Come you Spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, & fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direset cruelty! make thick my blood: stop up the access & passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect & it! Come to my woman's breasts, & take my milk for gall, you mudering ministers, wherever in your sightless substance you wait on nature's mischief! Come thick night, & pall thee in the dunnest smoke of Hell, that my keen knife see not the wound it makes, nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, to cry "Hold, Hold!"
- Lady Macbeth's sililoquy by William Shakespeare
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