Macb.
Those ladies were prophetic,—Duncan's dead.
And I as certainly reign in his stead.
To sovereignty I have shown my cousins, rather

They ain't no nearer, though they've got no Father.
And so they promised:—'Gad! but I don't see
They shouldn't be right with Banquo as with me!
A nice man in his way, but I incline,
To think he'll prove a nice young man in mine.
They told him—e'en now in my ears it rings—
He should be father of a line of kings.
If this be so, he'll be for overthrowing of
My rule, and reaping what I've had the sowing of.
I can't stand this; and since I've had the luck
To leap into the throne, no want of pluck
Shall kick me out! Shall all concisely put it—
“He scarce had got his ‘luckie’ ere he ‘cut it?’”
Perish the thought! He'll his ambition rue. Enter Two Murderers, L.
Ah! gentlemanly villains—how d'ye do?
You have considered what I said to you last night?

1st Mur.
Ay, and will do't, my Lord.

Macb.
Well, that's all right
To do it myself I shouldn't care a jot,
But, on the whole, perhaps, I'd better not.
My friends, you see, are his, and I doubt whether
They'd quite approve it,—in fact, altogether,
'Twere best you do it;—name your own reward,
And claim it when it's done.

Murderers.
Agreed, my Lord!

Macb.
He rides to-night with the boy Fleance, and
Now is your time to—Eh?—you understand? (significantly)

Murderers.
Perhaps we rather do.

Macb.
Well, come and tell
Me when 'tis done, and till 'tis done—farewell! Exeunt Murderers L.
Banquo, your bird of Michaelmas is cooked,
And, carriage free, you're by the down train booked! Enter Lady Macbeth, as Queen, R.

Lady M.
Come now, cast off this nonsense—this is folly;
Your end is now attained, so let's be jolly!

Macb.
I don't know why you this disturbance make,
You know we've only scotched the Scottish snake,
Not killed it—and that I can't sleep, nor you,
For fear that we should nap it when we do!
Reflect, my dear—Banquo and Fleance live.

Lady M.
And, pray, what trouble can this knowledge give?
Don't give way to these foolish fancies—don't;
They will not live for ever.

Macb. (significantly)
No, they won't—
I've taken care of that.

Lady M.
Mind now, at supper,
You drop this style of talk—it won't be proper;
But deck your face in smiles.

Macb.
There—that's enough.
D'ye think, my dear, that I'm not “up to snuff?”
The confidence of our guests we mustn't lose—
So mind your P's and don't forget your Q's.

Lady M.
Be witty, be amusing—don't be caught
On things a-musing which you didn't ought.

Duet.—“Midas.” Lady M.
Fears and starts are now no service
  Try to be a jolly, jolly dog,—
Each knock at the door now makes you nervous;
To conscience you must grow imperv'ous,—
  Go at once the entire hog! Macb. (doubtfully)
      Fol de riddle lol! Lady M.
      Fol de riddle lol! Both.
    Ri fol, &c. Macb.
When crime from right has power to swerve us,
  Conscience will the folly, folly dog,—
Groans and fits and starts won't serve us,
To pity we must grow imperv'ous,—
  As you say—go the whole hog.

Lady M.
      Fol de riddle lol! Macb.
      Fol de riddle lol! Both.
    Ri fol, &c. Exeunt R.H. SCENE II. —Hall of the Castle. Flourish.—A Banquet prepared.—Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, and Attendants, all sit as Macbeth speaks.

Macb.
Come, take your seats, my hearties—ne'er mind me,
I'm going to have a short soliloquy. (aside)
'Tis time 'twas done! Enter Servant, L.
Fellow, I didn't call!

Serv.
My lord, two gents a-waiting in the hall
Request a haudience.

Macb.
Why this modest shyness?
What sort of gentlemen?

Serv.
Your Royal Highness,
Two blacker muzzled rascals—

Macb.
That's enough.
They are my friends—so shew them up, you muff! Exit Servant, L. Enter Two Murderers, L.

Macb.
Well, my good-looking friends, you've done it?

1st Mur.
Rather!
We couldn't catch the son, but stuck the father.

Macb.
He's dead? that's well;—but incomplete's my joy.
You couldn't stick a little trifling boy?
This fault the deed of half its merits rifles.

1st Mur.
My lord, we're not the men to stick at trifles!
The youngster held the torch, and went before—

Macb.
Doubtless 'twas one of “Child's Night Lights” he bore.

Had he but been disposed of, I were free,—
But the young torcher lives to torture me.

1st Mur.
The boy the glimmering of my toothpick sees,
And cries—“Pa, I scent treason in the trees.”
“Come on,” says Banquo, “I don't care a curse.”
The son replies—“Go, Father, and fare worse!”

Macb.
Come, draw it mild, my hearties—you're no lispers;
They're sure to hear your very loud stage whispers:
Go on.

1st Mur.
We fixed the governor, but he
Cried—“Fleance, flee and save yourself—fly, flee!”
He ran too fast—we couldn't catch the kid.

Macb.
Humph!—Banquo you left a corse?

1st Mur.
O'course we did.

Macb.
That'll do; but mind, I expect, when I engages
Workmen, they'll not mind striking for their wages! Exeunt Murderers, L. —(to Guests)
Your pardon, friends—I join ye. How is this?
Our good friend Banquo from the feast we miss.

Lady M.
Oh, he'll soon come; sit down, and never fear.

Macb.
Meanwhile, to drink his health—a glass of beer.
Our good friend Banquo—wishing he was here. (drinks) The Ghost of Banquo rises, all white, and takes Macbeth's seat.

Rosse.
Will it please your highness sit?

Macb.
There ain't no chair.

Lady M.
No chair? what's this?

Macb. (seeing Ghost)
Oh crimini! look there!

Lady M.
At what?

All.
At what, my lord?

Macb.
There—don't you see? (to Ghost)
Vy do you vink your vicked eye at me?

Rosse,
We had better leave him.

Lady M.
Gents, you'd better not.

Rosse.
He's mad!

Lady M.
It's nothing but a way he's got.

Macb.
Come as the rugged Russian bear, or armed

Rhinoceros, I shouldn't be alarmed!
Take any shape but that!—Dont at me cock yer eye
In such a way! Get out, unreal mock-er-y!

Air—“Ole Dan Tucker.”
Get out of the way, you white-faced buffer! (three times)
No one asked you to come to supper!
Learn that Macbeth's not the chap—no,
To care 'cause an old fool pops up a trap—no;
For you, or your bones, I don't care a rap—no;
But out of that door head-first you slap go;
So get out of the way, &c. During the above, Banquo takes from either side two rib-bones, a pair in each hand, and plays bones accompaniment —They dance—At the conclusion, Macbeth kicks the Ghost off R., and sinks exhausted into a chair.

Lady M.
His Highness can't be well—there's something hitching,
And I must beg you all to “clear the kitchen.” Air—“Clar de kitchen;” during which, Guests go off in confusion—Lady Macbeth seems to be remonstrating with and upbraiding Macbeth, in dumb show, and Exeunt R. SCENE III. —A wood. Enter Malcolm and Macduff, L.

Mal.
Let's seek a spot where we may pipe our eye,
And in a corner have a jolly cry.

Macd.
Cry? Nonsense! If Macbeth you'd be restraining,
Practice your fisticuffs—go into training,—
Meet him and mill him like a man of metal.

Mal.
Agreed!—together his account we'll settle.
He is a bad 'un.

Macd.
Bad as half-crowns wrought
At Brummagem, or knives of pedlar, bought.

Mal.
Ah! who comes here? My countryman, and yet
I know him not. Enter Rosse L.

Macd.
You surely don't forget
My cousin Rosse? (to Rosse) This sad and downcast eye
Explain, my gentle coz, and say cos why?
Stands Scotland where it did?

Rosse.
Why, scarcely so:
That can't be said to stand which falls so low.

Mal.
I feared as much.

Macd. (to Rosse)
Oh! near relation, you,
Ain't over nice, but very much too true.
What grief's in newest cut?

Rosse
Sir, your expression
Suggests my answer—'tis ‘pain à discretion.’

Macd.
Quiet yet reigns within my private house?

Rosse.
Quiet that would not fright a nervous mouse.

Macd.
My wife and children guarded;

Rosse.
Without doubt,
Uncommon closely—

Macd.
Tell me all—speak out!

Rosse.
Alas! Macbeth, the tyrant of our nation,
Issued but yesterday this proclamation:—
“Considering James Macduff has gone away,
“Which his last quarter's rent he didn't pay,
“And while he thinks himself to roam at large able,
“Has left his family to the parish chargeable;
“Considering each separate why and wherefore,
“Considering everything beside them—therefore,
“To find for such a poser a solution,
“We in his house do put an execution.”

Macd.
And he did put one in?

Rosse.
Aye, in a jiffey.

Macd.
And seized the furniture I thought so spiffy,
My chairs and tables?

Rosse.
Sold up, every stick!

Macd.
My mattrass?

Rosse.
Got his money for your tick.

Macd.
And my American clock, that went so well?

Mal.
Without reserve it seems a regular sell!

Macd.
Where are my wife and children?

Rosse.
Under guard,
Stowed in the Union casual pauper ward.

Macd.
My furniture all gone at one fell swoop.
My wife and children fed on pauper soup,
Lettered and numbered on their several clothes
Like circulating novels?

Mal.
I propose
An early mill to sack him.

Macd.
So we will,
And play the game of more sacks to the mill. Draws his sword and rushes out L., followed by Malcolm and Rosse. SCENE IV. —A Dark Cave.—In the middle, a large cauldron, boiling—The Three Witches discovered dancing round it, and singing.

Witches.
We'll raise a jolly good spell—oh!
We'll raise a jolly good spell—oh!
We'll raise a jolly good spell—oh!
  Macbeth to terrify!
  Macbeth to terrify!
  Macbeth to terrify!
It's a way they had on the stage—oh!
When Melodrame was all the rage—oh!
The audience with spells to engage—oh!
  So we'll at a spell have a shy!
  So we'll, &c.

THE INCANTATION. 1st Witch.
Apron-strings of old maids—tabbies;
Tongues of spifflicated babbies;
Joinville of a greasy gent,
Reeking with unhallowed scent! 2nd Witch.
Beards of maggots, maws of mummies,
Fingers of flue-strangled chummies;
Heap in humbugs all to aid us—
Banjos, bones, and serenaders!

Holloway's grease, and Frampton's pills,
Fuel fierce of human ills!
Mild emetics—one a dose is;
Seventy-seven street-sweepers' noses!
Fashion new, that taste perverts—
See “the last new thing in shirts!”
Slangy coats, of aspect rare;
And the “gent's real head of air!” All Three
Double, double, toil and trouble—
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble! Enter Macbeth at back, sliding in.

Macb.
That's right, my hearties, keep the pot a boiling
I trust I'm not a family party spoiling.
Perhaps you'll tell me what it is you brew,
For I've dropped in to take pot luck with you;
That is, I'd know my destiny;—you see,
I'm not so easy as I'd wish to be.

1st Witch.
You've come to the right shop, my Lord, for we
Can read the future.

Macb.
Read? You know full well,
It takes you all you know to raise a spell!

2nd Witch.
Learn, Macbeth, for your hautiness of late,
Yours is a sort of horti-cultural fate!

Macb.
No matter—let me know it!

1st Witch.
If it ease you;
But don't blame me if what you hear don't please you. Gong—Crash—The Apparition of an Armed Head rises, and sings.

Air—“The Fall of Paris.” App.
Macbeth, you are green indeed, to wish to kno the sort of plight
That you are like to be in, ere you can say you're settled quite,
Listen to the say of one who knows about as much as you,

And settled once is settled quite—but in another point of view.
First and foremost of the lot, you'd best beware the Thane of Fife—
For if you don't take good care, he's like to prove your bane of life:
  Since your conduct such is,
  Keep out of his clutches;
Since you caused the death of Banquo, and a very many more.

Macb.
Shall I by empty prophecies be bothered?
No, never! Apparition, you be—smothered! Apparition descends.
Know, for your chaff, Sir, I don't care a straw;
Give me good news, or let me hear no more.
I thought this queer abode would bode me well;—
I've strange suspicions that this cave's a sell!

1st Witch.
We're not to blame for doing as you bade us;
Come up, then, Ethiopian—

Macb.
Sir, and aid us! Gong—The Apparition of an Ethiopian Serenader with banjo, rises, and sings.

Air—“Come, darkies, sing” App.
I wonder you this agitation show,
  In coming here to question us ti-night;
'Cause by this time you surely ought to know
There's no man born can beat Macbeth in fight! Chorus.
Sing, sing, ye witches sing:
  Sing till the cavern ring, ring, ring!
  Sing, sing, ye witches sing;
  Sing to Macbeth the King! Apparition descends.

Macb.
That's something like; the Thane of Fife, now, soon
Will play his fife to quite another tune.
But what is this, Gong—The Apparition of a “Gent” rises.
That rises like the issue of a snob,
And bears upon his baby brow the nob
And mark of gentishness?

App.
No trouble ere shall visit Cawdor's Thane
Till Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane. (Disappears)

Macb.
If e'er I from the cares of state am freed,
A dunce-inane must I then be indeed!
By these low spirits I am quite elated;
Perhaps you'll tell me, Sir—I wish he'd waited;
An awkward thought is rankling in my gizzard,
That Banquo's sons should reign—and sure it is hard
To abdicate for him—p'r'aps you'll assist.
For, though he's Scotch, his reign will not be missed;
Show me.

Witch.
No further seek it!

Macb.
Let me know;
I'm quite determined the whole hog to go!

1st Witch.
Show!

2nd Witch.
Show!

3rd Witch.
Show!

All.
Show his eyes, and give him pain;
Show, and then go back again! Gong—The Apparitions of Eight Kings, pass over, as they are mentioned, R. to L., behind gauze at back; the last bears a glass of brandy and water— Lastly, Banquo, who points to them, applying his finger to his nose, in derision of Macbeth.

Macb.
What's this? A king!—and not a bit like me!
Two more! Hallo! why, two and one make three!
A fourth!—a fifth! (to Witches) Come, that's enough at present;
Carried too far, a joke becomes unpleasant.
A sixth! Stop this long male train, I implore of you!—
A seventh! Has your mother any more of you?—
Don't try on me light sovereigns to pass.
I'll see no more! Yet, here's one bears a glass
Of other spirits! Worst of all my woes,
Banquo uplifts his finger to his nose—
An action in a ghost most impolite—
Taking what vulgar street boys call “a sight!”
Say—is this royal lot to him alloted?

1st Witch.
You would know all, you know, and now you've got it! Music.—The dance from “Der Freyschutz,” they then vanish.

Macb.
That's cool, at any rate! If ever I
Come here again, I'll know the reason why! Exit L. SCENE V. —A Chamber of the Castle. Enter a Physician and Gentlewoman.

Phys.
Walk in her sleep? Nonsense, I don't believe you!
I've watched three nights, and yet—

Gent.
I'd not deceive you;
I've seen her oft, if you've not chanc'd to meet her:
I am her watch.

Phys.
For once be a repeater,
And tell me what she said.

Gent.
Not for the earth!
'Twould be as much, Sir, as my place is worth.

Phys.
What is the cause of this?

Gent.
'Tis but, they say,
A way she's got.

Phys.
How does she get a-way
Unnoticed from her chamber?

Gent.
Well, that's more
Then I know—hush! she's here, so hold your jaw. Enter Lady Macbeth, a lighted candle in her hand, C. doors—During the following dialogue and symphony, she advances to the front, stares vacantly around her, retires up and deposits her candle on a little table at the back, then comes forward.

Gent. (to Physician)
And fast asleep!

Phys. (to Gentlewoman)
How came she by that light?

Gent.
She always burns one in a shade at night.

Phys.
How fixed and stern her eye!

Gent.
Hush! you'll her make
Look more a-stern to find you in her wake!

SONG.—Air—“The Cork Leg.” Lady M.
I've told my story again and again;
But I'll tell it once more to make it quite plain—
How I, the wife of Cawdor's Thane,
Am the biggest rascal in Dunsinane!
Ri, too, ral, loo, &c.
How that night, when all was still,
And Macbeth of wine had taken his fill,
I urged him, much against his will,
The King for to go, and to take, and to kill!
Ri, too, ral, loo, &c.

TRIO.—Air—“George Barnwell.”
  And he stuck his dagger deep in
    Duncan's very royal ribs;
  And he did it when he was sleeping. Phys. (to Gent.)
Is she telling truth or fibs? Lady M.
Folder-iddle, &c. (1st line of Chorus) Phys. (to Gent.)
Folder-iddle, &c. (2nd line) Gent. (to Phys.)
Folder-iddle, &c. (3rd line) Lady M.
Folder-iddle, &c. (4th line) Lady Macbeth dances, by herself, the accompaniment —Physician with Gentlewoman; at the conclusion he attempts to kiss her; she slaps his face, when the Air suddenly changes to—“Who's dat knocking at de door?”

Lady M.
Who's that knocking at the door?
  Who's that knocking at the door?
    Here's a spot—no, there's not;
    Out, damned spot, or I shall go to pot!
For there's somebody a-knocking at the door—at the door!
For there's a somebody knocking at the door!

—(spoken)
Come to bed—come to bed! Snatches up the candle and exit hastily, C.—Physician and Gentlewoman exeunt L.

SCENE VI. —Another Chamber. Enter Macbeth, as for battle, with a truncheon—and Attendants.

Macb.
Bring me no more reports; 'tis written “No man
Shall tackle Macbeth that is born of woman!”
Hang out our banners from the outward walls,
The cry is still, “They come!” Look out for squalls;
I've a suspicion that there'll be a row. Enter Messenger, R.
Yon lily-livered milk-sop spoon—how now?

Mess.
My lord, the English are in sight! You must
Call out your army—'neath a cloud of dust
They are coming down.

Macb.
Aye, and if I'm not wrong,
They'll come down handsome with the dust ere long,
To be well out of this— Enter Second Messenger, R.
At once declare
Your news, and don't stand like an idiot there!

Mess.
As I, my lord, kept guard, from Birnam tract
The wood seemed moving.

Macb. (punches his head)
Liar!

Mess.
It's a fact!
A funny sight, to see a grove go roving!

Macb.
Funny? it was a precious sight too moving!

Mess.
Beneath the trees they crouching came, like thieves;
They made their bows, and then they took their leaves.
They're coming down—we know not how to turn 'em.

Macb.
Curse Birnam Wood!—would any one would burn 'em!
Go, ask them if their mother knows they're out!
A ball or two will send them to the rout!
I vote we show them, when we do begin,
We're not sewn up, although we are hemmed in!
Give blows for blows, and stick to them like wax;
At least, we'll die with harness on our backs!

SONG.—Air—“Follow, follow o'er the Mountain.”
Follow, follow—if they're mounting
  To our breaches, do you see?
Though for taste there's no accounting,
  I would not in their shoes be!
Follow, follow—nothing doubting—
  And success I guarantee,
Though I've no more time for spouting
  Till redeemed my pledge shall be! Chorus—repeat, and exeunt L. SCENE VII. —Battle Field—Castle in the distance. Trumpet.—Enter Macduff, with sword drawn, L.

Macduff
Where's he who to the workhouse sent my babbies?
I'll settle him, s'help me several Jewish Rabbies! Enter Macbeth L.—crosses to R.
Turn, coward, or I'll make you! Turn and face me!

Macb.
No, youngster, no,—a fight with you'd disgrace me!
Your threats I laugh at, and your taunts I scorn,—
Macbeth don't yield to one of woman born!

Macduff.
And such am I!

Macb.
Liar!

Macduff.
Well, you're another!
I never had no father, nor no mother!

Macb.
No! you don't say so?

Macduff.
You turn pale! art staggered?

Macb.
I really couldn't fight with such a bla'guard!

Macduff.
To empty prophecies this comes of trusting.

Macb.
No parents? Lor! it's really quite disgusting!
I really can't—

Macduff.
Then yield, beast! and to badger ye,
We'll have you in a travelling menagerie,
Stirred up between the bars with heartless poles,
Or poked at by the ladies' parasols,—
And o'er it thus inscribe—for want of betterer—
“Here you may see the live”—you know—et cetera;

Adding, moreover, “He's put here becos
He led a life he didn't ought to was!

Macb.
Have you been draining cups of whiskey toddy,
That thus you boast? No, no,—before my body
I throw my shield!

Macduff.
Hallo! that's not a bad one!

Macb.
I mean I should have thrown it, if I had one!
At it like one o'clock! Lay on, Macduff!
Perhaps you'll sing out when you've had enough! They fight in the extreme of melodrame—a pause.

Macduff.
Why, you're sewn up! (to Audience) I'll into him now pitch!

Macb.
No, not sewn up, I've only got one stitch! They fight as before—Macbeth falls.
—Oh lor! Will some one a physician run for?
For I've a strange suspicion that I'm done for! (dies)

Macd.
Ha, ha, my boy! hurrah! His neck I'll wring,
Cut off his head, then cut off to the king. Enter Malcolm, Lords, Army, Attendants, &c.

Malc.
There is no need, for see, the king is here!
Refresh our soldier with a pint of beer. A pint of beer is brought to Macduff, he drinks, and passes it on to the Army, &c.

Macd.
The tyrant's dead! you now the kingdom claim;
Receive the crown. (presenting it) Duncan enters, comes between them, nods and winks at them, takes the crown, and places it on his own head. They fall back in astonishment.

Dun.
Thank you! if it's all the same
To you, I'll wear it. (puts it on)

Malc.
Well, this is a baulker!
I thought that you were spifflicated.

Dun.
Walker!
I'm not the cove, my boy, so soon to die.

Macduff.
Well, well—I never!

Macb. (rising to a sitting posture, and looking round)
No more did I!
If that old cock can jest and sport his squibs

After those several oners in the ribs,
I don't see why I shouldn't live as well—
And so here goes. (rises)

Macduff.
I say—hallo, my swell!
You're an ex-Monarch—but it don't appear,
If treble X., you'd think yourself small beer!

Macb. (to Duncan)
I tender, Sir, of course, my resignation, (They appear satisfied)
Since all's in train for me to leave my station.
So at your feet I lay my regal diadem
Without regret, nor wish again that I had 'em. Enter, at back, Banquo and Lady Macbeth, arm-in-arm, the latter with an extravagant bonnet, parasol, and shawl—They make their way through the Army to the front.

Macb.
My wife, and Banquo too! this is a treat.

Ban.
You don't down there get half enough to eat;
I didn't like it, and so, with your wife,
Gave up the ghost.

Macb.
Died?

Lady M.
No, we came to life.

Macb.
We live at present, but how long, depends
Upon the kind indulgence of our friends;
Let me entreat them but their favour give,
And kind applause, and we shall truly live!

FINALE—from “L'Elisir d' Amore.” Macb. and Lady M.
Now, if we've the approbation
  Of our kind friends here to-night,
We shall need no incantation
  To find out that all goes right.
For we who are assembled here, to gain your kind applause,
Will all die again with pleasure, I am sure, in such a cause. Ban.
Will all die again with pleasure. Macduff.
Will all die in such a cause. All.
Will all die again with pleasure,
I am sure, in such a cause! R. Macd. Ban. Lady M. Macb. Dun. Malc. Don. L.

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