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?
