Ban.
So half-and-half a day I never met.

Macb.
A mixture of Scotch hail and heavy wet.

Ban.
I told you when we started, my fine feller,
'Twas wise to bring the family umbreller.

Macb.
You will allow me to observe, my pippin,
You get it's shelter, and I get it's drippin'. (The Witches come forward)

1st Witch.
Cross the poor gipsey's hand, my valiant soldier.

2nd Witch.
My noble sportsmen, have your fortune told yer.

3rd Witch.
That pretty gentleman will sure be fortunate.

1st Witch.
A blue-eyed lady loves you.

Ban.
There—no more.
Egypt's dark daughter has become a bore.

Macb.
Say, rather, Egypt's mummy—by the dress,
Of doubtful sex. (To Witches) What are ye?

Witches.
Can't you guess?

Macb.
You should be women, but I never saw
One who wore whiskers and a beard before;
And long among the fair sex might I seek
For one who shewed so little bare-faced cheek.
A lady in your likeness would be jeered,

Unless as a Daguerrotype by Beard.
A Newgate “fringe” infringes on our rights.
What are ye, hideous fair ones, gentle frights?

Witches. (bridling up)
Well, I am sure!

Ban.
My friends, don't heed his ravings,
He seems a deal bored with your little shavings.

1st Witch.
Hail, Thane of Glamis!

2nd Witch.
Thane of Cawdor, hail!

3rd Witch.
Macbeth by perseverance shall not fail
To be the King of Scotland!

All.
Hail! hail! hail!

Macb.
what mean these salutations, noble Thane?

Ban.
These showers of “hail” anticipate your reign

Macb. (to Witches)
Young woman, do you see aught in my eye
That smacks at all of verdure, that you try
To gammon me? I'm far too old a bird
Thus to be caught with chaff—it's too absurd.
In what the first fair creature says, no harm is,—
By Sinel's death, I know I'm Thane of Glamis;
But this fact is in my digestion sticking—
The Thane of Cawdor is alive—and kicking—
A jovial old cove:—and to be King!
I'm sure I never dreamt of such a thing.

Ban. (to Witches)
Excuse me, ladies—ain't you going it?
My lot now,—I don't care much for knowing it;
For, as for reading fortunes in the stars,
Men all have the same mother-planet—Ma's,—
Suckled alike in the same “Milky way,”
And born to trouble;—so, what you may say
Won't overwhelm me much with fear or hope,—
To cope with horrors is man's horos-cope!
With nonsense, therefore, don't attempt to cram one,
And, as you'd save your bacon, spare your gammon.

Witches.
Thou shall get kings, though thou thyself be none!

Ban.
Oh, stuff and fiddlesticks!

Macb. (aside)
I'm diddled—done!
Don't go, young women, till you've said from whence
You owe this very strange intelligence:
For, in an intellectual point of view,

We don't look for intelligence in you.
D'ye think that we don't know the time of day
That on this blasted heath you stop our way?
Answer! I'll send you, if you don't soon speak,
Upon a flying visit to next week! (Witches vanish, R. H.)
They're vanished!

Ban.
I'm sorry this you troubles;—
The earth, Sir, like the water, has its bubbles. Enter Rosse R.H.

Rosse.
Macbeth, the King has sent me as you see,
To wish you joy of this great victory.
He says he knows you're a right-down good chap—
For hardest blows don't care the smallest rap—
At sight of swords and bayonets don't stick—
And stand a mortar like a regular brick;—
He bids me, therefore, hail you Cawdor's Thane!

Macb.
Good gracious me! why, there it is again!
It's very queer! Why, Banquo, did you ever?

Ban.
I confidently may affirm, I never!

Macb.
Upon my life, the King is very kind!
Glamis aud Cawdor! (aside) The greatest is behind.
It Chance insists upon my regal sway,
Why, Chance may crown me—that's all I've to say! (stands abstracted)

Ban. (to Rosse)
By those weird ladies' strange announcements trapped,
He seems quite struck.

Rosse.
Yes—I observe he's rapt.

Ban.
New honours come upon men like new shoes to them—
Cramping them dreadfully till they grow used to them.
So have I seen the ball-room maiden's fixes
To don a pair of Houbigaut's ‘short sixes.’
Severe the struggle, but, the thumb once passed,
They fit as easy as a glove at last! (slaps Macbeth on the shoulder—he starts)
Come, let's be moving!

Macb.
How you made me start!

Ban.
Let's start together, then.

Macb.
With all my heart!

Rosse.
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

Mac.
I will attend you with a deal of pleasure.
March, there! (aside) Those witches! What on earth could bring em? (aloud)
Advance your standards!...Banquo, hoist the gingham!

Trio—“Auld Lang Syne.”—Rob Roy. Ban.
Let those old quaint 'uns go to pot,
  Nor e'er be brought to mind;
To rest content with what you've got,
  Best policy you'll find! Macb.
Can these old quaint 'uns be forgot,
  E'en were I so inclined,
Who told me two good things? (aside) I wot
  The greatest is behind! Rosse.
I can't stop talking any more;
  Come—else the King you'll find
Blame you, who ne'er fell short before,
  For falling short behind! (Ensemble—Chorus—and exeunt arm-in-arm, under the umbrella, R. SCENE II. —A Chamber in the Palace—Trumpet. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donaldbain, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants, R., meeting Macbeth, Banquo, and Rosse, L,

Dun.
Noble Macbeth, to this heart let me fold yer.
We've just now heard all from a bloody soldier,
Who said you skewered M'Donald through and through.
Sir, you're a trump, and, Banquo, so are you.
The joy within us, friends, like steam, is pent,

And we must bust if we can't give it vent!
How to give utterance to what we feel
We know not,—'spose we cotton to a reel? AIR—“Jim Crow,” to which Macbeth, Banquo, and Rosse dance a reel at back—Duncan dances fantastically by himself in front.

Dun.
That dance has gi'en our appetite a whet,
And made us precious dry. Go, some one, get
A pot of half-and-half. Stay, (to Macbeth) how far hence
Do you hang out? We'll dine at your expense.
What says Macbeth? You see, we're self-invited.

Macb.
Lady Macbeth, I'm sure, will be delighted.
We lodge at No. 3, in the next street.

Dun.
We'll pick a bone.

Macb.
An' your highness think it meet.

Dun.
Put 't to the vote,—say how the ballot goes.

Ban.
The “Ayes,” my lord, are precious near the “Noes.”

Dun.
Oh! blow the “Noes!” (to Macbeth) Sir, dine with you we will;
We like to get a chop without a bill.
But mind, for dainties we don't care a butto

Macb.
We've in the house some excellent cold mutton,
That we were going to dine off; but for you,
We'll put the house into a regular stew.
I'll fly, my lord—the modest banquet order.

Dun.
Adieu, Macbeth, our worthy Thane of Cawdor.

Macb.
To obey, my lord, I'm off like any cracker. (aside)
Stars! dowse your glims, and keep a little backer,
Lest light should show these ninnies what I'm at,
And from the bag let out my dreadful cat! Exit R.

Dun.
We've said our Royal say,—let's on. But no,—
We'll try our Royal voice before we go.

AIR—Duncan.—“Bow, wow, wow.”
Oh, we are Caledonia's king, and, matters not to mince, sirs,
We think we may assert ourselves a very pattern prince, sirs.
Now tell me true, my subjects all, d'ye think that any one can
Point out, amid the monarchs round, a jollier king than Duncan?

Chorus—Courtiers.—No, no, no! Dun.
'Cause if you can, speak out at once! Courtiers.
Oh—no, no, no!
By some I'm called a tyrant; but I'll trouble you to find, sirs,
The interest of the State neglected—where my own's combined, sirs.
Speak out—there's no compulsion, but you must—and I opine, sirs,
I ne'er yet checked a wish of yours—when it happened to be mine, sirs. Courtiers.
No, no, no! Dun.
'Cause if I did, speak out at once! Courtiers.
No, no, no! (bowing)

Ban.
Shall you lodge there, my lord, or spend the day?

Dun.
Not being Ferguson, perhaps we may. Exeunt Omnes, R. SCENE III. —Terrace of Macbeth's Castle. Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter, R.

Lady M. (reading)
“We met, 'twas on a heath, and on that day
“When victory had flushed us; really they
“Both turned our blood to curds and stopped our way;
“Sally, report has said, and I have got
“A gothic notion, they know what is what;
“They called me, dear, all manner of rum things:
“While Cawdor's title in my noddle rings,
“Would you believe it? but a flunkey brings
“The news of Cawdor's death; I have to thank
“That queer old file for giving me his rank.
“One hailed me King—I pause to wipe my eye,
“For it's affecting.—Sally, dear, good bye!
“Ever affectionately yours, till death
“Pops on his extinguisher,

“Samuel Macbeth.”

Yet will thy scruples my intentions clog;
To go at once the unadulterate hog
Is not thy nature. Thou'rt the style of buck
That has the will to sin, but not the pluck.
Come, Macbeth, let me pour into thine ears
My notions of what's what; chastise the fears
Alone impede thy sovereignty.—How now? Enter Seyton, L.
Out with thy news, and tell us,—What's the row?

Seyt.
The King comes here to-night.

Lady M.
Whence did you glean it?
The King come here? you surely cannot mean it?
If't be so, where's thy master, then—Macbeth?

Seyt.
Madam, I've nearly run myself to death,
To bring the news—indeed, I'm out of breath;
The worthy Thane comes with him.

Lady. M.
With him?—So!
Well, if that's all, why, fellow, don't you go?

Seyt. (hesitating)
Your ladyship, I've been running, and the weather
Is hot and dry; so, Madam, altogether—

Lady M.
Speak out thy errand,—wilt stand here a week?
Come to the pint at once.

Seyt.
The pint I seek
Is one of beer—I prefers half-and-half,
Which to your ladyship's best health I'd quaff;
I hope your ladyship don't think me rude.

Lady M.
You'll find, down stairs, some excellent homebrewed.
No more—now walk! Exit Seyton L.
Fiends who delight to vex,
Do me the kindness just to change my sex!
Let me no shadow of remorse now feel!
Make me a lump of guilt from head to heel!
Fulfil, I pray, this delicate request,
And add aught that your kindness may suggest,
Yet mask it all with stuff they call soft sawder.

Enter Macbeth, L.
Welcome, great Glamis!—welcome, worthy Cawdor!
Nay greater! (they embrace)

Macb.
Ducky! Duncan comes to-night
To stay and sup with us.

Lady M.
Yes, that's all right. (significantly)
When goes he hence?

Macb.
To-morrow he'll endeavour.

Lady M. (mysteriously)
Not if I knows it, Sammy—trust me, never!

Macb.
What mean you?

Lady M.
Why, at such things you a muff are!

Macb.
You wouldn't have me spifflicate the buffer?
I must think more of this.

Lady M.
Look (so thou wilt less
Suspicion rouse) particularly guiltless—
Leave all the rest to me.

Macb.
The rest? Don't fret at all;—
If I do this, no rest for me—you'll get it all.

Duet.—Air—“There's a good time coming.” Lady M.
There's a good chance coming, Sam—
  A good chance coming!
If the King comes here to-day,
We're not such flats as throw away
  The good chance coming! Macb.
But, my love, it's very wrong—
  Nothing could be wronger
Than such a thing— Lady M.
Well, hold your tongue,
  And wait a little longer! Chorus.—Repeat and exeunt R. Air—“Sich a gittin' up stairs”—Enter Duncan and Rosse, L. U. E., much out of breath—the former with a carpet-bag and umbrella.

Dun.
We're up at last, but I'm quite out of breath
In coming up so high; and where's Macbeth?

The castle's pleasant, and the prospect fair
To look upon.

Rosse.
What a delicious air
Upon the hill—

Dun.
Well, p'r'aps your right, but I,
To tell the truth, don't like my hare so high!
Ha, ha! Egad! that's not so bad a one.

Rosse.
A what, my liege?

Dun.
Of course, I mean the pun—
Hare—high,—d'ye twig?—But you don't laugh.

Rosse.
My lord,
I was just going to, upon my word! (laughs forcedly)

Dun.
Methinks your apprehension somewhat shady.
There, that'll do, you muff!—Here comes the lady. Enter Lady Macbeth, with a garden bonnet on, and a watering pot in hand, R.U.E.

Lady M.
Yo do us proud, my liege—our best attention
Can ne'er repay this awful condescension;
Though ill prepared for such a guest—

Dun.
Ne'er mind,
Madam, you're super-eminently kind.
We're quite en garçon, the rest behind us lag,
Whilst we walked forward with out carpet-bag;
And as for splendour, we don't care a pin for it,
But just dropped in—

Lady M. (aside)
Egad! you've just dropped in for it. (aloud)
My Lord, the best our poor house can supply
Is at your highness' service.

Dun.
By the bye,
Forgive me—but to-night a berth Macbeth
Has promised.

Lady M. (aside)
Yes, your berth will be your death! (aloud)
So please you, I'll go see the feast prepared,
And mind your royal highness' bed's well aired! Exit R.

Dun.
We follow, Marm— (he is impeded by the carpet-bag and umbrella)
I say, Rosse, my good feller,
Just lend a hand here with this curst umbrella! Exeunt R.

SCENE IV. —A Gallery of the Castle—folding doors C.—doors R. and L. Enter Lady Macbeth, with a candle in her hand, followed by Duncan, C.

Duet.—Air—“Truandaise.” Dun.
Well, Ma'am, here I am—
  And, to tell no lies of it,
We feel—dead beat—
  That's about the size of it. Lady M.
Then, Sire, to retire,
  Perhaps to rest were wise, if it
Should suit your royal highness' gracious pleasure! Dun.
Yes!
  The night is—wettish—
    And likely to be riotous,
  Yet we—must be—
    Up early; so, to quiet us,
  Kind friend, pray send
    Some gruel, or such diet as
A treacle posset, or of arrowroot a mess! (they dance to the air, a Pas de Fascination)

Dun.
Good night, good hostess—think on what we've said. Exit R.

Lady M.
You'll get your gruel—when you've gone to bed! Exit L. A Servant, with a tray, on which are oysters and porter, passes over L. to R. Enter Macbeth—he suddenly sees the Servant, brings him down the stage, drinks, swallows an oyster, and motions him off—Servant exits L.H.

Macb.
If done at all, the sooner such a thing
Is done, the better.—But to kill a king
In this off-hand way's rather a rum go,
Or, as the French say, hardly “comme il faut.”

First, I'm his kinsman, in a sort of way;
(How many times removed, I cannot say;)
Then, for a host, you know, to slay his lodger
Ain't quite the thing—and such a rare old codger
Is Duncan, on his breath to put a stopper,
I fear me, won't be looked upon as proper.
The subject's rather difficult to handle.

Duncan is heard to bawl without—
I'll thank you to bring up my chamber candle;
From Glamis' Thane you can a night-cap borrow;
And call me, please, at seven o'clock to-morrow.
I'll leave my boots outside. (Noise of boots dropping)

Macb.
Alas! poor feller!

Dun. (without)
Dry at the kitchen fire my umbereller.

Macb.
This misplaced confidence—too soon he'll rue it! Enter Lady Macbeth, L.

Lady M.
The old boy's a-bed, and now's your time to do it!

Macb.
I'm out of sorts—I feel a kind of dizziness,
And won't proceed no further in this business.

Lady M.
What! give it up?

Macb.
To tell the truth, I'm loath
To stop the old man's wizen.

Lady M.
But your oath?
You're bold enough when there's no danger nigh—
When once it comes, then you're for “fighting shy.”

Macb.
I dare do all that may a man become.

Dady M.
To an oath once made you should stick fast—by Gum!
If t's not from cowardice you keep aloof,
Strike off the prince, and let me have a proof!

Song—Lady Macbeth.—Air—“Jeanette and Jeannot.”
You ain't going for to slay, for to slay the old King yet—
But I recommend you do it now, for fear you should forget;
For I see with half an eye, you haven't half a mind to go;—
Can you look me, Sammy, in the face, and say it is not so?

When you near the turn-up bedstead whereupon the old cock's laid,
I fear you'll quite forget the valiant promise you have made;
With your hand upon his shoulder, and your dagger in his side,
You'll be taking some rum fancies, and yet leave the job untried.
You'll be taking, &c.

Macb.
Suppose the King disposed of—yet, my dear,
It seems my next course isn't over clear,—
Malcolm, my cousin, nine times removed, or so!
I'm in a fix—I fear it is no go!

Lady M.
Nine times removed already! Then it's plain
It can't hurt him to remove him once again!
Macbeth, pluck up a little courage—do man!

Macb.
Who would believe you were a female woman?
We shall be sorry for it!

Lady M.
For a warrior,
I may say that I never saw a sorrier!
Can you have sought in battle, undismayed,
So often the affray, to be afraid?

Macb.
Egad! I'll do it!

Lady M,
Why do you turn so pale?

Macb.
An awkward thought's just struck me—should we fail?

Lady M.
Fail? Stuff and nonsense! Fail? Your courage screw
But to the sticking-place, and we shall do.
Come—“if you die a pantile, be a brick!”

Macb.
The sticking-place is the place where I stick

Lady M.
Duncan's attendants are so full of beer,
They'll be quite muddled, that is very clear;
When they're asleep, bedaub their faces o'er—

Macb.
With blood? I understand. Oh my! oh lor!
Is this a clasp-knife, such as ploughboys use
For cutting bread and cheese?—You'll me excuse,
Perhaps you're but a clasp-knife of the brain! (snatches at it)
Egad! I missed it. There it is again.
And on 'ts blade gouts of—No—the maker's name,

Which was not there before! It's all a sham! (Clock strikes two) (starts)
Bless me! what's that? It gave me such a shock!

Lady M.
It's plain to me you don't know what's o'clock;
It's just struck two.

Macb.
How fast the time has run!
My hand is only on the stroke of one!

SONG—Lady Macbeth. Air—“Lucy Neal.”
Softly slip your shoes off,
  Soft to the chamber steal: Exit Macbeth, R.H.
When Duncan finds you by his side.
  How happy he will feel!
But soft!—he is about it!—
  I thought I heard a squeal:
Now Duncan has it in his side,
  How happy he must feel! Re-enter Macbeth, with daggers—his face white, his hands red.

Lady M.
Is 't done, my husband? What's the matter now?

Macb.
I've done the deed!—didn't you hear the row?
I stumbled (where I hadn't seen them standing)
Over the old boy's bluchers, on the landing.
You heard it?

Lady M.
No one else did.

Macb.
That's all right.
But just look here—this is a sorry sight. (Looking at his hands)

Lady M.
Pshaw! stuff!

Macb.
One sung out in his sleep—how soon,
I fear, he'll sing to quite another tune!
They were both beery,—one declared outright
He'd no intention to go home that night,
And, as in hideous mockery of the scene,
Added, in hiccups, it was “all serene!”
The other, in no high state of sobriety,
Heedless of manners, sung out, “Tulla-li-ety!”
I couldn't echo it—“What was amiss?”

Lady M.
Oh! nonsense now—you mustn' think of this.

Macb.
How much more need of joyousness had I, yet he
Sung, and I couldn't echo, “Tulla-li-ety!”

Lady M.
Why did you bring those daggers from their places?
Go, take them back, and smear the sleepers' faces
With blood.

Macb. (doggedly)
No: come, you know, I've done one murder;
That's quite enough, and I sha'n't go no furder.

Lady M.
Don't leave the job unfinished, come now, don't;
Go.

Macb.
If I do, I'm—Never mind, I won't!

Lady M.
Be mine the task, since you the courage lack.
Give me the daggers. I shall soon be back! Exit R.

Macb. (solus)
Were all the waters of the Serpentine
With those of the New River to combine—
Were e'en the potent Thames to lend its aid,
And Regent Park's canal—I am afraid,
Failing to wash from off my hands this gore,
They'd make red what mud-coloured was before Re-enter Lady Macbeth—her hands red.

Lady M.
My hands are like yours—p'r'aps a little redder. (Loud Knocking)
I thought I heard a knock;—we'd best to bed.

Macb.
Ah!
And not to lose the public's good opinion—

Lady M.
We'll red our eyebrows with a Spanish inion. (Knocking repeated)

DUET.—Air—“Who's dat knocking at de dor?” Macb,
Who's that knocking at the door? (Knock) Lady M.
Who's that knocking at the door? (Knock) Macb.
  I don't care a pin,
  He sha'n't come in. Lady M.
  Our hands are not clean,
  So he can't come in!

Both.
Whoever is a-knocking at the door, at the door?
  Whoever is a-knocking at the door? (Loud Knocking)

Macb.
There's certainly a knock—let's in to rest;
All's safe—a host won't be a murderer guessed. Exeunt L. Knocking.—A Porter passes across the stage, L. to C., rubbing his eyes, and yawning, as just awake. Enter Macduff, the Porter following, from C.D.

Macd.
I hope you've kept me long enough, before
You condescended to unbar the door.
What ails the porter, that he can't appear!

Port.
It's not the porter's fault—it was the beer;
I drank too freely; besides, I am so stout,
It takes me some time, Sir, to get about.

Macd,
I have to call the King—fetch me a light,—
His room?

Port.
Upstairs, the first door on your right. Exit Macduff, R.
And now to sleep again—we've work to-morrow,
Should the King stay. (going) Macduff rushes on R.

Macd.
Oh! horror! horror! horror
A hideous sight—tongue cannot name nor tell!
Alarm the house, and ring the upstairs bell! Porter goes to back, and rings vigorously) Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Banquo, Malcolm, Donalbain, Rosse, Lenox, and Attendants, on all sides, in great confusion, with night dresses and nightcaps on, and with lighted chamber candles in their hands—they surround Macduff, and sing

Chorus—‘Out, John.” (First Part.)
How, Sir—how, Sir!
What's the matter now, Sir?
For goodness' sake, speak out at once,
And tell us what's the row, Sir!

Macd.
Oh, Sirs—oh, Sirs!
Here's a heavy blow, Sirs,
Has fallen on our country and
The Princes! Here's a go, Sirs! The rest.
Well, Sir—well, Sir!
Is anybody ill, Sir?
Why do you bring us all down stairs
In this here dishabille, Sirs? Macd.
He's dead, Sirs—dead, Sirs!
Horrid to be said, Sirs,
While we were fast asleep, the King
Was murdered in his bed, Sirs! (general consternation) Chorus.
Oh, Sirs—oh, Sirs!
Here's a heavy blow, Sirs,
Has fallen on our sountry and
The Princes! Here's a go, Sirs!

Macb.
What! Royal Duncan murdered? You don't mean it!

Macd.
I'd not believe it, if I hadn't seen it. Macbeth draws, and exit R. (to Malcolm)
Oh, Princes, you have lost your Royal Dad

Lady M.
And in our house, too! Oh, this is too bad (faints into Banquo's arms)

Malc.
Our bark of happiness no longer floats! Re-enter Macbeth, with drawn sword, R.

Macb.
Well, never mind—I've cut the villains' throats!
I almost do repent me of my fury,
And know the case was matter for a jury.

Macd.
You didn't kill them?

Macb.
Though my rage be chid.
I've a persuasion that I rather did.
But if you doubt about the rogues infernal,
Their last account read in that chamber's journal! (pointing off R.)
I can restrain myself when any one can;
But here at full length lay the Royal Duncan,
Dead as a herring, door-nail, or a hammer!

Malc.
D'ye mean to stuff us?

Macb.
Sir, I scorn a crammer!
There lay the grooms, where sleep and crime had linked them.
Crimsoned with blood, even before I'd pinked them!

Chorus—“Robert le Diable.” Chorus.
Our grief and sorrow within compass,
  We can't keep—our tears must flow.
Oh, crikey! won't there be a rumpus,
  When poor Duncan's fate they know. They dance the accompaniment—Macbeth and Lady Macbeth exchange glances and signs with each other. Chorus.
Who could have had a heart so cruel?— Macb.
Ah! who could? I should like to know— Chorus.
As to give the King his gruel?
  Who could strike the coward blow. Dance. Chorus repeated.
Our grief and sorrow, &c. Dance as before; at the conclusion of which, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Banquo, and Macduff fall into the attitudes in the “Pas de Quatre”—Lady Macbeth, C., crosses her arms over her breast; the other Characters form a Tableau. END OF ACT THE FIRST.

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