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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.SERGEANT. Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling togetherAnd choke their art. The merciless MacdonwaldWorthy 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 nameDisdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like Valor's minion carved out his passageTill he faced 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.DUNCAN. O valiant cousin! Worthy gentleman!SERGEANT. As whence the sun 'gins his reflectionShipwrecking 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 valor arm'd, Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels, But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbish'd arms and new supp

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