old Man.
o. m.
Three-score and ten14Q0507 I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time, I have seen
Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifl'd former knowings.
Ros.
Ah, good father,
Thou seest note, the heavens, as troubl'd with man's act,
Threaten note his bloody note stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kiss note it?
o. 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.
Ros.
And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange, and certain)
Beauteous, and swift, the minions of their race note,
Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would
Make war with man. note
o. m.
'Tis said, they eat each other.
Ros.
They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,
-- 33 --
That look't upon't. Here comes the good Macduff:—
Enter Macduff.
How goes the world, sir, now?
Macd.
Why, see you not?
Ros.
Is't known, who did this more than bloody deed?
Macd.
Those that Macbeth hath slain.
Ros.
Alas the day!
What good could they pretend?
Macd.
They were suborn'd:
Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
Are stoln away and fled; which puts upon them
Suspicion of the deed.
Ros.
'Gainst nature still:
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin note up note
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.
Ros.
Where is Duncan's body?
Macd.
Carry'd to Colme-kill;
The sacred store-house of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.
Ros.
Will you to Scone?
Macd.
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
Ros.
Well, I will thither.
Macd.
Well, may you see things well done there;—Adieu!—
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new.
[Exit.
Ros.
Farewel, father.
o. m.
God's benison go with you, sir; note and with those,
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
[Exeunt severally.
-- 34 --
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
