Act Two, Scene One

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 Hecate's offerings; 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.

TRANSLATION

 Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle pointed toward my hand? Come, let me hold you.
I don’t hold you, and yet I still see you!

Is it possible,fatal vision, to touch

as to see you? Or are you only
A dagger of the mind, mind trick, I see what I need to kill
I still see you, you look so real like the dagger I can pull out now.
You lead me on the way i was already going,
And show me the instrument I was to use.
Are my eyes seeing correct? I still see you,
And I see great amount of blood on your blade,
Which were not there before. This is make believe.
It is the thought to kill that makes me see you.

 Now, half the world is asleep , some may not awaken in the morn

They have nightmares of their death,  Now witches celebrate
Offerings to the Hecate. And old man murder,
awakened by the sound of his friend the wolf,

Who howls to announce hes watching, then with his sneeky pace

like Targuin, as quiet as a ghost. Solid ground.

Don't listen to my footsteps, or the way I walk

For fear that this floor will echo where I am,

and take them still while sleeping

something that is so suitable for what I am about to do.

While I am still talking the King is still breathing

The more I continue talking the less ability I have to murder him

I am here and it is as good has done, the ringing is inviting me

Do not listen to the bell Duncan, for it is chosing you

Heaven or hell