NORTH.
Ay—Seward—even so. He tells you that he stakes soul and body upon the throw for a Crown. He has got the Crown—and paid for it. He must keep it—else he has bartered soul and body—for nothing! To make his first crime good—he strides gigantically along the road of which it opened the gate.
TALBOYS.
An almost morbid impressibility of imagination is energetically stamped, and universally recognised in the Thane, and I think, sir, that it warrants, to a certain extent, a sincerity of the mental movements. He really sees a fantastical dagger—he really hears fantastical voices—perhaps he really sees a fantastical Ghost. All this in him is Nature—not artifice—and a nature deeply, terribly, tempestuously commoved by the near contact of a murder imminent—doing—done. It is more like a murderer a-making than a murderer made.
SEWARD.
See, sir, how precisely this characteristic is proposed.
BULLER.
By whom?
SEWARD.