Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top full
Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it!

He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision--he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath: The horror! The horror!