Soliloquy #4. Act 2, scene 1.

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 me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecat's off'rings; and wither'd Murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure 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.

A bell rings.

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.

Do I see a dagger in front of me? Its handle is towards my hand. Let me hold it, Im not holding it, but I still see it. Is my vision off, am I able to touch it and see it? Or are you a hallucination of a dagger, from a fevered mind? I see it, as I see my dagger (He's holding his dagger up to the hallucination). You're pointing me the way I was going, and you are what I am going to use ( pointing to Duncan's bedroom, going to kill him with that dagger) 


My eyes are now weak compared to my other senses, if not are as good as the rest of my senses. I see the dagger still, and now on the blade is drenched in blood, which was not there before. There's no such thing. I am seeing what the blade will look like after I kill Duncan.


The world will be half of what it is, nature seems dead, and nightmares waken you from your sleep. Witchcraft will come from the goddess of magic. The wolves will howl an alarm who are keeping watch. Tarquin's enchanting strides towards him, moves like a ghost. I beg that the Earth does not hear my steps, or know where I'm going. I fear that the stones can speak and know where I am, and take the silence in the dead of night. While I'm thinking about killing him, he's alive, speaking of killing him makes me not want to kill him anymore. I'll go to kill him, so it will be done, the bell invites me. Don't hear the bell Duncan, for it is the death bell that will take you to heaven or to hell.