Page 2176 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

No, nor more fearful.

YOUNG SEYWARD
Thou liest, abhorrèd tyrant! With my sword [20]
I’ll prove the lie thou speak’st.

Fight, and Young Seyward slain.

MACBETH
Thou wast born of woman.

But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandished 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 unbattered edge

I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be: [30]
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 Seyward.

SEYWARD
This way, my lord. The castle’s gently rendered.
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.