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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 sweat for’t. [Knocking.] Knock, knock: Who's there, i'the other devil's name 2 "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 2 "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 porter. [Opens the gate.
Enter MAC DU f F and Le Nox.
Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lie so late 2 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 3 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 ?—
Leti. Good-morrow, noble sir!
Macb. Good-morrow, both!
Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
Macb. Not yet.
Macd. He did command me to call timely on him; I have almost slipp'd the hour.
Macb. I'll bring you to him.
Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet, 'tis one.
Macb. The labour we delight in, physicks pain. This is the door.
Macd. I'll make so bold to call,
for 'tis my limited service. [Exit Macduff.
Len. Goes the king
From hence to-day?
Mucb. 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 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.
Macb. 'Twas a rough night.
Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.
Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor
heart, Cannot conceive, nor name thee!
Macb. Len. What's the matter?
Macd. Confusion now hath made his master-piece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o'the building.
Macb. What is't you say? the life?
Len. Mean you his majesty?
Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your
With a new Gorgon :—Do not bid me speak;
V..h •! i Mi t, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights, To countenance this horror! [Bell rings.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady M. What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? speak, speak,
Macd. O, geutle lady,
Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
Our royal master's murder'd!
Lady M. Woe, alas!
What, in our house31?
Ban. Too cruel, any where.'
Dear Duff, 1 pr'ythee, contradict thyself,
Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox.
Macb. 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 mere lees
Enter MA Loo LM and DoN ALBAIN.
Don. What is amiss 2
Macb. You are, and do not know it: The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
Macd. Your royal father's murder'd.
Mal. O, by whom 2
Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem’d, had
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood,
Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
Macd. Wherefore did you so
Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and
Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: