Young Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in hell.
Macb. My name's Macbeth.
Young Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title 8
More hateful to mine ear.
Macb. No, nor more fearful.
Young Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
Macb. Thou wast born of woman:
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. 13
Alarums. Enter Macduff.
Macd. 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. 16
I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
Are hir'd to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; 20
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 Siward.
Siw. This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd: 24
22 bruited: noised
24 render'd: surrendered
