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"Is this dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee."
"Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sight? Or art thou but a dagger of the mind?"
I see thee yet, in form as palpable as this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way I was going; and such an instrument I was to use
"Now o'er the one halfworld nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse the curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecates offerings"
"Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear thy very stones prate of my whereabout"
"Whiles I threat, he lives: words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives."
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