ACT I. | |
SCENE II. A Camp near Forres. | |
| [Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, |
| with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier.] |
DUNCAN. | |
| What bloody man is that? He can report, |
| As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt |
| The newest state. |
MALCOLM. | |
| 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. |
SOLDIER. | |
| 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 villainies of nature |
| Do swarm upon him,--from the Western isles |
| Of 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 valor's minion, |
| Carv'd out his passag tTill he fac'd the slave; |
| And 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. |
DUNCAN. | |
| O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! |
SOLDIER. | |
| As whence the sun 'gins his reflection |
| Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break; |
| So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to come |
| Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark: |
| No sooner justice had, with valor 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 this |
| Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? |
SOLDIER. | |
| 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. |
DUNCAN. | |
| So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; |
| They smack of honor both.--Go, get him surgeons. |
| [Exit Soldier, attended.] |
| Who comes here? |
MALCOLM. | |
| The worthy Thane of Ross. |
LENNOX. | |
| What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look |
| That seems to speak things strange. |
| [Enter Ross.] |
ROSS. | |
| God save the King! |
DUNCAN. | |
| Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane? |
ROSS. | |
| 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. |
DUNCAN. | |
| Great happiness! |
ROSS. | |
| That now |
| Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; |
| Nor would we deign him burial of his men |
| Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's-inch, |
| Ten thousand dollars to our general use. |
DUNCAN. | |
| No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive |
| Our 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.] |