Logos Virtual Library: Shakespeare: Macbeth, II, 3
MacbethAct IIScene 3Table of ContentsCatalogue of Titles
Heres a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key.
Knock, knock, knock! Whos there, i the name of Beelzebub? Heres a farmer, that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enow about you; here youll sweat fort.
Knock, knock! Whos there, in the other devils name? Faith, heres an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale; who committed treason enough for Gods sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come in, equivocator.
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 roast your goose.
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.
Faith sir, we were carousing till the second cock: and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
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.
I have almost slippd the hour.
Ill bring you to him.
But yet tis one.
Ill make so bold to call,
For tis my limited service.
Lamentings heard i the air; strange screams of death,
New hatchd to the woeful time: the obscure bird
Clamourd the livelong night: some say, the earth
The Lords anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o the building!
Shake off this downy sleep, deaths counterfeit,
The great dooms image! Malcolm! Banquo!
Whats the business,
Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition, in a womans ear,
Our royal master s murderd!
Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS
There s nothing serious in mortality:
Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN
You are, and do not knowt:
Is stoppd; the very source of it is stoppd.
Your royal father s murderd.
Those of his chamber, as it seemd, had donet:
They stared, and were distracted; no mans life
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,
Courage to make s love known?
[Aside to DONALBAIN]
[Aside to MALCOLM]
Where our fate, hid in an auger-hole,
May rush, and seize us? Let s away;
Our tears are not yet brewd.
LADY MACBETH is carried out
Lets briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i the hall together.
What will you do? Lets not consort with them:
Which the false man does easy. Ill to England.
Theres daggers in mens smiles: the near in blood,
This murderous shaft thats shot
But shift away: theres warrant in that theft
Which steals itself, when theres no mercy left.
Act IIScene 2
Act IIScene 4