'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—
Never in quiet.
Who are you? but this place is too cold for hell.
I'll devil-porter it no longer. I had thought
T'have let in some of all professions,
That go the primrose-path to th' everlasting darkness.
The alterations I propose are very slight. Upon for on, i'faith for 'faith, and the introduction of the word one in a place where it is required. The succeeding dialogue is also in blank verse. So is the sleeping scene of Lady Macbeth; and that so palpably, that I wonder it could ever pass for prose.