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Lady M. Ay.

Macb. Hark!
Who lies i’ the second chamber?
Lady M.

Macb. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.
Lady M. A foolish thought to say a sorry sight.
Macb. There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried,

“murder !” That they did wake each other: I stood and heard

But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
Again to sleep.

Lady M. There are two lodg’d together.
Macb. One cried, “ God bless us !” and, “ Amen,”

the other,
As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.
Listening their fear, I could not say amen,
When they did say God bless us.
Lady M.

Consider it not so deeply.
Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce amen?
I had most need of blessing, and amen
Stuck in my throat.
Lady M.

These deeds must not be thought
After these ways : so, it will make us mad.
Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, “ Sleep no

Macbeth does murder sleep,”—the innocent sleep;
Sleep, that knits up the ravellid sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast ;-
Lady M.

What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried, “ Sleep no more !” to all the


3 — the ravellid SLEAVE of care,] “ Sleave” silk is coarse unwrought silk. See Vol. vi. p. 110, note 7. This and what follows seem Macbeth's reflections upon sleep, and ought not, therefore, to form part of what he is supposed to have overheard. Compare Griffin's “ Fidessa," sonn. 15. repr. 1815.

is hand. cht. me crie?

d heari


“Glamis bath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more !"
Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy

You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brainsickly of things. Go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.-
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there: go, carry them, and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.

I'll go no more :
I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on't again, I dare not.
Lady M.

Infirm of purpose !
Give me the daggers. The sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood,
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt. [Erit.-Knocking within.

Whence is that knocking ?-
How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
What hands are here? Ha! 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 seas incarnardine,
Making the green one, red".

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Re-enter Lady MACBETH.
Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I shame
To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking
At the south entry :-retire we to our chamber.

Making the green one, red.) The punctuation in the three earliest folios (the fourth folio omits the comma) is that which we have transferred to our text, and such was the ordinary reading until the time of Murphy, who suggested that the passage should be given thus :—“Making the green-one red.” As we have before had occasion to remark, although the old pointing can be no rule, it may be some guide, and we therefore revert to what we consider the natural, and to what was probably the ancient, mode of delivering the words.

A little water clears us of this deed :
How easy is it, then? Your constancy
Hath left you unattended.—[Knock.] Hark! more

knocking. Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, And show us to be watchers.—Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. Macb. To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

[Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking: I would thou couldst!



The Same.

Enter a Porter. [Knocking within. Porter. Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the keys. [Knocking.] 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 enough about you ; here you'll sweat fort. [Knocking.] 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: 0! come in, equivocator. [Knocking.] 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. [Knocking.] Knock, knock. Never at quiet! What are you?-But this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no farther: 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.

5 — he should have old turning the key.] The word “old ” was a very common augmentative in Shakespeare's time, and hundreds of instances of its use might easily be accumulated.

[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; 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 ?


Our knocking has awak'd him ; here he comes.

Len. Good-morrow, noble sir !

Good-morrow, both !
Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane ?

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.

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 :

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