He hears a lot of knocking, likening his job to that of the gatekeeper of hell, joking around that this much knocking would be heard by him as well.

The Porter exclaims "who's there? What in the devil's name!" He imagines a farmer, coming just in time, to whom he gives handkerchief.

Next, the Porter imagines being visited by an equivocator (a person who speaks ambiguously or doesn't tell the whole truth). He is saying this man is a liar and is treasonous. One cannot lie to God.

Then, the Porter thinks he encounters an English tailor. He thinks he skimps on his material, substituting cheap clothing for expensive. He thinks he also is an equivocator.

He feels the place is too cold, and thus can't be hell. He bids farewell to his time there.

Porter

Here's a knocking indeed! If a

man were porter of hell-gate, he should have

old turning the key.

Knock,

knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of

Beelzebub? 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.

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.

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; 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.

Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.

Opens the gate.