LENNOX. The night has been unruly: where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down and, as they say, Lamentings heard i’ th’ air, strange screams of death, And prophesying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion and confus’d events, New hatch’d to the woeful time. The obscure bird Clamour’d the live-long 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.

Enter Macduff.

MACDUFF. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee!

MACBETH, LENNOX. What’s the matter?