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MACBETH (to the SERVANT) Go and tell your mistress to strike the bell when my drink is ready. Get yourself to bed. The SERVANT exits.
Is this a dagger I see in front of me, with its handle pointing toward my hand? (to the dagger) Come, let me hold you. (he grabs at the air in front of him without touching anything) I don’t have you but I can still see you. Fateful apparition, isn’t it possible to touch you as well as see you? Or are you nothing more than a dagger created by the mind, a hallucination from my fevered brain? I can still see you, and you look as real as this other dagger that I’m pulling out now
There’s no dagger here. It’s the murder I’m about to do that’s making me think I see one. Now half the world is asleep and being deceived by evil nightmares. Witches are offering sacrifices to their goddess Hecate. Old man murder, having been roused by the howls of his wolf, walks silently to his destination, moving like Tarquin
Hard ground, don’t listen to the direction of my steps. I don’t want you to echo back where I am and break the terrible stillness of this moment, a silence that is so appropriate for what I’m about to do. While I stay here talking, Duncan lives. The more I talk, the more my courage cools.
I’m going now. The murder is as good as done. The bell is telling me to do it. Don’t listen to the bell, Duncan, because it summons you either to heaven or to hell.
Enters Lady Mcbeth
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