Two roads diverged in Birnham Wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Macbeth was wavering; he thought about killing King Duncan as soon as he was tempted by the witches upon his first meeting with them. Then he decided that maybe he shouldn't do anything. Then he talked to Lady Macbeth, and she did her best to convince him to carry out the murder. He told her that he'd talk about it later. Finally, while the King is at dinner, he tells his wife (Act 1, scene 7):
We will proceed no further in this business:
He hath honor'd me of late, and I have bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.
Here he is facing two diverging roads. He is ready to take a road of peace, one of "If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me Without my stir."
Then Lady Macbeth rips into him, chastises him, demeans him, and eventually gets him to take the other road, the road of murder, and guilt, and more murder, paranoia, madness and death.
And what of the road not taken, the road of not stirring, of just living life out and seeing where it takes him? Well, Macbeth, like Frost, "knowing how way leads on to way," will never get the chance to know where that road would have taken him.
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