And 'tis not done; th' attempt, and not the deed Mach. When? Lady. Now. Macb. As I defcended? Lady. Ay. Macb. Hark!-who lyes i'th' fecond chamber ▸ Lady. Donalbain. Mach. This is a forry fight. [Looks on his bands. Lady. A foolish thought, to fay a forry fight. Mach. There's one did laugh in's fleep, and one cry'd, Murther! They wak'd each other; and I ftood and heard them; Lady. There are two lodg'd together. Macb. One cry'd, God bless us ! and Amen the other, As they had feen me with these hangman's hands. Lift'ning their fear, I could not fay Amen, When they did fay, God bless us ! Lady. Confider it not fo deeply. Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen ? I had moft need of bleffing, and Amen Stuck in my throat. Lady. Thefe deeds muft not be thought on Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Lady. What do you mean? innocent fleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd fleeve of care, The death of, . Mach Mach. Still it cry'd, Sleep no more, to all the houfe Glamis bath murther'd fleep, and therefore Cawdor Sball fleep no more; Macbeth fhall fleep no more! Lady. Who was it that thus cry'd ? why, worthy Thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brain-fickly of things; go, get some water, And wash this filthy witnefs from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They muft lye there. Go, carry them, and smear The fleepy grooms with blood. Mach. I'll go no more; I am afraid to think what I have done ; Lady. Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers; the fleeping and the dead I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. Knock within. Macb. Whence is that knocking? [Exit. [Starting. How is't with me, when every noise appalls me ? What hands are here? hah! they pluck out mine eyes. Clean from my hand? no, this my hand will rather Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady. My hands are of your colour; but I fhame How eafie is it then? your conftancy [Knock Hath left you unattended-hark, more knocking! [Knock. Get on your night-gown, left occafion call us, And fhew us to be watchers; be not loft So poorly in your thoughts. --- will rather Thy multitudinous sea incarnadine, Making the green one red Ener Lady Macbeth. &c. VOL. VIII. I Mat. Macb. T' unknow my deed, 'twere beft not know my self. Wake Duncan with this knocking: would thou could'st! [Excunt, SCENE IV. Enter Macduff, Lenox and Porter. Macd. Is thy mafter stirring? Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. Len. Good morrow, noble Sir. Enter Macbeth. Mach, Good morrow both, Macd. Is the King ftirring, worthy Thane ? SCENE IV. Enter a Porter. [Exeunt. [Knocking within. Port. Here's a knocking indeed: if a man were porter of hell-gate, he fhould have old turning the key. [Knock.] Knock, knock, knock. Who's there, i'th' name of Belzebub? here's a farmer, that hang'd himfelf in th'expectation of plenty: come in time, have napkins enough about you, here you'll fweat for't. (Knock Knock, knock, Who's there in th' other devil's name? 'faith, here's an equivoca tor, that could fwear in both the fcales against either fcale, who committed treafon enough for God's fake, yet could not equivocate to heav'n oh come in, equivocator. Knock.] Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? 'faith, here's an English tailor come hither for ftealing out of a French hofe: come in, tailor, here you may roaft your goole. [Knock.] 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 feme of all profeffions, that go the primrole way to th'everlafting bonfire. [Knock.]. Anon, anon, I pray you remember the porter. Enter Macduff, and Lenox. Macd. Was it fo late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lye fo late? Port. Faith, Sir, we were carousing 'till the fecond cock: And drink, Sir, is a great provoker of three things. Macd. What three things doth drink especially provoke ? Port. Marry, Sir, nofe-painting, fleep, and urine. Letchery, Sir. 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 letchery; it makes him, and it mars him; it fets him on, and it takes him off; it perfwades him, and disheartens, him; makes him ftand to, and not ftand to; in conclufion, equivocates him into a fleep, and giving him the lie, leaves him. Macd. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. Port. That it did, Sir, i' th' very throat on me; but I requited him for this lie, and I think, being too ftrong for him, though he Look up my legs fometime, yet I made a fhift to cast him. SCENE, &c. Mach. Not yet. Macd. He did command me to call timely on him I've almoft flipt the hour. Mach. 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 * phyficks pain; This is the door. Macd. I'll make fo bold to call, For 'tis my limited fervice. Len. Goes the King hence to-day? [Exit Macduff. Len. The night has been unruly; where we lay Our chimneys were blown down: and, as they fay, Lamentings heard i'th air, strange screams of death, And prophefyings with accents terrible Of dire combuftions, and confus'd events, New hatch'd to th'woful time: the obfcure bird Mach. 'Twas a rough night. Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. Enter Macduff. Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Or tongue or heart cannot conceive, nor name thee Macd. Confufion now hath made his master-piece, Moft facrilegious murther hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o'th' building. Mach. What is't you fay? the life? Len. Mean you his Majefty? Macd. Approach the chamber, and deftroy your fight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak; See, and then speak your felves: awake! awake! [Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. Ring the alarum-bell murther! and treafon! • Heals or cures pain. I 2 Banque, Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! Shake off this downy fleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death it felf The great doom's image! up, up, and fee Malcolm! Donalbain! As from your graves rife up, and walk like sprights, Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady. What's the business, That fuch an hideous trumpet calls to parley The fleepers of the house? speak. Mard. Gentle Lady, "Tis not for you to hear what I can speak. The repetition in a woman's ear Would murther as it fell. O Banquo, Banquo, Enter Banquo. Our royal mafter's murther'd. What, in our house ? Ban. Too cruel, any where. Macduff, I pr'ythee contradict thy felf, And fay, it is not fo. Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe. Macb. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance, All is but toys; renown and grace are dead; Enter Malcolm, and Donalbain. your Don. What is amifs ? blood Len. Thofe 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 |