Get on your night gown, left occafion calls us
And fhew us to be watchers :-Be not loft
So poorly in your thoughts.

Macb. To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

[Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou

couldft!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III,

Enter a Porter.

[Knocking within.] Port. Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate he should have old turning the key. [Knock.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's there, i'the name of Belzebub? Here's a farmer that hang'd himself on the expectation of plenty come in time; have napkins enough about you; here you'll fweat for't. [Knock.] Knock, knock: Who's there, i' the other devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could fwear in both the fcales againit either scale; who committed treafon enough for God's fake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: oh, come in, equivocator. [Knock.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's there? Faith, here's an English taylor come hither, for ftealing out of a Frein hofe come in taylor; here you may roaft your goofe. [Knock.] Knock, knock: Never at quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. devil porter it no further: I had thought to let in fome of all profeffions, that go the primrofe way to the everlasting bonfire. [Knock.] Anon, anon; I pray you, remember the porter.

I'll

Enter

Enter MACDUFF, and LENOX.

Macd. Was it fo late, friend, ere you went to That you do lie fo late. [bed, Port. Faith, fir, we were caroufing till the fecond cock: and drink, fir, is a great provoker of three things. Macd. What three things doth drink especially provoke ?

Port. Marry, fir, nofe-painting, fleep, and urine. Lechery, fir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the defire, but it takes away the performance: Therefore, much drink may be faid to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it fets him on, and it takes him off; it perfuades him, and disheartens him; makes him ftand to, and not stand to; in conclufion, 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, fir, 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 fometime, yet I made a fhift to caft him.

Macd. Is thy master stirring?

Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes.
Len. Good-morrow, noble fir!

Enter MACBETH.

Macb. Good-morrow, both!

Macd. Is the king ftirring, worthy thane ?

Macb. Not yet.

Macd. He did command me to call timely on him:

I have almost flipt the hour.

Mach. I'll bring you to him.

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

Bet yet, 'tis one.

Macb. The labour we delight in phyfics pain. This is the door.

Macd. I'll make fo bold to call, For 'tis my limited service.

[Exit MACDUFF Len. Goes the king hence to-day? Macb. He does: he did appoint fo.

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 prophefying, with accents terrible,

Of dire combuftion, and confus'd events,

New hatch'd to the woful time: The obfcure bird
Clamour'd the live-long night : fome say, the earth
Was feverous, and did shake.
Macb. 'Twas a rough night.

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

Re-enter MACDUFF.

Macd.Ohorror! horror! horror! Tongue,nor heart, Cannot conceive, nor name thee !

Macb.

Len.

}

What's the matter?

Macd. Confufion now hath made his masterpie
Moft facrilegious murder hath broke ope

The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o' the building.

Macb. What is't you fay? the life?
Len. Mean you his majefty?

ce!

Mac. Approach the chamber, and deftroy your fight With a new gorgon :-Do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourfelves.-Awake! awake![Exeunt MACBETH, and LENOX.

Ring the alarum-bell:-Murder! and treafon!
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
Shake off this downy fleep, 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!-Ring the bell.

Bell rings. Enter LADY MACBETH.

Lady. What's the business,

That fuch a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The fleepers of the houfe? fpeak, fpeak,-
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!

Enter BANQUO.

Our royal master's murder'd!

Lady. Woe, alas!

What, in our house!

Ban. Too cruel, any where.

Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself,

And fay, it is not fo.

Re-enter MACBETH, and LENOX.

Macb. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a bleffed time; for, from this inftant, There's nothing ferious in mortality:

All is but toys renown, and grace, is dead:
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left this vault to brag of.

Enter MALCOLM, and DONALBAIN.

Don. What is amifs?

C 3

Mach

your blood

Macb. You are, and do not know it:
The fpring, the head, the fountain of
Is topt; the very fource of it is ftopt.
Macd. Your roval father's murder'd.
Mal. Oh! By whom?

(done't?

Len. Thofe of his chamber, as it feem'd, hath 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 trufted with them.

Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,

That I did kill them.

Macd. Wherefore did you fo?

Macb. Who can be wife, amaz'd, temperate, and furious,

Loyal and neutral in a moment? No man ;
The expedition of my violent love

Outran the paufer, reafon.-Here lay Duncan,
His filver fkin lac'd with his golden blood;

And his gafh'd ftabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wafteful entrance: there, the murderers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore: Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make his love known?

Lady. Help me hence, ho!

Macd. Look to the lady.

Mal. Why do we hold our tongues,
That most may claim this argument for ours?
Don. What should be spoken here,

Where our fate, hid within an augre-hole,
May rush and feize us? Let's away, our tears
Are not yet brew'd.

Mal. Nor our ftrong forrow

Upon