stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. 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. Is thy master stirring? Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes. Good morrow, noble sir. Good morrow, both. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? Not yet. He did command me to call timely on him: I have almost slipp'd the hour. I'll bring you to him. I know this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet 'tis one. The labour we delight in physics pain. This is the door. I'll make so bold to call, For 'tis my limited service. Goes the king hence to-day? He does: he did appoint so. 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. 'Twas a rough night. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee! What's the matter. 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! What is 't you say? the life? Mean you his majesty? Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves. 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. What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? speak, speak! 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. O Banquo, Banquo, Our royal master 's murder'd! Woe, alas! What, in our house?