Dun.
What bloody man is that? He can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state.

Mal.
This is the sergeant,
Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'Gainst my captivity.—Hail, brave friend!
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil,
As thou didst leave it.

Sold.
Doubtful it stood;
As two spent swimmers, that do cling together
And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald
(Worthy to be a rebel, for to that
The multiplying villanies of nature
Do swarm upon him) from the western isles
Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied^{4 note}
;

And fortune, on his damned quarry 11Q0983^{5 note} smiling,
Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak;
For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name),
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
Which smok'd with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion, carv'd out his passage,
Till he fac'd the slave;
Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

Dun.
O, valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!

Sold.
As whence the sun 'gins his reflexion
Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break^{6 note},
So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,
Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heels,
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,
With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh assault.

Dun.
Dismay'd not this
Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

Sold.
Yes;
As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks;
So they doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,
I cannot tell.—

But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

Dun.
So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds:
They smack of honour both.—Go, get him surgeons. [Exit Soldier, attended. Enter Rosse and Angus^{7 note}.
Who comes here?

Mal.
The worthy thane of Rosse.

Len.
What a haste looks through his eyes!
So should he look, that seems to speak things strange. 11Q0984

Rosse.
God save the king!

Dun.
Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?

Rosse.
From Fife, great king;
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
And fan our people cold.
Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor,
The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
The victory fell on us;—

Dun.
Great happiness!

Rosse.
That now
Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed at Saint Colmes' Inch^{8 note}
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun.
No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive

Our bosom interest.—Go, pronounce his present death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.

Rosse.
I'll see it done.

Dun.
What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. [Exeunt.

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