Lady macbeth o proper stuff! this is the very painting of your fear: this is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, led you to duncan. o, these flaws and starts, impostors to true fear, would well become a woman's story at a winter's fire, authorized by her grandam. shame itself! why do you make such faces? when all's done, you look but on a stool. macbeth prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you? why, what care i? if thou canst nod, speak too. if charnel-houses and our graves must send those that we bury back, our monuments shall be the maws of kites. ghost of banquo vanishes (3.4.62-74)