[Macbeth:]</i> 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.
[Young Siward:]</i> What is thy name?
[Macbeth:]</i> Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
[Young Siward:]</i> No, though thou call'st thyself a hotter name than any is in hell.
[Macbeth:]</i> My name's Macbeth.
[Young Siward:]</i> The devil himself could not pronounce a title more hateful to mine ear.
[Macbeth:]</i> No, nor more fearful.
[Young Siward:]</i> Thou liest, abhorred tyrant. With my sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
[They fight, and young Siward is slain]
[Macbeth:]</i> Thou wast born of woman, but swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, brandished by man that's of a woman bom.
[Macbeth:]</i> Why should 1 play the Roman fool, and die on mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes do better upon them.
[Enter Macduff]
[Macduff:]</i> Turn, hell-hound, turn.
[Macbeth:]</i> Macduff, of all men else I have avoided thee. But get thee back. My soul is too much charged with blood of thine already.
[Macduff:]</i> I have no words; My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain than terms can give thee out.
[They fight]
[Macbeth:]</i> Thou losest labour. As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air with thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield to one of woman born.
[Macduff:]</i> Despair thy charm, and let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee Macduff was from his mother's womb untimely ripped.
[Macbeth:]</i> Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, for it hath cowed my better part of man; and be these juggling fiends no more believed, that palter with us in a double sense, that keep the word of promise to our ear and break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.
[Macduff:]</i> Then yield thee, coward,
[Macbeth:]</i> I will not yield to kiss the ground before your feet, and to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though thou opposed being of no woman born, yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries: "Hold, enough!" My fate may have turned to black but at least I 'II die with harness on my back.
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