DUNCAN: What bloody man is that? He can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state.
DUNCAN: O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!
Sergeant: 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 valour 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: So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.
LENNOX: What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
That seems to speak things strange.
DUNCAN: Whence camest thou, worthy thane?
DUNCAN: No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth. 
ROSS: I'll see it done.
DUNCAN: What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.