All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead; Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN. Don. What is amiss? Macb. You are, and do not know it: The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Macd. Your royal father's murder'd. Mal. O, by whom? Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't: They star'd, and were distracted; no man's life Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. Macd. Wherefore did you so? Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: The expedition of my violent love Out-ran the pauser reason.-Here lay Duncan, Lady M. Help me hence, ho! Mal. Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? Where our fate, hid within an augre-hole, Mal. Nor our strong sorrow on The foot of motion. Ban. Look to the lady : [Lady MACBETH is carried out. And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work, Of treasonous malice. Macb. And so do I. All. So all. Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i'the hall together. All. Well contented. [Exeunt all but MAL. and DON. Mal. What will you do? Let's not consort with them: To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office Which the false man does easy: I'll to England. Don. To Ireland I; our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer: where we are, There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody. Mal. This murderous shaft, that's shot, And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, [Exeunt. 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 see'st, the heavens, as troubled with man's act, Old M. "Tis unnatural, Even like the deed, that's done. On Tuesday last, A falcon, tow'ring 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, Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make Old M. 'Tis said, they eat each other. Rosse. 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? 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, Rosse. 'Gainst nature still: Thriftless ambition, that wilt raven up Thine own life's means!-Then 'tis most like, Macd. He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone, Rosse. Where is Duncan's body? Macd. Carried to Colmes-kill; The sacred storehouse 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. |