Macbeth: Act Ii Scene Iii

Act II. Scene III.

The Same.

Knocking within. Enter a Porter.

Porter. Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate he should have old turning the key. [Knocking within. ] Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Beelzebub? 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 within. ] 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 within. ] 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 within. ] 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 within. ] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter. [Opens the gate.

Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX. 4

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? 8

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? 12

Enter MACBETH.

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

Len. Good morrow, noble sir.

Macb. Good morrow, both. 16

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. 20

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 physics pain. 24

This is the door.

Macd. I'll make so bold to call,

For 'tis my limited service. [Exit.

Len. Goes the king hence to-day? 28

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, 32

And prophesying 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 36

Was feverous and did shake.

Macb. 'Twas a rough night.

Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel

A fellow to it. 40

Re-Enter MACDUFF.

Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue nor heart

Cannot conceive nor name thee!

Macb. & Len. What's the matter? 44

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! 48

Macb. 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; 52

See, and then speak yourselves. [Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX.

Awake! awake!

Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!

Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! 56

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 sprites, 60

To countenance this horror! Ring the bell. [Bell rings.

Enter LADY MACBETH.

Lady M. What's the business,

That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley 64

The sleepers