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the multiplying villainies of nature |
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Do swarm upon him–from the western isles
|
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Of kerns is supplied; |
15 |
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And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, |
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but all’s too frail: |
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For brave Macbeth–well he deserves that name– |
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Disdaining fortune, with his brandished steel |
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Which smoked with bloody execution, |
20 |
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Like valour’s minion carved out his passage |
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Till he faced the slave; |
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Which ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, |
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Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the chaps, |
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And fix’d his head upon our battlements. |
25 |
| DUNCAN |
O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! |
| Sergeant |
as whence the sun gains its reflection |
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Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, |
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So from that spring whence comfort seem’d to come |
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Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark: |
30 |
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No sooner justice had with valour arm’d |
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Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their heels, |
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But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage
|
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With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men |
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Began a fresh assault. |
35 |
| DUNCAN |
Dismay’d not this |
|
Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? |
| Sergent |
Yes; |
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As sparows eagles of hare of the lion |
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