18King. What bloody man is that? he can report,

19As seemeth by his plight, of the Reuolt

20The newest state.

21Mal. This is the Serieant,

22Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought

23'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend;

24Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle,

25As thou didst leaue it.

26Cap. Doubtfull it stood,

27As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together,

28And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald

29(Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that

30The multiplying Villanies of Nature

31Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles

32Of Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd,

33And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling,

34Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake:

35For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name)

36Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele,

37Which smoak'd with bloody execution

38(Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage,

39Till hee fac'd the Slaue:

40Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him,

41Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth'Chops,

42And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements.

43King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman.

44Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection,

45Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders:

46So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,

47Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke,

48No sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd,

49Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles,

50But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage,

51With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men,

52Began a fresh assault.

53King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and

54Banquoh?

55Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles;

56Or the Hare, the Lyon:

57If I say sooth, I must report they were

58As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks,

59So they doubly redoubled stroakes vpon the Foe:

60Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds,

61Or memorize another Golgotha,

62I cannot tell: but I am faint,

63My Gashes cry for helpe.

64King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds,

65They smack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons.

67Who comes here?

68Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse.

69Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes?

70So should he looke, that seemes to speake things strange.

71Rosse. God saue the King.

72King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane?

73Rosse. From Fiffe, great King,

74Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie,

75And fanne our people cold.

76Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers,

77Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor,

78The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict,

79Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe,

80Confronted him with selfe-comparisons,

81Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme,

82Curbing his lauish spirit: and to conclude,

83The Victorie fell on vs.

84King. Great happinesse.

85Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King,

86Craues composition:

87Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men,

88Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch,

89Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse.

90King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue

91Our Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death,

92And with his former Title greet Macbeth.

93Rosse. Ile see it done.

94King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.