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Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
Or art thou but a dagger of the mind, a false creation proceeding from the heat-opresséd brain?
I see thee still, and, on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood, which was not so before.
Thou [sure] and firm-set earth, hear not my steps, which [way they] walk, for fear and take the present horror from the time, which now suits with it.
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.
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