Act IScene II
A Camp near Forres
Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.
Duncan
What bloody man is that? He can report,As seemeth by his plight, of the revoltThe newest state.
Malcolm
This is the sergeantWho, like a good and hardy soldier, fought’Gainst my captivity.—Hail, brave friend!Say to the King the knowledge of the broilAs thou didst leave it.
Soldier
Doubtful it stood;As two spent swimmers that do cling togetherAnd choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald(Worthy to be a rebel, for to thatThe multiplying villainies of natureDo swarm upon him) from the Western IslesOf kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;And Fortune, on his damned quarrel 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 chops,And fix’d his head upon our battlements.
Duncan
O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!
Soldier
As whence the sun ’gins his reflectionShipwracking storms and direful thunders break,So from that spring, whence comfort seem’d to comeDiscomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark:No sooner justice had, with valour arm’d,Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their heels,But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men,Began a fresh assault.
Duncan
Dismay’d not thisOur captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
Soldier
Yes;As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.If I say sooth, I must report they wereAs cannons overcharg’d with double cracks;So theyDoubly 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.
Duncan
So well thy words become thee as thy wounds:They smack of honour both.—Go, get him surgeons.
Exit Captain, attended.
Enter Ross and Angus.
Who comes here?
Malcolm
The worthy Thane of Ross.
Lennox
What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he lookThat seems to speak things strange.
Ross
God save the King!
Duncan
Whence cam’st thou, worthy thane?
Ross
From Fife, great King,Where the Norweyan banners flout the skyAnd 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.
Duncan
Great happiness!
Ross
That nowSweno, the Norways’ king, craves composition;Nor would we deign him burial of his menTill he disbursed at Saint Colme’s InchTen thousand dollars to our general use.
Duncan
No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiveOur bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death,And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Ross
I’ll see it done.
Duncan
What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.
Exeunt.