The multiplying villanies of nature do swarm upon him, and fortune, on his damned quarrel, smiling, showed like a rebel's whore. But all's too weak; for brave Macbeth...well he deserves that name. Disdaining fortune, with his brandished steel, which smoked bloody execution. Like valour's minion carved out his passage...till he faced the slave; which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him.
