Category: rated-4

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Question #14

Who is the porter pretending to be as he answers the knock at the gate?





Please enter the first three words of a sentence that shows your answers is correct.

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Question #6

Macbeth says:

"You know your own degrees, sit down: at first
And last the hearty welcome."
Act 3, Scene 4, Lines 1–2

What does "degrees" mean in this sentence?





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Act 4, page 1

Table of Contents

ACT 4, SCENE 2
Setting: Fife. Macduff's castle.

[Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS]

LADY MACDUFF What had he done, to make him fly the land?
ROSS You must have patience, madam.
LADY MACDUFF He had none:
His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.
ROSS You know not
Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
LADY MACDUFF Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His mansion and his titles in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight, 10
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.
ROSS My dearest coz,
I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o' the season. I dare not speak
much further;
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors
And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, 20
But float upon a wild and violent sea
Each way and move. I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!
LADY MACDUFF Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
ROSS I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:
I take my leave at once.
[Exit]
LADY MACDUFF Sirrah, your father's dead; 30
And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son As birds do, mother.
LADY MACDUFF What, with worms and flies?
Son With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
LADY MACDUFF Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
The pitfall nor the gin.
Son Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
My father is not dead, for all your saying.
LADY MACDUFF Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?
Son Nay, how will you do for a husband?
LADY MACDUFF Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. 40
Son Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
LADY MACDUFF Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
With wit enough for thee.
Son Was my father a traitor, mother?
LADY MACDUFF Ay, that he was.
Son What is a traitor?
LADY MACDUFF Why, one that swears and lies.
Son And be all traitors that do so?
LADY MACDUFF Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. 50
Son And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?
LADY MACDUFF Every one.
Son Who must hang them?
LADY MACDUFF Why, the honest men.
Son Then the liars and swearers are fools,
for there are liars and swearers enow to beat
the honest men and hang up them.
LADY MACDUFF Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
But how wilt thou do for a father? 60
Son If he were dead, you'ld weep for
him: if you would not, it were a good sign
that I should quickly have a new father.
LADY MACDUFF Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!
[Enter a Messenger]
Messenger Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage; 70
To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
I dare abide no longer.
[Exit]
LADY MACDUFF Whither should I fly?
I have done no harm. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world; where to do harm
Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say I have done no harm?
[Enter Murderers]
What are these faces?
First Murderer Where is your husband? 80
LADY MACDUFF I hope, in no place so unsanctified
Where such as thou mayst find him.
First Murderer He's a traitor.
Son Thou liest, thou shag–hair'd villain!
First Murderer What, you egg!
[Stabbing him]
Young fry of treachery!
Son He has kill'd me, mother:
Run away, I pray you!
[Dies]

[Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt Murderers, following her ]

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Act 2, page 3

Table of Contents

ACT 2, SCENE 3
Setting: The same.

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.
[Knocking within.] 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.
[Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Who's there,
in th'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.
[Knocking within.] 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 within.]
Knock, knock; never at quiet! What are you?
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.
But this place is too cold for hell. [Knocking within.]
Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the 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?
Porter Faith sir, we were carousing till the second cock: and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
MACDUFF 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.
MACDUFF I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. 42
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 awaked him; here he comes.
LENNOX Good morrow, noble sir.
MACBETH Good morrow, both.
MACDUFF Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
MACBETH Not yet. 50
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
LENNOX Goes the king hence to–day?
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, 60
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.
MACBETH Twas a rough night.
LENNOX My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it.
Re–enter MACDUFF.
MACDUFF O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
Cannot conceive nor name thee!
MACBETH
What's the matter. 70
LENNOX
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!
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
Awake, awake!
Ring the alarum–bell. Murder and treason!
Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! 80
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.
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!
MACDUFF O gentle lady,
Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition, in a woman's ear, 91
Would murder as it fell.
Enter BANQUO.
O Banquo, Banquo,
Our royal master 's murder'd!
LADY MACBETH Woe, alas!
What, in our house?
BANQUO Too cruel any where.
Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
And say it is not so.
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 100
Is left this vault to brag of.
Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN.
DONALBAIN What is amiss?
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.
MACDUFF Your royal father 's murder'd.
MALCOLM O, by whom?
LENNOX Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
Their hands and faces were an badged with blood;
So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
Upon their pillows:
They stared, and were distracted; no man's life 110
Was to be trusted with them.
MACBETH O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
That I did kill them.
MACDUFF Wherefore did you so?
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, 120
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?
LADY MACBETH Help me hence, ho!
MACDUFF Look to the lady.
MALCOLM Aside to DONALBAIN. Why do we hold our tongues,
That most may claim this argument for ours?
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.
MALCOLM Aside to DONALBAIN. Nor our strong sorrow
Upon the foot of motion. 130
BANQUO Look to the lady:
LADY MACBETH is carried out.
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.
MACDUFF And so do I.
ALL So all.
MACBETH Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' the hall together.
ALL Well contented. 140
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.
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.
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, 150
But shift away: there's warrant in that theft
Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.
Exeunt.

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Act 4, page 2

Table of Contents

ACT 4, SCENE 3
Setting: England. Before the King's palace.

[Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF]

MALCOLM Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.
MACDUFF Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
Bestride our down–fall'n birthdom: each new morn
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolour.
MALCOLM What I believe I'll wail,
What know believe, and what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will. 10
What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;
but something
You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom
To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb
To appease an angry god.
MACDUFF I am not treacherous.
MALCOLM But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil
In an imperial charge. But I shall crave
your pardon; 20
That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
MACDUFF I have lost my hopes.
MALCOLM Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
Without leave–taking? I pray you,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, 30
Whatever I shall think.
MACDUFF Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou
thy wrongs;
The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich East to boot.
MALCOLM Be not offended:
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash 40
Is added to her wounds: I think withal
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here from gracious England have I offer
Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before,
More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.
MACDUFF What should he be?
MALCOLM It is myself I mean: in whom I know 50
All the particulars of vice so grafted
That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
With my confineless harms.
MACDUFF Not in the legions
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
In evils to top Macbeth.
MALCOLM I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name: but there's no bottom, none, 60
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my lust, and my desire
All continent impediments would o'erbear
That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
Than such an one to reign.
MACDUFF Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may 70
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough: there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclined.
MALCOLM With this there grows
In my most ill–composed affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
Desire his jewels and this other's house: 80
And my more–having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.
MACDUFF This avarice
Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
Than summer–seeming lust, and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.
Of your mere own: all these are portable,
With other graces weigh'd. 90
MALCOLM But I have none: the king–becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them, but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
MACDUFF O Scotland, Scotland! 100
MALCOLM If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
I am as I have spoken.
MACDUFF Fit to govern!
No, not to live. O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody–scepter'd,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed,
And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, 110
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
Thy hope ends here!
MALCOLM Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
From over–credulous haste: but God above 120
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,
At no time broke my faith, would not betray
The devil to his fellow and delight
No less in truth than life: my first false speaking 130
Was this upon myself: what I am truly,
Is thine and my poor country's to command:
Whither indeed, before thy here–approach,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
Already at a point, was setting forth.
Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?
MACDUFF Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
Tis hard to reconcile.
[Enter a Doctor]
MALCOLM Well; more anon.––Comes the king forth, I pray you? 140
Doctor Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
That stay his cure: their malady convinces
The great assay of art; but at his touch––
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand––
They presently amend.
MALCOLM I thank you, doctor.
[Exit Doctor]
MACDUFF What's the disease he means?
MALCOLM Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here–remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely–visited people, 150
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.
[Enter ROSS]
MACDUFF See, who comes here?
MALCOLM My countryman; but yet I know him not. 160
MACDUFF My ever–gentle cousin, welcome hither.
MALCOLM I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
The means that makes us strangers!
ROSS Sir, amen.
MACDUFF Stands Scotland where it did?
ROSS Alas, poor country!
Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell 170
Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying or ere they sicken.
MACDUFF O, relation
Too nice, and yet too true!
MALCOLM What's the newest grief?
ROSS That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:
Each minute teems a new one.
MACDUFF How does my wife?
ROSS Why, well.
MACDUFF And all my children?
ROSS Well too.
MACDUFF The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
ROSS No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.
MACDUFF But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't? 180
ROSS When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out;
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I saw the tyrant's power a–foot:
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
To doff their dire distresses.
MALCOLM Be't their comfort
We are coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; 190
An older and a better soldier none
That Christendom gives out.
ROSS Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But I have words
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch them.
MACDUFF What concern they?
The general cause? or is it a fee–grief
Due to some single breast?
ROSS No mind that's honest
But in it shares some woe; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.
MACDUFF If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 200
ROSS Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
That ever yet they heard.
MACDUFF Hum! I guess at it.
ROSS Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
To add the death of you.
MALCOLM Merciful heaven!
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'er–fraught heart and bids it break. 210
MACDUFF My children too?
ROSS Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.
MACDUFF And I must be from thence!
My wife kill'd too?
ROSS I have said.
MALCOLM Be comforted:
Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.
MACDUFF He has no children. All my pretty ones?
Did you say all? O hell–kite! All?
What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop?
MALCOLM Dispute it like a man.
MACDUFF I shall do so; 220
But I must also feel it as a man:
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!
MALCOLM Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
MACDUFF O, I could play the woman with mine eyes 230
And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
Cut short all intermission; front to front
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!
MALCOLM This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may:
The night is long that never finds the day. 240
[Exeunt]