Macbeth Act 2 Scene 3
The same. Dawn.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Knocking within. Enter a Porter.
Porter
Here's a knocking indeed! If a
man were porter of hell-gate, he should have
old turning the key.
Porter
Now THAT is some knocking! If a man
were the doorman of hell's gate, he'd be
turning this key nonstop.
Knocking within.
Porter
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.
Porter
Knock,
knock, knock! Who's there, in the name of
Beelzebub? Ah — a farmer who hanged himself
because he hoarded grain betting on high prices, and then the harvest was good. Come in —
right on time! Bring plenty of handkerchiefs;
you'll sweat for it down here.
Knocking within.
Porter
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.
Porter
Knock,
knock! Who's there, in the other devil's name?
Well, well — a professional double-talker, who could
swear both sides of any argument,
who committed plenty of treason in God's name,
but couldn't talk his way into heaven. Oh, come in,
double-talker.
Knocking within.
Porter
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.
Porter
Knock,
knock, knock! Who's there? An English tailor,
here for skimming fabric off
tight French pants. Come in, tailor — you can
heat your iron in here. (A 'goose' is a tailor's iron. Yes, it's a pun. No, they weren't all winners.)
Knocking within.
Porter
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.
Porter
Knock,
knock — never a moment's peace! Who are you? ... Actually,
this place is too cold to be hell. I'm done playing
devil's doorman. The plan was to admit one of every
profession that skips down the flower-lined path
to the everlasting bonfire.
Knocking within.
Porter
Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
Porter
Coming, coming! And please — remember to tip your porter.
Opens the gate. Enter Macduff and Lennox.
Macduff
Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
That you do lie so late?
Macduff
Did you get to bed so late, friend,
that you're sleeping in this late?
Porter
'Faith sir, we were carousing till the
second cock: and drink, sir, is a great
provoker of three things.
Porter
Honestly, sir, we were partying until the rooster's
second crow. And drink, sir, is a great
provoker of three things.
Macduff
What three things does drink especially provoke?
Macduff
And what three things does drink especially provoke?
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.
Porter
Why, sir: a red nose, sleep, and
urine. As for lust — drink provokes it and unprovokes it:
it provokes the desire, but takes away
the performance. So you could call heavy drinking
a double-talker where lust is concerned:
it makes him and it breaks him; it fires him up
and it shuts him down; it talks him into it
and talks him out of it; gets him standing to attention
and then very much not; and in conclusion, it double-talks him
into a nap, calls him a liar, and walks out on him.
Macduff
I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
Macduff
Sounds like drink called you a liar 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.
Porter
It did, sir — right to my face. Right down my throat, even.
But I paid him back for the insult, and I think
I was too strong for him in the end: he took my legs
out from under me a few times, but I managed
to throw him. (A wrestling pun. Also, regrettably, a vomiting pun.)
Macduff
Is thy master stirring?
Macduff
Is your master up?
Enter Macbeth.
Macduff
Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes.
Macduff
Our knocking woke him. Here he comes.
Lennox
Good morrow, noble sir.
Lennox
Good morning, noble sir.
Macbeth
Good morrow, both.
Macbeth
Good morning to you both.
Macduff
Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
Macduff
Is the king awake, worthy thane?
Macbeth
Not yet.
Macbeth
Not yet.
Macduff
He did command me to call timely on him:
I have almost slipp'd the hour.
Macduff
He ordered me to wake him early —
I've nearly missed the time.
Macbeth
I'll bring you to him.
Macbeth
I'll take you to him.
Macduff
I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
But yet 'tis one.
Macduff
I know hosting him is a joyful kind of trouble —
but it's trouble all the same.
Macbeth
The labour we delight in physics pain.
This is the door.
Macbeth
Work we enjoy is its own medicine.
This is the door.
Macduff
I'll make so bold to call,
For 'tis my limited service.
Macduff
I'll take the liberty of waking him —
that's my assigned duty.
Exit Macduff.
Lennox
Goes the king hence to-day?
Lennox
Is the king leaving today?
Macbeth
He does: he did appoint so.
Macbeth
He is. That was his plan.
Lennox
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 confused 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.
Lennox
What a wild night. Where we slept,
chimneys were blown right off the roofs. And people say
wailing was heard in the air — strange screams of death —
and terrible voices prophesying
fire and chaos and disaster,
freshly hatched for these miserable times. The owl
shrieked the entire night. Some say the earth itself
ran a fever and shook.
Macbeth
'Twas a rough night.
Macbeth
It was a rough night. (The understatement of the entire seventeenth century.)
Lennox
My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it.
Lennox
I'm young, but I can't remember
anything remotely like it.
Re-enter Macduff.
Macduff
O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
Cannot conceive nor name thee!
Macduff
Horror! Horror! Horror! No tongue can name it —
no heart can even imagine it!
Macbeth
[With Lennox] What's the matter.
Macbeth
(with Lennox) What's wrong?
Macduff
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o' the building!
Macduff
Chaos has painted its masterpiece!
Sacrilegious murder has broken into
the Lord's anointed temple and stolen
the life right out of the building!
Macbeth
What is 't you say? the life?
Macbeth
What are you saying? The life?
Lennox
Mean you his majesty?
Lennox
You mean His Majesty?
Macduff
Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
See, and then speak yourselves.
Macduff
Go to the room and let the sight destroy your eyes
like a brand-new Gorgon. Don't make me describe it.
Look — and then do the talking yourselves.
Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox.
Macduff
Awake, awake!
Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself! up, up, and see
The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,
To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.
Macduff
Wake up! Wake up!
Ring the alarm bell! Murder and treason!
Banquo! Donalbain! Malcolm! Wake up!
Shake off this soft sleep — death's imitation —
and look at death itself! Up, up, and see
a preview of Judgment Day! Malcolm! Banquo!
Rise up as if from your graves and walk like ghosts —
the scene deserves nothing less! Ring the bell!
Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady Macbeth
What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!
Lady Macbeth
What's going on,
that such a hideous trumpet is summoning
everyone out of their beds? Speak! Speak!
Macduff
O gentle lady,
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition, in a woman's ear,
Would murder as it fell.
Macduff
Oh, gentle lady —
this is not news for your ears.
Just repeating it to a woman
would kill her where she stood. (He has no idea who he's talking to.)
Enter Banquo.
Macduff
O Banquo, Banquo,
Our royal master 's murder'd!
Macduff
Oh, Banquo, Banquo —
our royal master is murdered!
Lady Macbeth
Woe, alas!
What, in our house?
Lady Macbeth
Oh no!
What — in our house?
Banquo
Too cruel any where.
Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
And say it is not so.
Banquo
It would be too cruel anywhere.
Dear Duff, please, take it back —
tell me it isn't true.
Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross.
Macbeth
Had I but died an hour before this chance,
I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant,
There 's nothing serious 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.
Macbeth
If I'd only died an hour before this happened,
I'd have lived a blessed life. Because from this moment on,
nothing in this mortal life matters.
It's all toys. Honor and grace are dead.
The wine of life has been poured out, and only the dregs
are left in the cellar to brag about.
Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.
Donalbain
What is amiss?
Donalbain
What's wrong?
Macbeth
You are, and do not know't:
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
Macbeth
You are — and you don't know it yet.
The spring, the source, the fountain of your bloodline
has been stopped. Stopped at its very source.
Macduff
Your royal father 's murder'd.
Macduff
Your royal father is murdered.
Malcolm
O, by whom?
Malcolm
No — by whom?
Lennox
Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
Their hands and faces were all badged with blood;
So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
Upon their pillows:
They stared, and were distracted; no man's life
Was to be trusted with them.
Lennox
His own chamber guards, by the look of it.
Their hands and faces were smeared with blood,
and so were their daggers, which we found unwiped
on their pillows.
They just stared, completely out of their minds.
You wouldn't trust them with anyone's life.
Macbeth
O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
That I did kill them.
Macbeth
Oh — and I already regret that, in my fury,
I killed them.
Macduff
Wherefore did you so?
Macduff
Why did you do that?
Macbeth
Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
The expedition my violent love
Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
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,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make 's love known?
Macbeth
Who can be wise and stunned, calm and furious,
loyal and neutral, all in one moment? Nobody.
My violent love sprinted ahead
of my hesitating reason. There lay Duncan,
his silver skin laced with his golden blood,
his gashes like a breach in nature itself
where ruin came flooding in. And there — the murderers,
soaked in the colors of their trade, their daggers
rudely dressed in gore. Who could have held back,
if he had a heart that could love, and in that heart
the courage to prove it?
Lady Macbeth
Help me hence, ho!
Lady Macbeth
Help me out of here!
Lady Macbeth faints — or 'faints.' Scholars have argued about this for four hundred years.
Macduff
Look to the lady.
Macduff
Take care of the lady.
Malcolm
[Aside to Donalbain] Why do we hold our tongues,
That most may claim this argument for ours?
Malcolm
(quietly, to Donalbain) Why are we staying silent,
when this tragedy belongs to us more than anyone?
Donalbain
[Aside to Malcolm] What should be spoken here,
where our fate,
Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us?
Let 's away;
Our tears are not yet brew'd.
Donalbain
(quietly, to Malcolm) What could we possibly say here,
where our own death
could be hiding in any corner, ready to lunge?
Let's get out.
Our tears haven't even finished brewing.
Malcolm
[Aside to Donalbain] Nor our strong sorrow
Upon the foot of motion.
Malcolm
(quietly) And our grief is too heavy
to move yet.
Banquo
Look to the lady:
And when we have our naked frailties hid,
That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
And question this most bloody piece of work,
To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:
In the great hand of God I stand; and thence
Against the undivulged pretence I fight
Of treasonous malice.
Banquo
Take care of the lady.
And once we've covered ourselves up —
we're all half-dressed and freezing — let's meet
and investigate this bloody piece of work
properly. Fear and doubt are shaking all of us.
I take my stand in the great hand of God, and from there
I'll fight against whatever hidden treasonous plot
is behind this.
Macduff
And so do I.
Macduff
So will I.
All
So all.
All
So will we all.
Macbeth
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' the hall together.
Macbeth
Let's get dressed and armed quickly,
and meet together in the hall.
All
Well contented.
All
Agreed.
Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.
Malcolm
What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.
Malcolm
What will you do? Let's not stay with these people.
Performing grief you don't feel is a job
that liars do easily. I'm going to England.
Donalbain
To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.
Donalbain
Ireland for me. Splitting up
will keep us both safer. Around here,
there are daggers in men's smiles — and the closer the relative,
the closer the dagger.
Malcolm
This murderous shaft that's shot
Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way
Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
But shift away: there's warrant in that theft
Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.
Malcolm
The murderous arrow that's been fired
hasn't landed yet, and our safest move
is to get out of its path. So — to the horses.
Let's not be polite about goodbyes;
let's just vanish. There's nothing wrong with stealing yourself away
from a place where mercy has run out.
Exeunt.