925Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well,

926Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seene

927Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore Night

928Hath trifled former knowings.

929Rosse. Ha, good Father,

930Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act,

931Threatens his bloody Stage: byth'Clock 'tis Day,

932And yet darke Night strangles the trauailing Lampe:

933Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame,

934That Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe,

935When liuing Light should kisse it?

936Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall,

937Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last,

938A Faulcon towring in her pride of place,

939Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd.

940Rosse. And Duncans Horses,

941(A thing most strange, and certaine)

942Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race,

943Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out,

944Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would

945Make Warre with Mankinde.

946Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other.

947Rosse. They did so:

948To th'amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't.

950Heere comes the good Macduffe.

951How goes the world Sir, now?

952Macd. Why see you not?

953Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed?

954Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine.

955Ross. Alas the day,

956What good could they pretend?

957Macd. They were subborned,

958Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes

959Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them

960Suspition of the deed.

961Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still,

962Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp

963Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like,

964The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth.

965Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone

966To be inuested.

967Rosse. Where is Duncans body?

968Macd. Carried to Colmekill,

969The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors,

970And Guardian of their Bones.

971Rosse. Will you to Scone?

972Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife.

973Rosse. Well, I will thither.

974Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu

975Least our old Robes sit easier then our new.

976Rosse. Farewell, Father.

977Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those

978That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.