Old Man.
Threescore and ten I can remember well;
Within the volume of which time, I've seen
Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.

Rosse.
Ah, good father,
Thou seest, and the heav'ns, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten this bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day;
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp.
Is't the night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness doth the earth intomb,
When living light should kiss it?

Old M.
'Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A faulcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawkt at, and kill'd.

Rosse.
And Duncan's horses (a thing most strange and certain!)
Beauteous and swift, the minions of the race,
Turn'd wild in nature, broke the stalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would
Make war with man.

Old M.
'Tis said, they eat each other,

Rosse.
They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,
That look'd upon't. [Exit Old Man. Enter Macduff.
Here comes the good Macduff.
How goes the world, sir, now?

Macd.
Why, see you not?

Rosse.
Is't knows who did this more than bloody deed?

Macd.
Those that Macbeth hath slain.

Rosse.
Alas, the day!
What good could they pretend?

Macd.
They were suborn'd;
Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
Are stol'n away and fled; which puts on them,
Suspicion of the deed.

Rosse.
'Gainst nature still;
Thriftless ambition! that will raven up
Thine own life's means.—Then 'tis most like,
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth!

Macd.
He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone,
To be invested.

Rosse.
Where is Duncan's body?

Macd.
Carried to Colmkill,
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.

Rosse.
Will you go to Scone?

Macd.
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

Rosse.
Well, I will thither.

Macd.
Well, may you see things well done there. Adieu;
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! [Exeunt.

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