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Porter:
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.
Macduff:
I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
Porter:
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.
Macduff:
Is thy master stirring?
Enter Macbeth.
Our knocking has awak’d him; here he comes.
Lennox:
Good morrow, noble sir!
Macbeth:
Good morrow, both!
Macduff:
Is the King stirring, worthy thane?
Macbeth:
Not yet.
Macduff:
He did command me to call timely on him.
I have almost slipp’d the hour.
Macbeth:
I’ll bring you to him.
Macduff:
I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
But yet ’tis one.
Macbeth:
The labour we delight in physics pain.
This is the door.
Macduff:
I’ll make so bold to call.
For ’tis my limited service.
(Exit Macduff.)
Lennox:
Goes the King hence today?
Macbeth:
He does. He did appoint so.
Lennox:
The night has been unruly: where we lay,
Our chimneys were blown down and, as they say,
Lamentings heard i’ th’ 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 live-long night. Some say the earth
Was feverous, and did shake.
Macbeth:
’Twas a rough night.
Lennox:
My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it.
Enter Macduff.
Macduff:
O horror, horror, horror!
Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee!
Macbeth, Lennox:
What’s the matter?
Macduff:
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o’ th’ building.
Macbeth:
What is’t you say? the life?
Lennox:
Mean you his majesty?
Macduff:
Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak.
See, and then speak yourselves.
(Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox.)