That Death and Nature do contend about them,

Whether they live or die.

Enter Macbeth.

Mach. Who's there? What ho?

Lady. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd,
And is not done; the Attempt, and not the Deed
Confounds us--Hark!--I laid their Daggersready,
He could not mifs 'em. Had he not resembled
My Father as he flept, I had don't---My Husband?
Mach. I have done the deed-

hear a Noife?

Didft not thou

Lady. I heard the Owl fcream, and the Crickets cry.

Did not you speak?

Mach. When?

Lady. Now.

Mach. As I defcended?

Lady. Ay.

Macb. Hark!

Lady. Donalbaine.

who lyes i'th' fecond Chamber?

Macb. This is a forry fight.

Lady. A foolish Thought, to fay a forry, fight.

Macb. There's one did laugh in's fleep, and one cry'd
Murther,

That they did wake each other; I ftood, and heard them;
But they did fay their Prayers, and addreft them
Again to fleep.

Lady. There are two lodg'd together.

Macb. One cry'd, God bless us, and Amen the other, As they had feen me with thefe Hangman's Hands, Liftning their Fear; I could not fay Amen,

When they did fay, God bless us.

Lady. Confider it not fo deeply.

Macb. But wherefore could ret I pronounce Amen? I had moft need of Bleffing, and Amen ftuck in my Throat. Lady. Thefe Deeds must not be thought, after thefe ways;

So, it will make us mad."

Macb. Methought I heard a Voice cry, Sleep no more 3 Macbeth does murther fleep, the innocent fleep,

Sleep that knits up the ravell'd Sleeve of Care,
The Death of each day's Life, fore Labours Bath,

Balm

Balm of hurt Minds, great Nature's fecond Course,
Chief Nourisher in Life's Feaft.

Lady. What do you mean?

Mach. Still it cry'd, Sleep no more, to all the Houfe; Glamis hath murther'd Sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall fleep no more; Macbeth fhall fleep no more. Lady. Who was it that thus cry'd? Why, worthy Thane, You do unbend your noble Strength, to think So brain-fickly of things; go, get fome Water, And wash this filthy Witness from your Hand. Why did you bring thefe Daggers from the place? They muft lye there. Go, carry them, and imear The fleepy Grooms with Blood.

Mach. I'll go no more;

I am afraid, to think what I have done;
Look on't again, I dare not.

Lady. Infirm of purpose!

Give me the Daggers; the fleeping and the dead,
Are but as Pictures; 'tis the Eye of Child-hood,
That fears a painted Devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the Faces of the Grooms withal,
For it must feem their Guilt.

Knock within.

Mach. Whence is that Knocking?

How is't with me, when every Noife appalls me?

[Exit

[Starting.

What Hands are here? Hah! they pluck out mine Eyes.

Will all great Neptune's Ocean wash this Blood

Clean from my Hand? No, this my Hand will rather
The multitudinous Sea incarnadine,

Making the green one red..

Enter Lady.

Lady. My Hands are of your Colour; but I fhame To wear a Heart fo white.

[Knock.

I hear a Knocking at the South Entry;

Retire we to our Chamber;

A little Water clears us of this deed.

How eafie is it then? Your Conftancy

Hath left you unattended.

Hark, more Knocking.

[Knock.

Get on your Night-Gown, left occafion call us,

R 4

And

And fhew us to be Watchers; be not loft

So poorly in your thoughts.
Mach. To krow my deed,

'Twere beft not know my self.
Wake Duncan with this Knocking:
I would thou could'ft.

Enter a Porter.

[Knock

[Exeunt.

[Knocking within.

Port. Here's a Knocking indeed: If a Man were Porter of Hell-Gate, he should have old turning the Key. KnockKnock, knock, knock. Who's there, i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himself on th' expectation of Pleaty: Come in time, have Napkins enough about you, here you'll fweat for't. Knock. Knock, knock, Who's there in th' other Devils Name? Faith, here's an Equivocator, that could fwear in both the Scales, against either Scale, who committed Treafon enough for God's fake, yet could not equivocate to Heav'n: Oh come in, Equivocator. Knock Knock, knock, knock, Who's there? Faith, here's an English Taylor come hither for ftealing out of a French Hole: Come in Taylor, here you may roaft your Goofe. Kneck. 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 th' everlasting Bonfire. Knock. Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.

Enter Macduff, and Lenox.

Macd. Was it fo late, Friend, c'er you went to bed, That you do lye fo late?

Port. Faith, Sir, we were caroufing 'till the fecond Cock: And Drink, Sir, is a great Provoker of three things.

Macd. What three things does Drink efpecially provoke?

Port. Marry, Sir, Nofe-painting, Sleep, and Urine. Letchery, Sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the Defire, but it takes away the Performance. Therefore much Drink may be faid to be an Equivocator with Letchery; it makes him and it mars him; it fets him on, and it takes him off; it perfwades him, and difteartens him; makes him

ftand

stand to, and not ftand to; in Conclufion, equivocates him into a fleep, and giving him the Lie, leaves him.

Macd. I believe Drink gave thee the Lie laft Night.

Port. That it did, Sir, i' the very Throat on me; but I requited him for his Lie, and, I think, being too ftrong for him, though he took up my Legs fometime, yet I made a fhift to caft him.

Enter Macbeth.

Macd. Is thy Master ftirring?..

Our Knocking has awak'd him; here he comes.
Len. Good Morrow, Noble Sir.

Mach. Good Morrow both.

Macd. Is the King ftirring, worthy Thane?
Mach. Not yet.

Macd. He did command me to call timely on him,
I have almoft flipt the Hour.

Mach. 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, Phyfick's pain; This is the Door.

Macd. I'll make fo bold to call, for 'tis my limited Ser

vice.

Len. Goes the King hence to day?

Macd. He does; he did appoint fo.

[Exit Macduff.

Len. The Night has been unruly; where we lay
Our Chimneys were blown down. And, as they fay,
Lamenting heard i'th' Air; ftrange fcreams of Death,
And Prophefying, with Accents terrible,

Of dire Combustions, and confus'd Events,
New hatch'd to th' woful time.

The obfcure Bird clamor'd the live-long Night,
Some fay the Earth was Feaverous, and did shake.
Mach. 'Twas a rough Night.

Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel

A fellow to it.

Enter Macduff.

Macd. O horror! horror! horror!

Tongue nor Heart cannot conceive, nor name thee

Macb.

Mack, and Len. What's the Matter?

Macd. Confufion now hath made his Mafter-piece,
Moft facrilegious Murther hath broke ope

The Lord's anointed Temple, and ftole thence
The Life o'th Building.

Mach. What is't you fay? the Life?

Len. Mean you his Majefty?

Macd. Approach the Chamber, and deftroy your fight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me fpeak;

See, and then speak your felves: Awake! awake!

[Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. Macd. Ring the Alarum-Bell---Murther! and Treafon !--Banquo, and Donalbaine! Malcolme! awake!

Shake off this downy Sleep, Death's Counterfeit,

And look on Death it felf

-up, up, and fee

The great Doom's Image! Malcome! Banquo!
As from your Graves rife up, and walk like Sprights,
To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell

Bell Rings. Enter Lady Macbeth.

Lady. What's the Bufinefs?

That fuch an hideous Trumpet calls to Parley,
The Sleepers of the Houfe? Speak, speak.
Macd. O gentle Lady,

'Tis not for you to hear what I can fpeak :
The Repetition in a Woman's Ear,

Would murther as it fell.

Enter Banquo.

O Banquo, Banquo, our Royal Master's murther'd.

Lady. Woe, alas!

What, in our Houfe?

Ban. Too cruel, any where.

Dear Duff, I prithee contradict thy felf,

And fay, it is not fo.

Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe.

Mac. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance,
I had liv'd a bleffed time: For from this inftant,
There's nothing ferious 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