Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee- I have thee not, and yet I see thee still! Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall’st the …showed first 75 words of 269 total…

…showed last 75 words of 269 total…and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout And take the present horror from the time Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives. Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. I go, and it is done, the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven, or to hell