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Macbeth
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?
Why did Macbeth Kill Duncan?
How did Macbeth feel afterward?
Macbeth
Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present,
Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
Than pity for mischance.
Guilt: a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.
Paranoia: the baseless or excessive suspicion of the motives of others, ultimately leading to aggressive acts believed to be performed in self-defense.
Puneet Gill
Macbeth
Methought I heard a voice cry, `Sleep no more:
Macbeth does murder sleep’, the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleeve of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast
Out, damned spot! Out, I say! One, two. Why then 'tis
time to do't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier,
and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when
none can call our power to account? Yet who would
have thought the old man to have had so much blood in
him?