Macbeth (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Scena Tertia.
¶
Enter a Porter.
¶
Knocking within.
¶Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were
745Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the
¶Key. Knock. Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there
¶i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd
¶himselfe on th' expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue
750Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Deuils Name?
¶Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both
¶enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Hea-
¶uen: oh come in, Equiuocator. Knock. Knock,
755Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English
¶Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this
¶place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further:
¶Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.
¶
Enter Macduff, and Lenox
765That you doe lye so late?
¶And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things.
¶prouoke?
¶Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes
¶the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore
¶much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Le-
¶cherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on,
775and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens
¶leaues him.
780Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I
¶requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong
¶for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I
¶made a Shift to cast him.
¶
Enter Macbeth.
¶Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes.
¶Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir.
¶Macb. Good morrow both.
790Macb. Not yet.
¶Macd. He did command me to call timely on him,
¶Macb. Ile bring you to him.
¶Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you:
795But yet 'tis one.
¶This is the Doore.
¶seruice.
Exit Macduffe.
800Lenox. Goes the King hence to day?
¶Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly:
¶Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe,
¶And (as they say) lamentings heard i'th' Ayre;
805Strange Schreemes of Death,
¶And Prophecying, with Accents terrible,
¶Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents,
¶New hatch'd to th' wofull time.
¶The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night.
810Some say, the Earth was feuorous,
¶And did shake.
¶Macb. 'Twas a rough Night.
¶Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell
¶A fellow to it.
815
Enter Macduff.
¶Macd. O horror, horror, horror,
¶Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee.
¶Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter?
¶The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence
¶The Life o'th' Building.
¶With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake:
¶
Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.
¶Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
830Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,
¶Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
¶The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo,
¶As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights,
835To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
¶
Bell rings. Enter Lady.
¶That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley
840Macd. O gentle Lady,
¶'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake:
¶The repetition in a Womans eare,
¶Would murther as it fell.
¶
Enter Banquo.
845O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd.
¶Lady. Woe, alas:
¶What, in our House?
¶Ban. Too cruell, any where.
¶Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe,
¶
Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.
¶Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance,
¶There's nothing serious in Mortalitie:
855All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,
¶The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees
¶Is left this Vault, to brag of.
¶
Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.
860Macb. You are, and doe not know't:
¶The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood
¶Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd.
¶Mal. Oh, by whom?
¶Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood,
¶So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we found
¶No mans Life was to be trusted with them.
870Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie,
¶That I did kill them.
¶Loyall, and Neutrall, in a moment? No man:
875Th' expedition of my violent Loue
¶His Siluer skinne, lac'd with his Golden Blood,
¶And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature,
¶For Ruines wastfull entrance: there the Murtherers,
880Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers
¶Vnmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refraine,
¶That had a heart to loue; and in that heart,
¶Courage, to make's loue knowne?
¶Lady. Helpe me hence, hoa.
885Macd. Looke to the Lady.
¶Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues,
¶That most may clayme this argument for ours?
¶Where our Fate hid in an augure hole,
¶Our Teares are not yet brew'd.
¶Vpon the foot of Motion.
¶Banq. Looke to the Lady:
895And when we haue our naked Frailties hid,
¶In the great Hand of God I stand, and thence,
900Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight
¶Of Treasonous Mallice.
¶All. So all.
905And meet i'th' Hall together.
¶Malc. What will you doe?
¶Let's not consort with them:
¶To shew an vnfelt Sorrow, is an Office
¶Ile to England.
¶Don. To Ireland, I:
¶Where we are, there's Daggers in mens Smiles;
915The neere in blood, the neerer bloody.
¶Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse,
¶And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking,
920But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft,
¶
Exeunt.
