Which was not fo before.-There's no fuch thing.-
It is the bloody bufinefs, which informs

Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er one half the world
Nature feems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings: and wither'd Murder,
(Alarum'd by his fentinel, the wolf,

Whofe howl's his watch) thus with his ftealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing ftrides, tow'rds his defign
Moves like a ghoft.-Thou found and firm-fet earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very ftones prate of my where-about;
And take the prefent horror from the time,
Which now fuits with it.-Whilft I threat, he lives—
[A Bell rings.
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell

That fummons thee to heav'n or to hell.

[Exit.

Lady. TH

HAT which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold:

[peace! What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire. Hark! It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bell-man, Which gives the ftern'ft good-night-he is about

it

The doors are open; and the furfeited grooms
Do mock their charge with fnores. I've drugg'd
their Poffets,

That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live or die.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Who's there?- -what ho!

Lady. Alack! I am afraid, they have awak'd; And 'tis not done; th' attempt and not the deed,

Confounds

Confounds us-hark-! I laid their daggers ready,
He could not mifs 'em.-Had he not resembled
My father as he flept, I had don't-My husband!
Macb. I've done the deed-didft thou not hear
a noise ?

Lady. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry. Did not you speak?

Macb. Hark!

Lady. Donalbain.

-who lies i'th' second chamber?

Macb. This is a forry fight. [Looks on his hands. Lady. A foolish thought, to fay, a forry fight. Macb. There's one did laugh in's fleep, and one cry'd, Murder!

They wak'd each other; and I ftood and heard them; But they did fay their prayers, and addrefs them Again to fleep.

Lady. There are too lodg'd together.

Macb. One cry'd, God bless us! and, Amen! the other;

As they had feen me with thefe hangman's hands.
Listening their fear, I could not say, 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, After these ways; fo, it will make us mad.

[more!

Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no Macbeth doth murder Sleep; the innocent fleep; Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The birth of each day's life, fore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's fecond Course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.

Lady. What do you mean?

Mach. Still it cry'd, fleep no more, to all the house; Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall fleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more! Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane,

You do unbend your noble ftrength, to think
So brain-fickly of things; go, get fome water,
And wash this filthy witnefs from your hand.
Why did you bring thefe daggers from the place?
They muft lie there. Go, carry them, and smear
The fleepy grooms with blood.

Macb. I'll go no more;

I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on't again, I dare not.

Lady. Infirm of purpofe!

Give me the daggers; the fleeping and the dead
Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood,
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it muft feem their guilt.

Knocks within.

Macb. Whence is that knocking!

[Exit.

[Starting

How is it with me, when every noise appals me?

What hands are here? hah! they pluck out mine

eyes.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wafh this blood
Clean from my hand? no, this my hand will rather
Thy multitudinous fea incarnardine,

Making the green one red

Enter Lady.

Lady. My hands are of your colour; but I fhame To wear a heart fo white; I hear a knocking

[Knock.

How

At the fouth entry. Retire we to our chamber;
A little water clears us of this deed.

How easy is it then? your conftancy

Hath left you unattended-hark, more knocking!

Get on your night-gown, left occafion call us,
And fhew us to be Watchers; be not loft
So poorly in your thoughts.

[Knock.

Macb. To know my deed, 'twere beft not know myself.

Wake, Duncan, with this knocking: 'would thou

couldft!

SCENE IV.

Enter a Porter.

[Exeunt.

[Knocking Port. man were porter of hell-gate, he

within.] 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 himself on the expectation of plenty come in time, have napkins enough about you, here you'll fweat for't. [Knock] Knock, knock. Who's there i'th' other devil's name? faith' *here's an equivocator, that could fwear in both the fcales againft 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 taylor come hither for ftealing out of a French hofe: come in, taylor, here you may roaft your goofe: [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 fome of all profeffions, that go the primrose way

here's an equivocator who committed treafon enough for God's fake,] Meaning a Jesuit; an Order so troublesome to the State in Queen Elizabeth and King James the Firft's Times. The Inventors of the execrable Doârine of Equivocation.

to th'everlasting 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 lie fo late?

Port. Faith, Sir, we were caroufing 'till the second 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. Lechery, 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 lechery; it makes him, and it mars him; it fets him on, and it takes him off; it perfuades 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 o' me; but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too ftrong for him, though he took my legs fome time, I made a fhift to caft him.

yet

Macd. Is thy mafter 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 ftirring, worthy Thane?

Macb. Not yet.

Macd. He did command me to call timely on him;

I've almost flipt the hour.

Macb. I'll bring you to him.

Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you:

But yet, 'tis one.

Macb.