Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, SCENE 11. The same. Enter LADY MACBETH. [Exit. Lady M. That 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 bellman, Which gives the stern'st good night. He is about it: The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Macb. [Within] Who's there?-what, ho! Lady M. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done:-the attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us:-Hark!-I laid their daggers ready, He could not miss them.-Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't.-My husband! Enter MACBeth. Macb. I have done the deed:-Didst thou not hear a noise? Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? Lady M. Donalbain. Macb. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his Hands. Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried, murder! That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep. Lady M. There are two lodg'd together. Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Amen, the other; As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say, amen, When they did say, God bless us. Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, amen? I had most need of blessing, and amen Stuck in my throat. Lady M. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, 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 ; Lady M. What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all the house: Glamis hath murdur'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 Why did you bring these daggers from the place? Macb. I'll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal. For it must seem their guilt. [Exit. Knocking within. What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes! 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 knocking At the south entry:-retire we to our chamber: A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then! Your constancy [knocking: Hath left you unattended.-[Knocking] Hark! more Macb. To know my deed,-'twere best not know myself. [Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 'would thou couldst! [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. Enter a Porter. [Knocking within. Porter. 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 hanged 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 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: 0, come in, equivocator. [Knocking] 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] Knock, knock: Never at quiet! What are you?-But this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further: 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? Porter. '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? Porter. 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. Porter. 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. Len. Good morrow, noble sir! Macb. Good morrow, both! Not yet. Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? Macd. He did command me to call timely on him; I have almost slipp'd the hour. Macb. But yet, 'tis one. Macb. The labour we delight in, physics pain. This is the door. Macd. I'll make so bold to call, [Exit Macduff. Goes the king For 'tis my limited service. From hence to-day? Macb. He does: he did appoint it 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 confus'd events, New hatch'd to the woful time. The obscure bird Macb. Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. "Twas a rough night. 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 masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o'the building. Macb. What is't you say? the life? |