SCENE III.
The same.
[Enter a Porter. Knocking within.]
PORTER.
Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he
should have old turning the key. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock.
Who's there, i' the name of Belzebub? 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.] 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. [Knocking.] 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.] 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. [Knocking.] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember
the porter.
[Opens the gate.]
[Enter Macduff and Lennox.]
