What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wath this blood

Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous feas incarnadine,

Making the green one red.

Re-enter Lady MACBETH.

L. M. My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart fo white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking At the fouth entry: retire we to our chamber:

A little water clears us of this deed:

How easy is it then? Your conftancy

[ing:

Hath left you unattended. [Knock.] Hark! more knock-
Get on your night-gown, left occasion call us,
And fhew us to be watchers: Be not loft

So poorly in your thoughts.

MAC. To know my deed,-"Twere beft not know

[myfelf.

[Knocking.

[Exeunt.

Wake, Duncan, with this knocking :'Would thou could'f!

SCENE III. The fame.

Enter a Porter.

Por. 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'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 fweat for't. [Knock.] Knock, knock: Who's there, i'the other devil's name? 'Faith, here's an equivocator, that could fwear in both the fcales against either fcale; who committed treason enough for God's fake, yet could not equivocate to hea

18 with thy knocking

ven: o, come in, equivocator. [Knock.] 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 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 to the everlasting bonfire. [Knock.] Anon, anon; I pray you, remember the porter. [opens.

Enter MACDUFF, and LENOXx. MAC. Was it fo late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lye fo late?

Por. 'Faith, fir, we were carowsing 'till the second cock and drink, fir, is a great provoker of three things.

MAC. What three things does drink especially provoke?

Por. Marry, fir, nose-painting, fleep, and urine. Lechery, fir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, 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 difheartens him; makes him ftand to, and not stand to: in conclusion, equivocates him in a fleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

MAC. I believe, drink gave thee the lie laft night. Por. That it did, fir, 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 fometime, yet I made a fhift to caft him.

MAC. Is thy mafter stirring?

And fay, it is not fo.

Re-enter MACBETH, and LENOX.

MAC. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a bleffed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing ferious in mortality:

All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead;
The wine of life is drawn, and the meer lees
Is left this vault to brag of.

Enter MALCOLM, and DONALBAIN.

DON. What is amifs?

MAC. You are, and do not know't :

The fpring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is ftopt; the very fource of it is ftopt.

MAC. Your royal father's murther'd.
MAL. O, by whom?

LEN. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had don't:
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows; they ftar'd, and were diftracted,
as no man's life was to be trufted with them.

MAC. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them.

MACd. Wherefore did you fo?

[rious,

MAC'. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and fu

Loyal, and neutral, in a moment? No man :
The expedition of my violent love

Out-ran the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan,
His filver skin lac'd with his golden blood;

And his gafh'd ftabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wafteful entrance: there, the murtherers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore: Who could refiain,

That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make his love known?
L. M. Help me hence, ho!
MACd. Look to the lady.

[feeming to faint.

[gather about ber.

MAL. Why do we hold our tongues,
That most may claim this argument for ours?
DON. What should be spoken here,
Where our fate, hid within an augre hole,
May rush, and feize us? Let's away.
Our tears are not yet brew'd.

MAL. Nor our strong sorrow

Upon the foot of motion.

BAN. Look to the lady. [L. MACBETH is carry'dout. And when we have our naked frailties hid,

That fuffer in exposure, let us meet,

And question this most bloody piece of work,
To know it further. Fears and fcruples shake us:
In the great hand of God I ftand; and, thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight

Of treasonous malice.

MACd. And fo do I.

all. So all.

MAC. Let's briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i'the hall together.

all.

Well contented.

[Exeunt MAC. BAN. MAC. LEN. &c. MAL. What will you do? Let's not confort with them:

To fhew an unfelt forrow, is an office

Which the falfe man does easy: I'll to England.

DON. To Ireland, I; our feparated fortune

Shall keep us both the fafer: where we are,
There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,

The nearer bloody.

MAL. This murtherous shaft that's fhot,
Hath not yet lighted; and our fafest way
Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horfe;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
But shift away: There's warrant in that theft,
Which fteals itself, when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The fame. Without the Caftle.
Enter RossE, and an old Man.

o. m. Three-fcore and ten I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time, I have seen
Hours dreadful, and things ftrange; but this fore night
Hath trifl'd former knowings.

Ros. Ah, good father,

Thou feeft, the heavens, as troubl'd with man's act,
Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
And yet dark night ftrangles the travelling lamp:
Is it night's predominance, or the day's fhame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kiss it?

o. m. 'Tis unnatural,

Even like the deed that's done. On tuesday laft,
A faulcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,

Was by a mousing owl hawkt at, and kill'd. [certain)
Ros. And Duncan's horfes, (a thing moft ftrange, and
Beauteous, and swift, the minions of their race,
Turn'd wild in nature, broke their ftalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would
Make war with man.

o. m. 'Tis faid, they eat each other.

Ros. They did fo; to the amazement of mine eyes,

17 Threatens 30 with Mankinde