I have thee not, and yet I fee thee ftil!,
Art thou not, fatal Vifion, fenfible
To feeling, as to fight? Or art thou but
A Dagger of the Mind, a falfe Creation,
Proceeding from the Heat-oppressed Brain?
I fee thee yet, in form, as palpable

As this which now I draw.

Thou marshal'ft me the way that I was going,
And fuch an Inftrument I was to use.

Mine Eyes are made the Fools o'th' other Senfes,
Or else worth all the rest
I fee thee ftill,
And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood,
Which was not fo before. There's no fuch thing
It is the bloody Bufinefs, which informs

Thus to mine Eyes. Now o'er the one half world
Nature feems dead, and wicked Dreams abuse
The Curtain'd fleep; now Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's Offerings, and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Sentinel, the Wolf,

Whofe howl's his Watch, thus with his ftealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing fides, towards his Defign
Moves like a Ghoft. Thou four and firm-fet Earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very Stones prate of my where-about,
And take the prefent Horror from the time,
Which now fuits with it. Whilft I threat, he lives;
Words to the heat of Deeds too cold breath gives.

I go, and it is done; the Bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell,
That fummons thee to Heaven, or to Hell.

Enter Lady.

LA Bell rings.

[Exit.

[bold:

Lady, That which hath made them drunk, hath made me What hath quencht them, hath given me Fire. Hark! Peace! It was the Owl that fhriek'd, the fatal Bell-Man, Which gives the ftern'ft good Night

he is about it

The Doors are open; and the furfeited Grooms
Do mock their Charge with Snores, I have drugg'd their

Poffets,

R 3

That

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 'tis not done; the Attempt, and not the Deed Confounds us --- Hark! --- I laid their Daggers ready, He could not mifs 'em. Had he not refembled My Father as he flept, I had don't --- My Husband! Macb. I have done the deed Didft not thou

hear a Noife?

Lady. I heard the Owl scream, and the Crickets cry, Did not you fpeak?

Macb. When?

Lady. Now.

Macb. 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.

Mach. One cry'd, God blefs 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 blefs us.

Lady. Confider it not fo deeply.

Mach. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen?

I had moft need of Bleffing, and Amen ftuck in my Throat. Lady. These Deeds must not be thought, after these ways;

So, it will make us mad.

Macb. Mhought I heard a Voice cry, Sleep no more.; Macbeth does murther fleep, he innocent fleep,

1

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 Courfe,
Chief Nourisher in Life's Feaft.

Lady. What do you mean?

Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleep no more, to all the House ; Glamis hath murther'd Sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shali 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 Witnefs from your Hand. Why did you bring thefe Daggers from the place? They muft lye there. Go, carry them, and smear 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 seem 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 was this Blood

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

Making the green one red.

Lady. My Hands are of your Colour; but I fhame

Enter Lady.

To wear a Heart fo white.'

[Knock.

[Knock.

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

And fhew us to be Watchers; be not loft

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

'Twere beft not know my felf.
Wake Duncan with this Knocking;
I would thou could'st.

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. Knock. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there, i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himself on th'expectation of Plenty: 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, againft either Scale, who committed Treafon enough for God's fake, yet could not equivocate to Heaven: 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 Hofe: Come in, Taylor, here you may roaft your Goofe. Knock, 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❜ everlafting Bonfire. Knock, Anon, anon, I pray you reĶneck. member the Porter.

Enter Macduff, and Lerox.

Macd. Was it fo late, Friend, e'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 prcvoke ?

Port. Marry, Sir, Nofe-painting, Sleep, and Urine. Letchery, Sir, it provokes, and unprevokes; 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 disheartens 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 stirring?

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

Mach. Good Morrow both,

Macd. Is the King stirring, 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?

Mach. 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,
Lamentings heard i'th' Air; ftrange screams of Death,
And Prophefying, with Accents terrible,

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

The obscure Bird clamor'd the live-long Night,
Some fay the Earth was Feaverous, and did thake.
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

Mack.