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, the heav'ns, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten this bloody stage. By th' clock, 'tis day;
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp.
Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kiss it?

Old M.
'Tis unnatural,
Even like the Deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A faulcon, towring ^{8 note}in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kill'd.

Rosse.
And Duncan's horses, a thing most strange and certain!
Beauteous and swift, the ^{9 note}

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

Rosse.
They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,
That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff.

Enter Macduff.
—How goes the world, Sir, now?

Macd.
Why, see you not?

Rosse.
Is't known, who did this more than bloody Deed?

Macd.
Those, that Macbeth hath slain.

Rosse.
Alas, the day!
* ^noteWhat 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 upon them
Suspicion of the Deed.

Rosse.
'Gainst nature still;—
Thriftless ambition! that wilt ravin 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 Colmes-kill,
The sacred storehouse of his Predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.

Rosse.
Will you 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!

Rosse.
Farewel, Father.

Old M.
God's benison go with you, and with those
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes. [Exeunt.

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