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?— Enter Macbeth.
Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes.

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 physics pain.
This is the door.

Macd.
I'll make so bold to call,
For 'tis my limited service. [Exit Macduff.

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 confus'd events,
New hatch'd to the 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 heart,
Cannot conceive, nor name thee!

Macb. Len.
What's the matter?

Macd.
Confusion now hath made his master-piece.
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?

Len.
Mean you his majesty?

Macd.
Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
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 sprites
To countenance this horror! Ring the bell^{6 note}. [Bell rings. 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.
O, gentle lady!
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition, in a woman's ear, Enter Banquo.
Would murder as it fell.—O Banquo! Banquo!
Our royal master's murder'd!

Lady M.
Woe, alas!
What! in our house?

Ban.
Too cruel, anywhere.
Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself,
And say, it is not so. Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox^{7 note}.

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't:
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 furious,
Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
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 's 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 in an auger-hole,
May rush, and seize 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.— [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 farther. Fears and scruples shake us:
In the great hand of God I stand; and, thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight^{8 note}
Of treasonous malice.

Macd.
And so do I.

All.
So all.

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

All.
Well contented. [Exeunt all but Mal. and Don.

Mal.
What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
Which the false man does easy. I'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.

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