Act 5

Scene VII

Another part of the field.

	Alarums. Enter Macbeth.
Macbeth	They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What’s he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none.
	Enter Young Siward.
Young Siward	What is thy name?
Macbeth	Thou’lt be afraid to hear it.
Young Siward	No; though thou call’st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell.
Macbeth	My name’s Macbeth.
Young Siward	The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear.
Macbeth	No, nor more fearful.
Young Siward	Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword I’ll prove the lie thou speak’st. They fight and Young Siward* is slain.*
Macbeth	Thou wast born of woman But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish’d by man that’s of a woman born. Exit.
	Alarums. Enter Macduff.
Macduff	That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! If thou be’st slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children’s ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbatter’d edge I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not. Exit. Alarums.
	Enter Malcolm* and old Siward.*
Siward	This way, my lord; the castle’s gently render’d: The tyrant’s people on both sides do fight; The noble thanes do bravely in the war; The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do.
Malcolm	We have met with foes That strike beside us.
Siward	Enter, sir, the castle. Exeunt. Alarums.