INCANTATION,
FOR RAISING A PHANTOM, IMITATED FROM MACBETH, AND LATELY PERFORMED BY HIS MAJESTY’S SERVANTS IN WESTMINSTER.
Thunder. A Cauldron boiling. Enter three Witches.
First Witch. Thrice the Doctors have been heard,
Second Witch. Thrice the Houses have conferred.
Third Witch. Thrice hath SYDNEY cock’d his chin,
JENKY cries—begin, begin.
First Witch. Round about the cauldron go.
In the fell ingredients throw.
Still-born Fœtus, born and bred,
In a Lawyer’s puzzled head,
Hatch’d by Metaphysic Scot,
Boil thou in the’ enchanted pot.
All. Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble.
Second Witch. Skull that holds the small remains
Of old CAMDEN’s addle brains;
Liver of the lily’s hue,
Which in RICHMOND’s carcase grew;
Tears which stealing down the cheek
Of the rugged THURLOW, speak
All the poignant grief he feels
For his Sovereign—or the Seals;
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a Hell-broth, boil and bubble.
All. Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble.
Third Witch. Clippings of Corinthian brass
From the visage of DUNDAS;
Forg’d Address, devis’d by Rose,
Half of PEPPER ARDEN’s nose;
Smuggled vote of City Thanks,
Promise of insidious BANKS;
Add a grain of ROLLO’s courage,
To enflame the hellish porridge.
First Witch. Cool it, with LLOYD KENTON’s blood.
Now the charm is firm and good.
All. Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble.
Enter HECATE, Queen of the Witches.
Hecate. Oh! well done! I commend your pains, And ev’ry one shall share i’th’ gains,
Cauldron sinks. Witches fly away upon broomsticks; thunder, &c.