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

 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.

Malcolm

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.]

 SCENE VIII. The same. Another part of the field.

Enter Macbeth.

Macbeth

 MACBETH. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. 

Enter Macduff.

Macduff

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