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Another part of the field. Alarums.

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.

Yo. Siw.
What is thy name?

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Yo. Siw.
No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name

Than any is in hell.

My name's Macbeth.

Yo. Siw.
The devil himself could not pronounce a title

More hateful to mine ear.

No, nor more fearful. (10)

Yo. Siw.
Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword

I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. They fight and young Siward is slain.

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.

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 (20)

I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;

By this great clatter, one of the greatest note

Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!

And more I beg not. Exit.
Enter MALCOLM and old 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.

We have met with foes

That strike beside us. (29)

Enter, sir, the castle. Exeunt. Alarums.

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