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Come in time; have napkins enough about you; here you'll sweat for't. [Knocking.] Knock, knock: Who's there, i'the other devils name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale; who committed treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come in, equivocator. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's there? 'Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French hose: Come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose. [Knocking ] Knock, knock: Never at quiet! What are you?-But this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in some of all professions, that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. [Knocking.] Anon, anon; I pray you, remember the por[Opens the gate.

ter.

Enter Macduff and Lenox.

Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,

That you do lie so late?

Port. 'Faith, sir, we were carousing 'till the second cock and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.

Macd. What three things does drink especially provoke?

Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes: it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance: Therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars

him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to: in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. Macd. I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night.

Port. That it did, sir, i'the very throat o'me: But I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. Macd. Is thy master stirring?

Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes.

Enter Macbeth.

Len. Good-morrow, noble sir!

Mac.

Good-morrow, both!

Not yet.

Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane?

Mac.

Mace. He did command me to call timely on him;

I have almost slipp'd the hour.

I'll bring you to him.

Mac.
Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you;

But yet, 'tis one.

Mac. The labour we delight in, physicks pain. This is the door.

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Len. The night has been unruly: Where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down: and, as they say,

Lamentings heard i'the air; strange screams of

death;

And prophecying, with accents terrible,

Of dire combustion, and confus'd events,

New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth Was feverous, and did shake.

Mac.

'Twas a rough night.

Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.

Re-enter Macduff.

Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor

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Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope

The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence

The life o'the building.

Mac.

What is't you say? the life?

Len. Mean you his majesty?

Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your

sight

With a new Gorgon:-Do not bid me speak;

See, and then speak yourselves.-Awake! awake![Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.

Ring the alarum-bell:-Murder! and treason!
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself!-up, up, and see

The great doom's image!--Malcolm! Banquo!

As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights, To countenance this horror!

Enter Lady Macbeth.

[Bell rings.

What's the business,

Lady M.
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak,-

Macd.

O, gentle lady,

'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:

The repetition, in a woman's ear,

Would murder as it fell.——O Banquo! Banquo!

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Re-enter Macbeth and Leno.r.

Mac. Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality:

All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead;

The wine of life is drawn, and the lees

Is left this vault to brag of.

Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.

Don. What is amiss?

Mac.

You are, and do not know it:

The spring, the head, the fountain of your
Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
Macd. Your royal father's murder'd.

Mal.

blood

O, by whom?

Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had

done't:

Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows:

They star'd, and were distracted; no man's life
Was to be trusted with them.

Mac. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
That I did kill them.

Macd.

Wherefore did you so?

Mac. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and

furious,

Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:

The expedition of my violent love

Out-ran the pauser reason.-Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood;
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore: Who could re-
frain,

That had a heart to love, and in that heart

Courage, to make his love known?

Lady M.

Macd. Look to the lady.

Mal.

Help me hence, ho!

Why do we hold our tongues,

That most may claim this argument for ours?

Don. What should be spoken here,

D

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