Don. To Ireland, I: Our seperated fortune shall keepe vs both the safer: Where we are, there's Daggers in mens smiles; The neere in blood, the neerer bloody
Malc. This murtherous Shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way, Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse, And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking, But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft, Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.
Enter Rosse, with an Old man.
Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seene Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore Night Hath trifled former knowings
Rosse. Ha, good Father, Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act, Threatens his bloody Stage: byth' Clock 'tis Day, And yet darke Night strangles the trauailing Lampe: Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame, That Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe, When liuing Light should kisse it? Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall, Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last, A Faulcon towring in her pride of place, Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd
Rosse. And Duncans Horses, (A thing most strange, and certaine) Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race, Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out, Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would Make Warre with Mankinde
Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other
Rosse. They did so: To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't. Enter Macduffe.
Heere comes the good Macduffe. How goes the world Sir, now? Macd. Why see you not? Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed? Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine
Ross. Alas the day, What good could they pretend? Macd. They were subborned, Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them Suspition of the deed
Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still, Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like, The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth
Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone To be inuested
Rosse. Where is Duncans body? Macd. Carried to Colmekill, The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors, And Guardian of their Bones
Rosse. Will you to Scone? Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife
Rosse. Well, I will thither
Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu Least our old Robes sit easier then our new
Rosse. Farewell, Father
Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.