Is this a dagger i see before me The handle toward my hand
Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee Not, and yet i still see thee A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for feaR
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.
