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.
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