But all’s too weak,For brave Macbeth—well he deserves that name— Disdaining fortune, with his brandished steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like valor’s minion carved out his passage Till he faced the slave.
What bloody man is that?He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state.
No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,And with his former title greet Macbeth.
The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapped 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.
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, thane of Glamis! All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter!
Speak if you can: what are you?
You are lesser than Macbeth and greater. Not so happy, yet much happier. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none.
If you can look into the seeds of time And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak, then, to me
We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks, Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee.
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which additional, hail, most worthy thane, for it is thine.