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.

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