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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,

 Affection makes him false, he speaks not true: Have at thee, coward! A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade Of treasonous malice. Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman Shall e'er have power upon thee.--Then fly, false thanes, Such love must needs be treason in my breast: That very frankly he confess'd his treasons; A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; Of treasonous malice.