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“ How is’t with me, when every noise appals me?
What hands are here? hah! they pluck out mine eges.
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand ? No, this my hand will rather *
Make the green ocean red.

Enter Lady Vacbeth. Lady. “ My hands are of your colour ; but I shame • To wear a heart fo white; I hear a knocking [Knock. At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber; “ A little water clears us of this deed. “ How easy is it then? your constancy Hath left you unattended-Hark, more knocking !

[Knock. Get on your night-gown, left occafion call us, " And shew us to be watchers ; be not loft 66 So poorly in your thoughts.

Macb. To know my deed, 'twere beft not know myself. Wake, Duncan, with this knocking : 'would thou couldftt?

[Exeunt, SCENE

hand will rather Thy multitudinous fea incarnadine, Miking the green une red -

Enter Lidy, &c. †

'would thou couldn !

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. 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. (Knocko] Knock, knock, knock. Who's there, i'th' name of Belzebub ? here's a farmer that hang'd himself in the expectation of plerty: come in time, have napkins enough about you, here you'll sweat for't. (Knock.) Knock, knock. Who's there, i' th other devil's name?

Faith, here's an equivocatur, that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who comniicted treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heav'nı : oh, come in, equivocator. (Knock.) 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. [Knock.] Knock, knock. Never at quiet! what are you ? but this place is too cold for hell

. l'll devil-porter it no further : I had thought to have let in some of all professions, that go the primrose way to th' everlasting bonfire. (Knoiko] Anon, anon, I pray you, remember the porter.

Enter

SCENE IV.
Enter Macduff, Lenox, and Porter.
inte Macd. Is thy master stirring ?
Our knocking has awak'd him ; here he comes.
Len. Good morrow, Noble Sir.

Enter Macbeth.
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've almost Nipt the hour.

Macb, I'll bring you to him.

Macd. I know this is a joyful trouble to you : olt. But yet 'tis one.

Macb. The labour we delight in, phyfics * pain ; wat kos. This is the door. Macd. I'll make so bold to call, for 'tis

my

limited † service.

[Exit Macduff:
Len. Goes the King hence to-day?
Macb. He did appoint fo.
Len. The night has been unruly. Where we lay,

Our

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Exter 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 carousmg till the second cock:
And drink, Sir, is a great provuker of three things.
Macd. What three things doth drink especially provoke?

Port, Marry, Sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, Sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provukes the desire, but it takes a

the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes hini, and it mars him; ic fets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and dishearteris him; makes him itand to, and not stand tv; in conclusion, equivocates him into a fleep, and, giving him the lye, leaves him.

Mact. I believe, drink gave thee the lye last night.

Port. 'That, it did, Sir, i th' very throat o' me; but I requited him for his lye ; and, I think, being too ftrong for him, though he my legs tone time, yet I made a Disc to.cait him.

SCENE, S'c.
i.e. heals, cures.
to limited, for appointed.

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*

Our chimnies were blown down : and, as they say,
Lamentings heard i'th' air, strange screams of death,
Aunts prophesying with accents terrible
Of dire combustion, and confus’d events,
New hatch'd to th' woful time :
The obscure bird clamour'd the live-long night.
Some say, the earth was fev'rous, and did shake.

Niacb. 'Twas a rough night.

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

Enter Macduff
; Macd. O horror! horror! horror!
Nor tongue, nor heart, cannot conceive, nor name

thee-
Macb. and Len. What is the matter?

Macd. Confusion now hath made his master-piece ;
Most facrilegious Murther hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o'th' building.
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 fpeak; See, and then speak yourselves : awake! awake!

[ ir xeunt Macbeth and Lenox. Ring the alarum bell -murther! and treaton ! Banquo, and Donald Bane! Malcolm ! awake! Shake off this downy fleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itfeifThe great doom's image

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

SCENE V.
Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady. What's the bufincs,
That fuch an hideous trumpet calls to parley
The Sleepers of the house ? Speak.

Macd. Gentle Lady,
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak,
The repetition in a woman's ear
Would murther as it feli.---- Banquo, Banquo!

Enter

-up, up, and see

1

Enter Banquo. Our royal master's murther’d.

Lady. Woe, alas! What, in our house ? Ban. Too cruel, any

where.
Macduff, I pr’ythee contradict thyself,
And say it is not fo.

Enter Macbell, Lenox, and Rolle.
Macb. Had I but dy'd 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
Is left this vault to brag of.

Enter Malcolm and Donald Bane.
Don. What is amifs ?

Macb. You are, and do not know't : The spring, the head, the fountain of

your

blood
source of it is stopt.
Macd. Your royal father's murther'd.
Mal. Oh, 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 truited 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 wise, amaz’d, temp?rate and fuLoyal and neutral ț in a moment ? no man. Lrious, “ The expedition of my violent love " Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan; “ His filver skin lac'd with his golden blood, " And his gaih'd ftabs look'd like a breach in nature, * For ruin's wasteful entrance ; there the murtherers, " Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers Vol. VI.

Y

« Vamanly serious, for valuable. neutral, for unconcerned, indifferent,

Is stopt ;

the very

“ Unmanly reech'd with gore ; who could refrain,
“ That had a heart to love, and in that heart

Courage, to makc's love known?
Lody. Help me hence, ho ! [Seeming to faint.
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 with an augre-hole,
May rush, and seize us ? Let's away, our tears
Are not yet brew'd.

Mal. Nor our strong sorrow on
The foot of motion.
Lan. Look to the Lady ;

[Lady Macbeth is carried out.
And when we have our naked frailties hid,
That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
And question this most bloody piece of work,
To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us.
In the great hand of God I ftand, and thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence † I fight
Of treas'nous malice.

Niach. So do I.
All. So all.

Nacb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' th' hall together.

All. Well contented. [Fxe. all but Nal. and Don.

Mal. What will you do? let's not consort with them :
To shew an unfelt sorrow, is an office
Which the falle man does easy. I'll to England.

Don. To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
Shall keep us both the safer; where we are,
There's daggers in mens' smiles ; the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.

Nial. This murtherous shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted ; and our safeft way
Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse ;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
But shift away; there's warrant in that theft,
Which steals itself when there's no mercy left. (Exeunt.

SCENE pretence, for aft

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