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.

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