Macb. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.[Exit Servant. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee: I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind: a false creation, Proceeding from the heat oppressed brain? As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost.-Thou sure and firm set earth, Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. [A bell rings. I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. SCENE II.-The same. Enter LADY MACBETH. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold: What hath quenched them, hath given me fire. Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shrieked; the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it: The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugged their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die. Macb. [within.] Who's there? what, ho! Lady M. Alack! I am afraid they have awaked, And 't is not done:-the attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss them.-Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done 't.-My husband? Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast;" Lady M. What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house: "Glamis hath murdered sleep; and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more!" Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think They must lie there: go, carry them, and smear Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnardine, Re-enter Lady MACBETH. Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then? Your constancy Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, Macb. To know my deed, 't were best not know Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst ! [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The same. 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. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock. Who's there, i' the name of Belzebub? Here's a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty Come in time; have napkins enough about you; here you 'll sweat for 't. [Knocking.] Knock, knock: who's there i' the other devil's 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 primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. [Knocking.] Anon, anon; I pray you, remember the porter. [Opens the gate. the 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 awaked him; here he comes. Enter МАСВЕТН. Len. Good-morrow, noble sir. Good-morrow, both. Macd. I'll make so bold to call, For 't is my limited service. [Exit MACDUFF. Len. Goes the King hence to day? Macb. He does: he did appoint so. 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 prophesying, with accents terrible, Ban. Too cruel, anywhere. Dear Duff, I pr'y thee, contradict thyself, · Re-enter MACBETH and LENOX. Macb. Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys renown and grace is dead; Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN. You are, and do not know it: Len. Those of his chamber, as it seemed, had Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man : Outran the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Lady M. [Bell rings. Mal. Lady M. What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? speak, speak. Help me hence, ho! Macd. Look to the lady. Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? Don. What should be spoken here, Where our fate, hid in an augre-hole, [Exeunt all but MALCOLM and DONALBAIN. Mal. What will you do? Let's not consort with them: To shew an unfelt sorrow, is an office Mal. 'Gainst nature still: Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up Thine own life's means!-Then 't is most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. Macd. He is already named; and gone to Scone To be invested. Rosse. Where is Duncan's body? The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, Rosse. Will you to Scone? Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! Rosse. Farewell, father. Old M. God's benison go with you; and with those That would make good of bad, and friends of foes. [Exeunt. |