The Same. Without the Castle. |
| |
Enter ROSS and an Old Man. |
| Old Man. 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. |
| Ross. Ah! good father, |
| Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act, |
| Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock 'tis day, |
| And yet darknight strangles the travelling lamp. |
| 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 Man. '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. |
| Ross. And Duncan's horses,—a thing most strange and certain,— |
| Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, |
| Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, |
| Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would |
| Make war with mankind. |
| Old Man. 'Tis said they eat each other. |
| Ross. 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? |
| Ross. Is 't known who did this more than bloody deed? |
| Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain. |
| Ross. 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. |
| Ross. '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. |
| Ross. Where is Duncan's body? |
| Macd. Carried to Colmekill; |
| The sacred storehouse of his predecessors |
| And guardian of their bones. |
| Ross. Will you to Scone? |
| Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. |
| Ross. Well, I will thither. |
| Macd. Well, may you see things well done there: adieu! |
| Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! |
| Ross. Farewell, father. |
| Old Man. God's benison go with you; and with those |
| That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! [Exeunt. |
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