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.

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.
Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane ?
Macb.

Not yet.
Macd. He did command me to call timely on him;
I have almost slipp'd the hour.
Macb.

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, physicks pain.
This is the door.
Macd.

I'll make so bold to call,
For 'tis my limited service.

Exit MacDUFF. Len.

Goes the king 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' th' air; strange screams of death; And prophecying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion, and confus'd events, New hatch'd to th' woeful time. The obscure bird Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth Was feverous, and did shake. Macb.

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

Re-enter Macduff. Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor Cannot conceive, nor name thee!

[heart, 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'th' building. Macb.

What is't you say? the life? Len. Mean you his majesty ?

[sight Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your With a new Gorgon: Do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves.-Awake! awake!

. .[Exeunt MACBETH and LENOX. 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 sprights, To countenance this horror!

[Bell rings.

· This use of the double negative is very common in our author,

Enter Lady MACBETH.
Lady M.

What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak.-
Macd.

0, gentle lady, 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak : The repetition, in a woman's ear, Would murder as it fell.- O Banquo! Banquo

Enter BANQUO.
Our royal master's murder'd !
Lady M.

Woe, alas!
What, in our house ?
Ban.

Too cruel, any where. --
Dear Duff, I pr’ythee, contradict thyself,
And say, it is not so.

Re-enter MACBETH and Lenox.
Macb. Had I but died an hour before this chance,
I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant,
There's nothing serious in mortality:
All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead;
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left this vault to brag of.

Enter Malcolm and DONALBAIN.
Don. What is amiss ?
Macb.

You are, and do not know it:
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is stopp'd : the very source of it is stopp’d.

Macd. Your royal father's murder'd.
Mal.

O, by whom?
Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't:
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows:

They star'd, and were distracted; no man's life
Was to be trusted with them.

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

Wherefore did you so ?
Macb. Who can be wise, amaz’d, temperate, and
Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: [furious,
The expedition of my violent love
Out-ran the pauser reason.—Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood;
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd' with gore: Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make his love known?
Lady M.

Help me hence, ho! Macd. Look to the lady. 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 seize us ? Let's away ; our tears
Are not yet brewd.
Mal.

Nor our strong sorrow on
The foot of motion.
Ban.

Look to the lady :

[Lady Macbeth is carried out. And when we have our naked frailties ? hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work, To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us : In the great hand of God I stand; and thence, Against the undivulg'd pretence3 I fight of treasonous malice.

· Foully sheathed. • Meaning, our half-dressed bodies.

Macb.

And so do I.
All.

So all.
Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness.
And meet i'th' hall together.
All.

Well contented.

[Exeunt all but Mal. and Don. Mal. What will you do? Let's not consort with To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office [them : Which the false man does easy : l’ll to England.

Don. To Ireland, I; our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer: where we are, There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody. Mal.

This murderous shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse; And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away: There's warrant in that theft Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.

[Exeunt.

Rosse.

SCENE IV.— Without the castle.

Enter Rosse and an old Man. Old M. Threescore and ten I can rembember well: Within the volume of which time, I have seen Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore Hath trifled former knowings.

(night

Ah, good father,
Thou see'st, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten his bloody stage: by th' clock, 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kiss it?
Old M.

'Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kill'd.

H