Chapter: SCENE II.

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 dark night 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?

MACDUFF.
Why, see you not?

ROSS.
Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?

MACDUFF.
Those that Macbeth hath slain.

ROSS.
Alas, the day!
What good could they pretend?

MACDUFF.
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.

MACDUFF.
He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone
To be invested.

ROSS.
Where is Duncan's body?

MACDUFF.
Carried to Colme-kill,
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.

ROSS.
Will you to Scone?

MACDUFF.
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

ROSS.
Well, I will thither.

MACDUFF.
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.]

 Lady Macbeth is alone on stage. She tells us that she drugged the King's guards and would've even killed Duncan herself, if he hadn't looked so much like her father in his sleep. Apparently, she's all family values now. Macbeth enters with bloody hands and a weird story: two separate people staying in the castle woke up while he was in the act. One cried, "Murder!" but they both went back to sleep after saying their prayers. Macbeth is disturbed that he couldn't say "Amen" when they said, "God bless us." He could have used the blessing, given how he recently damned his soul by killing the King.Lady Macbeth is of the "If you don't think about, it will go away" school of thought, but Macbeth is still clearly disturbed at having killed a sleeping old man for his own selfish gain. There's also a little problem where he heard voices saying things like "Macbeth does murder sleep!" Lady Macbeth tries to get her husband to focus on the matter at hand, which is framing the King's attendants. He won't do it himself, so she takes the daggers from him, smears the attendants with Duncan's blood, and plants the weapons. Come on. That would never fool CSI: Cawdor. As Macbeth philosophizes about his guilty hands, Lady Macbeth comes back, having done her part. She hears a knock at the door, and hurries Macbeth to bed so that they don't look suspicious, and they can do a little washing up before all the "Oh no! The king is dead" morning hullabaloo. Macbeth regrets killing Duncan --he says he wishes that all the knocking at the door would "wake Duncan" from his eternal sleep.Sorry, dude. No take-backsies with murder.

