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.

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