SCENE IV.
Without the Castle.
Enter Rosse and an Old Man.
Old M.
Threescore and ten I can remember well;
Within the volume of which time I have seen
Hours dreadful, and things strange, but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.
Rosse.
Ah! good father,
Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travailing lamp9 note
.
Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
When living light should kiss it?
Old M.
'Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A falcon, towering 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 minions of their race,
-- 133 --
Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would
Make war with mankind.
Old M.
'Tis said, they ate each other.
Rosse.
They did so; to th' 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!
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 upon them
Suspicion of the deed.
Rosse.
'Gainst nature still:
Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up1 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.
Rosse.
Where is Duncan's body?
Macd.
Carried to Colme-kill;
The sacred store-house 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—
-- 134 --
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
Rosse.
Farewell, father.
Old M.
God's benison go with you; and with those,
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
