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Washing Imaginary
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?
mind is full of guilt and fear
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Nothing can clean this hand
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
guilt of imaginary blood Lady Macbeth loses sanity
Out, damned spot! out, I say!
Macbeth imaginary dagger after death of Duncan
Is this a dagger I see before me, the handle before my hand?
rather be dead than deal with the pain and guilt of his actions
Better be with the dead... than on the torture of the mind to lie in restless ecstasy.
No reason other then ambition to kill Duncan (TYRANNY)
I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting ambition...
change my sex (TYRANNY)
Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here