Speak no more. And, while we’re at it, please don’t steal the props, grope the performers or canoodle in dark corners.

So asks the cast of “Sleep No More,” the sleeper hit of the season. Based ever so loosely on “Macbeth,” this mostly mimed, site-specific production from Britain’s Punchdrunk theater is playing to sold-out crowds through Labor Day.

And while any live performance is an act of trust, Punchdrunk asks even more of its audience members: Not only are they to stay silent and check their bags at the door, but they’re made to wear “Scream”-like masks while pursuing the cast through 100 dimly lit rooms of a Chelsea warehouse.

Neither that nor the $95 ticket price have deterred repeat visitors like Kevin Cafferty, who’s seen the show four times in Boston (where it previously played, at $45 a ticket) and six times in New York, and Emily Spiegelman (eight times in Boston, twice in New York).

“It became this weird addiction,” Spiegelman says. “How much can I uncover?”

That said, the troupe hopes you’ll curb your enthusiasm.

“A couple of guys came in wearing capes and holding magic wands and running around like crazy, touching things as if they’ve never experienced the sense of touch before,” says Kristi Artinian, who heads the team of black-clad security people called stewards.

It’s their job, she says, to keep everyone safe while upholding the show’s “aesthetic.”

That meant preventing a man from trying to open a locked door with his credit card.

“There’s an air-conditioning unit back there,” Artinian told him. “It’s not a magic room!”

Weekend audiences tend to be rowdier, staffers say. Now and then, exhausted and sometimes inebriated theatergoers — there’s a bar where they can doff their masks and have a drink — have fallen into the show’s beds and couches to snooze.

“We had a fellow come in one night who crawled into a coffin and fell asleep for 20 minutes,” Artinian says. He then lay face-down in a dentist’s chair; since his fellow theatergoers couldn’t see his mask, they didn’t know whether he was part of the show: “They’d come in, poke him and freak out.”

Other folks get frisky.

“The environment can be fairly seductive,” concedes house manager John O’Malley, who’s caught a few couples — inspired by the low lighting, sporadic nudity and sultry soundtrack — trying to get it on.

They are discouraged, he says. So are those who get hands-on with the actors.

“There’s a difference between interactive theater and immersive theater, which is what this is,” says Paul Singh, who, stripped down and wearing only a ram’s head, found himself being vigorously groped.

“It does seem unfair that we get to touch you, but we’ve had training — we know how to do it safely,” he says. Those who overstep are literally unmasked, making them easy to evict.

So please, don’t squeeze the Macduffs, though some can’t resist patting Lady Macduff’s pregnant belly.

“One woman followed me for a long time into a scene where I’m supposed to drink poisoned milk, but she kept taking the milk away,” says Alli Ross, who plays the role. “I thought, Wow! She gets the story, but we need that structure!” Ross finally wrestled the milk away and the scene continued.

Some theatergoers get more than they bargained for. A strobe-lit orgy scene ended with a spattering of stage blood on a woman’s $260 Maison Martin Margiela white shirt.

“There’s a moment when your suspension of disbelief is thrown off by the fact you’re covered in some unknown substance,” she says, wryly. It turned out to be chocolate sauce mixed with laundry detergent; the company’s promised to pay her dry-cleaning bill.

Those who need a break from the action can unmask and chill in the bar — but even that can get tricky.

O’Malley, the house manager, says he was about to call an ambulance after the staff discovered a man sitting motionless by the bar. One person after another asked him if he was all right, but he said nothing.

Only when O’Malley pried the wineglass from his hand did the man spring to life.

“Sir, we were worried about you,” O’Malley sputtered. “We thought you were having a stroke!”

The man shrugged. “They told us not to speak.”