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Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
What do you mean? MacB. Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all the .
I'll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on't again I dare not. LADY M.
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. МАСв. .
Whence is that knocking ? How is 't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand ? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Re-enter LADY MACBETH.
hear a knocking
Hark! more knocking.
[Knocking within. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!
[Exeunt. SCENE III.
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 enow about you; here you'll sweat for’t. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Who's there, in 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. 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 on 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?
LEN. Good morrow, noble sir.
Good morrow, both.
Macd. He did command me to call timely on him:
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.
I'll make so bold to call,
. LEN. Goes the king hence to-day? 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, And prophesying with accents terrible Of dire combustion and confused events
New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird
'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 ! MacB. LEN.
What's the matter? Macd. Confusion now hath made his master
What is 't you say? the life?
sight With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves.
[Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX.
Awake, awake! 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 The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo ! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,