If that's original, have a cheroot.
I had never heard of Ian McDiarmid but in the Beforetimes he must have been a real actor. Royal Shakespeare Company aint playin'.
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Macbeth Act II, Scene 3
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.
(Knock.) Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there, i’
th’ name of Beelzebub? Here’s a farmer that hanged
himself on th’ expectation of plenty. Come in time!
Have napkins enough about you; here you’ll sweat
for ’t.
(Knock.) 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
. (Knock.) 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. (Knock.) 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 th’ everlasting bonfire.
(Knock.)
Anon, anon!
The Porter opens the door to Macduff and Lennox.
I pray you, remember the porter.
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.
PORTER That it did, sir, i’ th’ 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.
Porter exits.
* I never understood this one before. Attendez vous:
The English tailor is a perennial, albeit less topical figure of mockery in the period. Tailors were assumed to be thieves, trusted with expensive cloth which they then skimped on, stealing the offcuts, or surreptitiously doubling over fabric when cutting out so that they cut twice as much and stole even more.
French hose here are probably baggy, meaning that there would be potentially more to steal.
Another part of the joke is that English men were thought to have no native fashions, but rather to steal from every other nation, hence the English tailor making breeches in the fashionable French style.
A tailor’s hell was the basket or other container under the table on which he sat cross-legged to sew, into which he threw offcuts and scraps, stolen or not, for reuse.
The goose that he will roast is a small pressing iron, the sort that might be used for pressing flat a seam or a facing.
But a goose is also a prostitute (and the lymphatic swelling associated with syphilis), the tailor the tail for female genitalia, and the hose the male.
And that, boys and girls, is why Bill's a genius while the rest of us are kumquats. Six nested puns, allusions, and dirty jokes all in one tiny line which hitherto I barely even heard let alone comprehended.
Anyone who tells you humans are not worthy of saving, just remember Bill. He may be the only reason to save us, but he was in the universe, and we are he. We contain promise.