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Lady M.

The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast;-

What do you mean? Mac. Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all the

house:
Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!
Lady M. Who was it, that thus cried? Why,

worthy thane,
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brainsickly of things:-Go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your

hand.
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there: Go, carry them; and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.
Mac.

I'll go no more:
I'am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on't again, I dare not.

Infirm of purpose!
Give me the daggers: The sleeping, 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 must seem their guilt.

[Exit. Knocking within. HUMac.

Whence is that knocking! How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine

eyes ! With all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather

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Lady M.

The multitudinous seas incarnardine,
Making the green—one red.

Re-enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I

shame To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knock

ing 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.—[Knocking.] Hark!

more knocking: Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, And show us to be watchers:--Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. Mac. To know my deed, —'twere best not know myself.

[Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 'would thou could'st!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

THE SAME.

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. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's 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 devils 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.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's there? ’Faith, here's an Eng. lish 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 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 carousing 'till the second cock: and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.

Macd. What three things does drink especially provoke?

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

Enter Macbeth.

Not yet.

Len. Good-morrow, noble sir!
Mac.

Good-morrow, both!
Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
Mac.

Macıl. He did command me to call timely on him; I have almost slipp'd the hour. Mac.

I'll bring you to him. Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet, 'tis one.

Mac. The labour we delight in, physicks pain. This is the door. Macd.

I'll make so bold to call,'111,1 For 'tis my limited service. " [Erit Macduff: Len.

Goes the king
From hence to-day?
Mac.

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. Mac.

'Twas a rough night. Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.

Re-enter Macduff Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor

heart, Cannot conceive, nor name thee! Mac. & 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.
Mac.

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; See, and then speak yourselves.-Awake! awake!

[Ereunt Macbeth and Lenor. Ring the alarum-bell:~Murder! and treason! Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself !-up, up, and see

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