (Publicover 2018, p. 187), and the floor of the stage perseveres the cosmological concept of a spatially distant afterlife.

'Playing' for Time: The Ghost, the Heath, and Purgatorial Futures in the Present
Facets of a purgatorial landscape also punctuate the speech of the spectre in Shakespeare's Hamlet (c. 1599-1601) (Shakespeare 2020b): Ghost: I am thy father's spirit, Doomed for a certain time to walk the night And for the day confined to fast in fires Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could tell a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each peculiar hair stand on end Like quills upon the fearful porcupine-But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. (I.v.9-22) Old Hamlet speaks about a 'fast in fires' that burn and purge 'the foul crimes done in [his] days of nature ' (11-13), and the dungeon within which prisoners must 'sit in darkness' (Isaiah 42:7) parallels the speaker's residence within his 'prison-house' (14). Those activities that take place within Old Hamlet's purgatory escape the rules and regulations of the play's world, and the recollection of this purgatorial space can 'freeze [Hamlet's] young blood, mak [ing] [his] two eyes . . . start from their spheres ' (16-17).
But how does this spectre enter purgatory? The treacherous activities of Hamlet's uncle, Claudius, bring about the ghost's existence within this landscape, and the latter's sudden death brings about dire consequences: But those 'ever-moving spheres of heaven' (60) do not grant Faustus the time to atone for his prior misdeeds; the scholar pleads in vain for 'but/A year, a month, a natural day' (63-64), since the hour that time otherwise grants him is not enough to 'repent and save his soul' (65). This show of desperation reaches its climax in the final three lines of the passage, and his Latin incantations cannot prevent those 'stars [that] move still': 'time runs', and the 'clock will strike' the fateful hour in which Faustus's damnation commences (67-68).
Time also grants Desdemona the opportunity to pray in Othello (c. 1603) (Shakespeare 2020e), and her pleas for heaven to '[h]ave mercy on [her]' (V.ii.34) resolve 'any crime/Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace ' (V.ii.26-28). Othello, too, enquires whether Desdemona has 'prayed tonight ' (V.ii.25), and the chance to atone for prior misdeeds precludes his murderous intent. But the conversation between man and wife becomes heated as the scene progresses to its climax, and Desdemona's truthful expressions of fidelity seems-to Othello-another show of duplicity, countering the grace that repentance should otherwise provide: The sudden death that unfolds within Macbeth's heathland denies Banquo the time to repent for those 'cursed thoughts that nature/Gives way to repose' (II.i.8-9), which unfold in those moments prior to Duncan's death, and those thoughts that figure in his disposition remain unresolved, exacerbating the horror of his assassination outside the gates of Macbeth's castle: Banquo: Give us a light there, ho! 2. Murderer: Then 'tis he: the rest, That are within the note of expectation, Already are i'th' court.

Murderer:
His horses go about. 3. Murderer: Almost a mile; but he does usually, So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk.Enter BANQUO and FLEANCE, with a torch.

Murderer:
A light, a light.

Banquo:
It will be rain tonight. Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off . . . in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrde O slave! [Dies.]  Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which w ter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines co first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murde Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the tu tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies ti speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 1 other three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's req associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles co conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo be sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subseque strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of th further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), he assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains i and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals w purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sen ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those indivi battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears th is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required t peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut o blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outsid of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfection I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may trav an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within th nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within th the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally with nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wildern Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century ch mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel wi Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's pr meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Car when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assuran Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its loc he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would ter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines constr first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer a Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time f speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, a other three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Ba '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, ho we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles contro conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus rese ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned line but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent tu strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the sit further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, b assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incom and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with b purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense o ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individua battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the bru is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to ma peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'una corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside th of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reck made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' ( I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. I an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e] (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those w nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the re the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inf part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chival mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's presen meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carsonwhen [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance th Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its locatio he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportuni ter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quick first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoke Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrica tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further tu other three follow in the next line, maintaining the breat '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself m we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall with ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banqu The rapid pace within which these activities unfol passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the caus but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, i strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou m assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Ba and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapid battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banq is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally an blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) paralle I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance an
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Ban an exit offstage may replace a descent through a (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatori nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and t the play's present accommodate entities who should res nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within ro part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for examp Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structu meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it iswhen [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he rec Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600 Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, e no sygne of resette bisyde Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which ter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines c first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murd Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line other three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scen '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's re associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature en we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles c conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo b sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape th ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the fina passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turne but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequ strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any se ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those indi battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears t is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', an corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outs of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'n made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfecti I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments o seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may tra an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; th (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within t nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally wit nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions m part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilde Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel w Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's p meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Ca when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assura Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its l he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, nowhere, Bot hy Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, e bonkk Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, e knokled knarre Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would cou ter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct t first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and t Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at ta tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for an speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and a other three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to h associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, howeve we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of t conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by r sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembl ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of t passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 1 but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, t strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situatio further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but t assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomple and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with blood purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of nat ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals wh battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. H is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make h peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in t blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', and 'unanele corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the wa of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckonin made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Ham I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this artic seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indee an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeun (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wilde nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infe nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric r mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within whi Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. Th meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'on when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that t Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location aft he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, with korned stone Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repen ter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; h first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the F Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incom tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed th speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk other three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness o '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Mur associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a pre we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the lan ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures i passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banqu but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo' strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the dis further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst reven assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's lin and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those ind purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-to ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and t battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, howev is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figurati blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappo corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting ab of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterli made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'i I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening m seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's gho an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existenc nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those space the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditio nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance tra part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote A when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the f Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600 Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, which would counter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; half-lines construct the first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the First Murderer and the Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incomplete; the turns at talk tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that denies time for any speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk form line 14, and another three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of the scene. Banquo's '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murderer's request to his associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a premature end, however; we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer wrestles control of the conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that Banquo began by responding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the landscape thus resembles ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in the final line of the passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's turned lines at 16, but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, of Þe scowtes skayned hym Þo Little time, if any, grants Banquo with the opportunity to repent, ter otherwise his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8). The pace quickens, here; ha first line of the passage, and two more half-lines-spoken by the Fir Second Murderer-follow (11). These lines seem metrically incompl tumble over one another, and events unfold onstage at a speed that speaker to complete a full line of verse. Three further turns at talk fo other three follow in the next line, maintaining the breathlessness of '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metrically the First Murd associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at talk itself meets a prem we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and the First Murderer w conversational floor immediately afterwards, finishing a line that B sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that shall fall within the lands ominously the blows that shall fall imminently on Banquo's body.
The rapid pace within which these activities unfold figures in passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the diso further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst reveng assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those indiv purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-tooral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and tho battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay r peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figurative blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappoin corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abus of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'im I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening mo seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor be (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces the play's present accommodate entities who should reside tradition nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance tradi part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-c mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the C Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this p meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote An when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the firs Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no sure he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, non suche in no syde, & selly hym po Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteen mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and t Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of th meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quot when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no s he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, t, Saue a lyttel on a launde, a lawe as hit we[re], A bal Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, ber Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, bi a bonke Þe brymme by-syde, Bi a for nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, of a flode Þat ferked Þere.
(2160-73) 2 [Then he puts the spurs to Gryngolet, and enters on the path. Following the line of a cliff at the edge of a grove, he rode down the rugged slope towards the dale. Then he looked about him, and it seemed to him that there was nothing that resembled a building in the vicinity. There were high and steep slopes on either side, and rough knobbly crags with gnarled stones, and the jutting rocks seemed to him to scrape the skies. Then he paused and held back his horse at that place, and often looked this way and that in search of the chapel. He saw no such chapel, here, and it seemed strange to him. But there was a mound within a clearing, the bulge of a naked hill [barrow] on the slope beside the water's edge by the channel of a [different] stream that ran there.] A rugged and unfriendly landscape greets Gawain, here'; 'ro blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and his 'unho corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.i of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up reside made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) p I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative exi

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Roma
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in seems more ambivalent about those spaces to whic an exit offstage may replace a descent throug (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purg nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, the play's present accommodate entities who shou nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions with part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Ma Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 194 mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for ex Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the st meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that h Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gaw he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, e bonk[s]' enclose a deep 'dale' (2162), while 'ru peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, e knokled knarre peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed', an corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outs of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'n made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfecti I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments o seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may tr an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; t (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally wi nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions m part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wild Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel w Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela C when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assur Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, ' and 'korned stone peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally a blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and his 'unhousele corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24) of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parall I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existenc

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance a
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Ban an exit offstage may replace a descent through a (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgator nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and the play's present accommodate entities who should res nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within ro part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth' Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for examp Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structu meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it iswhen [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he rec Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain se he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, ' (2166), which 'skayn[ed]' the skies, overlook the space from above (2167). The Chapel, moreover, is no-where to be seen; there is 'no sygne of resette bisyde battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the br is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to m peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'un corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside th of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no rec made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the re the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within a nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chiva mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's prese meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its locati he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, ' (2161), and Gawain 'chaung[es] his cher' in search of it (2169), seeing 'non suche' sight (2170).
The Chapel does come into view eventually, however, and the 'bal ral closure. The murder, then, takes place with ala battle onstage fall over the speeches of one an is the one who dies, after all, and his assassi peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and his corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbe of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (I I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgat

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I menti seems more ambivalent about those spaces t an exit offstage may replace a descent (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's the play's present accommodate entities who nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regio part the posthumous Banquo's residence with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymo mance, accommodates an undead adversary Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawai when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600) he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rak Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, ber ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place wit battle onstage fall over the speeches of o is the one who dies, after all, and his as peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banq blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (M of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, take made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed though I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a pu

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spac
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I m seems more ambivalent about those spa an exit offstage may replace a desc (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes pos nesses beyond the walls of the protagon the play's present accommodate entities nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted r part the posthumous Banquo's residence Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anon mance, accommodates an undead adve Gawain must meet his foe shirks free meeting place evades the enquiries of G when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's c Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. he leaves the house of his host, however Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þh Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe s '-which lies on the bank of a 'flode Þat ferked Þere' (2162-63)-resembles the crypt of a holy building. Other facets of a place of worship diffuse conspicuously into this disordered landscape later in the poem: 'Nowe i-wysse', quoÞ Wowayan [Gawain], 'wysty is here; Þis oritore is vgly, with erbe strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the si further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains inco and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense o ral closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individua battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the br is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to m peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'un corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside th of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no rec made ' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the re the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within a nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chiva mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's presen meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its locatio he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, ouer-growen; Wel biseme but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, Þe wy but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's subsequent turn, the strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorder of the situation further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' (17), here, but the assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line remains incomplete, and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individuals with bloody purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-any sense of natural closure.
The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those individuals who battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, bears the brunt. He is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay required to make his peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) 'cut off … in the blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76),and his 'unhouseled,disappointed',and 'unaneled' corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused outside the walls of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife with 'no reckoning made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imperfections' (Hamlet I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening moments of this article, seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost may travel. Indeed, an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below; the '[e]xeunt' (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence within those wildernesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces within the remits of the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally within an infernal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance traditions may inform in part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A wilderness within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-century chivalric romance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Chapel within which Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem's present. This meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Angela Carson-'only when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first assurance that the Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of its location after he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, e wruxled in grene, Dele here his deuocioun on Þe deuele passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear the cause of Banquo's t but something interrupts the rhythm of his speech. And, in Banquo's sub strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' (16) spell out the disorde further. Fleance seems the recipient of the words 'thou mayst revenge' ( assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from his son; Banquo's line rem and the swords of his killers force him to turn towards those individ purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to pieces, cutting short-too-a ral closure. The murder, then, takes place with alarming rapidity, and those battle onstage fall over the speeches of one another. Banquo, however, be is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins deny him the delay requ peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (literally and figuratively) blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet,I.v.76), and his 'unhouseled, disappointed corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, III.iv.24), resting abused of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up residence in an afterlife w made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i.8) parallel those 'imper I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative existence.

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Romance and Drama
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentioned in the opening mome seems more ambivalent about those spaces to which Banquo's ghost ma an exit offstage may replace a descent through a trapdoor below (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a purgatorial existence wit nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's castle, and those spaces wi the play's present accommodate entities who should reside traditionally nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions within romance tradition part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Macbeth's heathland. A w Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous 1940) a fourteenth-cent mance, accommodates an undead adversary, for example, and the Cha Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from the structures of this poem meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, and it is-to quote Ange when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle that he receives the first a Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). Gawain seems no surer of he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, wyse'.  ['It is certain', said Gawain, 'that desolation is here, since this oratory is sinister and overgrown with weeds. It well befits the man in green to deal here his devotion to the devil's ways'.] A sacred space takes the shape of an 'oritore' (2192), and the speaker matches the spaces within which he has found himself to a 'room or building for private worship' (Oxford English Dictionary 2022a, 'oratory, n. 1., a.'). But wild 'erbe '[i]t will be rain tonight', then, completes metr associates to 'stand to't' (15). Banquo's turn at ta we find it difficult to keep up with the pace, and conversational floor immediately afterwards, f sponding to what Banquo said. The rain that sha ominously the blows that shall fall imminently The rapid pace within which these activit passage, too; the Folio text does not make clear but something interrupts the rhythm of his spee strong and consecutive stresses in 'fly, fly, fly' ( further. Fleance seems the recipient of the word assassins wrest Banquo's attention away from h and the swords of his killers force him to turn purpose. These instruments cut Banquo to piece ral closure. The murder, then, takes place with alarm battle onstage fall over the speeches of one anoth is the one who dies, after all, and his assassins peace with God. Like Old Hamlet, Banquo is (l blossoms of his sin' (Hamlet, I.v.76), and his 'un corpse (I.v.77) now lies 'safe in a ditch' (Macbeth, of Macbeth's castle. Banquo, then, takes up res made' (I.v.78), and his 'cursed thoughts' (II.i. I.v.79) that condemn Old Hamlet to a purgative

Outer Regions as Supernatural Spaces in Ro
But the Folio text of Macbeth, as I mentione seems more ambivalent about those spaces to w an exit offstage may replace a descent thr (IV.i.123.SD) of this phantom makes possible a p nesses beyond the walls of the protagonist's cas the play's present accommodate entities who sh nal future.
Those unexplored and uncharted regions part the posthumous Banquo's residence within Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Anonymous mance, accommodates an undead adversary, fo Gawain must meet his foe shirks free from th meeting place evades the enquiries of Gawain, when [Gawain] has come to Bercilak's castle th Chapel is near at hand' (Carson 1963, p. 600). G he leaves the house of his host, however: Þenne gyrdeȝ he to Gryngolet & Þhe rake Schowueȝ in bi schore at a schaȝe syde, ouer-growen' (2191) breach the borders of this sacred space, and Gawain seems to stand in a holy building that is both intact and in ruin.
Another wild and chaotic exterior figures in Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene (c. 1590) (Spenser 1903), and Errour, a creature who resists the structures of a quotidian world, resides within a 'hollowe cave / Amid the thickest woods' (I.i.11): But, full of fire and greedy hardiment, The youthfull Knight could not for ought be staide; But forth unto the darksom hole he went, And looked in: his glistring armour made A little glooming light, much like a shade; By which he saw the ugly monster plaine, Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide, But th'other halfe did womans shape retaine, Most lothsom, filthie, foul, and full of vile disdaine.
(I.i.14) 3 Those who venture into this space seem untethered from the world above, and the Redcrosse Knight, adorned in his 'glistring armour', seems a 'visible but impalpable form of dead person' within it (Oxford English Dictionary 2022b, 'shade, n., 6., a.'). A creature who seems '[h]alfe like a serpent' and half like a woman lies in wait; 'bookes and papers', coupled with 'loathly frogs and toads, which eyes did lacke' (I.i.20) spew from its hideous maw, and the creature may embody vividly Spenser's wider, misogynistic concern about the speech of women. This monster's serpent-like form, argues Alice Leonard, resembles both literally and figuratively a 'fantastical mother tongue', while those books that diffuse from its open mouth convey a 'terrifying alternative for England of Roman Catholic state dominance, with a print culture and scriptural interpretative tradition of its own' (Leonard 2020, p. 103).
Those outer regions within Spenser's work, then, accommodate a 'personification of multilingualism: written, spoken, deformed' (Leonard 2020, p. 103), and those creatures who reside within them resist vividly the structures of everyday space. These disordered areas disseminate into dramatological works, and otherworldly characteristics structure those outer regions beyond the walls of Milan in Shakespeare's The Two Gentlemen of Verona (c. 1589-93) (Shakespeare 2020h): Valentine: And why not death, rather than living torment? To die is to be banished from myself, And Silvia is myself; banished from her In self from self-a deadly banishment. What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? Unless it be to think that she is by And feed on the shadow of her perfection. Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale, Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon. She is my essence, and I leave to be If I be not by her fair influence Fostered, illumined, cherished, kept alive. I fly not death to fly this deadly doom: Tarry I here, but I attend on death, But fly I hence, I fly away from life.  To the speaker, then, a residence in those places beyond the portcullises of Milan seems equivocal to death, and Valentine's stay in these regions facilitates a banishment 'from [h]imself' (171). Those individuals who reside within these areas seem 'away from life' (187), and elements of a quotidian world dissipate within them; the 'music of the nightingale' (179) no longer sounds, and the speaker considers an existence that transcends across natural markers of time. There is, Valentine claims, 'no day for me to look upon' (181), and those spaces to which he must travel escape any conspicuous markers of temporal progression.
These outer landscapes upturn the order of the play elsewhere, and the rules and regulations that structure courtly society within the city collapse within them. The 'overweening slave' (III.i.157), who departs Milan in disgrace, thus ascends in stature over the Duke, the person who banishes him in the first place. Within these anarchic regions, and surrounded by his fellow exiles, Valentine becomes to the Duke 'worthy of an empress' love' (V.iv.139), while the 'degenerate and base behaviour' of Sir Turio-Valentine's rival for Silvia's hand-within these wildernesses contravenes the nobleman's prior position both at court and as the suitor of the Duke's daughter (V.iv.134).
Those forested regions within both Philip Sidney's The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia (c. 1593) and Shakespeare's As You Like It (c. 1599) disseminate disorder, too. And, in Titus Andronicus (Shakespeare 2020h), facets of a classical hell confuse the geography of those wooded regions that lurk outside the walls of Rome: Tamora: Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have 'ticed me hither to this place: A barren detested vale you see it is; The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe; Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven. And when they showed me this abhorred pit, They told me here at dead time of the night A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, Would make such fearful and confused cries As any mortal body hearing it Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told me this hellish tale, But straight they told me they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew And leave me to this horrible death. And then they called me foul adulteress, Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms That ever ear did hear to such effect. (II.ii.91-111) As Curtis Perry has shown, those underworlds within Senecan tragedy diffuse into the wooded landscapes within which these characters find themselves in this play, and the 'secret area that confines an age-old woodland in a deep vale' (Perry 2019, p. 23), which lies deep within the citadel of Atreus in Seneca's Thyestes, parallels the 'barren detested vale' (93). Those 'death gods [that] groan', coupled with the 'ghosts that howl' (Perry 2019, p. 23), likewise take shape as those 'fearful and confused cries' (102), which echo from those expanses that lie outside the walls of the city.
Elements of a classical underworld confuse this landscape elsewhere in the speech, and the threat of incarceration 'unto the body of a dismal yew' (106) may recall those punishments within Kyd's classical hell; the desire of the Goth queen to enact with Aaron, her lover, an erotic embrace 'within a counsel-keeping cave' (II.ii.24-25) butts against the marital bond that otherwise tethers her to Saturninus, and the ugly snakes that restrain those 'wantons' [sexually promiscuous persons] (The Spanish Tragedy, I.i.68) (Kyd 2013) within Tartarus take the shape of the cords that restrain the 'foul adulteress' and '[l]ascivious Goth' (100) within this landscape.
Those sinister outer regions in Titus Andronicus diffuse into Romeo and Juliet (c. 1597) (Shakespeare 2020f), too, and those spaces outside the walls of Verona secrete similar levels of disorder: Romeo: 'Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here, Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Lives here in heaven and may look upon her, But Romeo may not. More validity, More vulnerable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize On the whole of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing on her lips, Who even in pure and vestal modesty Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. But Romeo may not, he is banished. Flies may do this, but from this I must fly; They are free men, but I am banished.
And sayst thou that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me? Banished! O Friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?  Those spaces beyond the walls of Verona deny Romeo a 'heaven' (29), and Juliet sources the paradise within them. Those entities who reside within the walls thus enjoy a state of bliss; mere 'carrion flies' boast 'validity ' (35-37), and Romeo's residence outside the walls of the city deprives him of a 'more honourable state' and 'greater courtship' (33-34). The speaker, then, cannot-as others can-'seize upon the white wonder of Juliet's hand/And steal immortal blessing from her lips' (35-36), and those landscapes to which he must travel constitute his 'hell' (47). The 'damned' reside within them (47), and their howls offer a sinister soundtrack that detaches the speaker from the world to which he has become accustomed.
In many respects, those outer regions in these plays recall Mephistopheles in Doctor Faustus, and those areas that lurk beyond the walls of the city or castle parallel the landscapes that seem situated outside the walls of heaven. A residence within these areas denies Mephistopheles 'everlasting bliss' (I.iii.74), and the study of the scholar forms an everyday space that structures Mephistopheles' 'hell' (I.iii.77) as a consequence. Those climes that lie beyond the 'walls of brass' (I.i.74) in Thomas Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy contain the foul punishments of Tartarus, and activities that resist the order of Pluto's court unfold within them.

Conclusions
To conclude, I would like to return-again-to the peculiar '[e]xeunt' of Banquo's ghost in Macbeth (IV.i.123.SD). For sure, Banquo fulfils the terms of transport to a place of purgation elsewhere. But, in the Folio text, an exit offstage may replace an explicit descent beneath the stage, and an imprint of a future state of being may take up residence within those outer regions of the play's present. The ghost of Banquo, then, seems to persist in the world of the play, and his exit offstage exacerbates the ambiguousness of those landscapes that lie beyond the remits of the play's vernacular world.
In such instances, a border does-to some extent-enclose an 'otherworld'. But the thresholds that guard these spaces come in an extraordinarily diverse array of forms, and the vivid pictorial definitions of medieval iconography diffuse implicitly into areas that lie within the world of a play. Thus, experiences that take place traditionally after death unfold within environments that lie beyond the borders of familiar space; the walls that enclose Macbeth's castle, Verona, and Milan become precarious bulwarks that protect against ambiguous, chaotic, and otherworldly regions just beyond their borders, and those who reside within these regions escape the rules and regulations of a play's present. Those individuals who venture into these uncharted landscapes, then, travel from one kind of temporal sphere to another; an uncertain future unfolds within wildernesses that lie beyond the walls, and 'fantasies [that] apprehend/ More than cool reason ever comprehends' (A Midsummer Night's Dream, I.i.213-14) (Shakespeare 2020a) unfold within them. That is not to say, however, that these outer regions accommodate an afterlife that may no longer be "real" (Marshall 2010, p. 298).
Funding: This research received no external funding.

Conflicts of Interest:
The author declares no conflict of interest.