I still have the smell of blood on my hand. All the perfumes of Arabia couldn’t make my little hand smell better. Oh, oh, oh!
What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.
This disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds.
Wash your hands. Put on your nightgown. Look not so pale.—I tell you yet again, Banquo’s buried, he cannot come out on ’s grave. To bed, to bed. There’s knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come. Give me your hand. What’s done cannot be undone.—To bed, to bed, to bed!
Evil rumors are going around. Unnatural acts will cause supernatural things to happen. People with guilty and deranged minds will confess their secrets to their pillows as they sleep. This woman needs a priest more than a doctor.
God forgive us all! Look after her. Remove anything she might hurt herself with. Watch her constantly. And now, good-night. She has bewildered my mind and amazed my eyes. I have an opinion, but I don’t dare to say it out loud.
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