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96

There's blood upon my head: I am accursed.

Good heaven forfend! thou wand'rest in thy speech. Thy life I know is forfeit to the law By some unlawful act, but oh no blood!

O for a short respite! but 'twill not be: I feel my time is near.

Thou wand'rest much: there's something on thy mind, Dark'ning thy fancy.

'Twas I that did it—I that murder'd him: He who must suffer for it did it not.

What words are these? my blood runs cold to hear them.

Be still, be still! there's some one at the door All round me is exposed and insecure.