MACBETH.
Thou’lt be afraid to hear it.
YOUNG SIWARD.
No; though thou call’st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in hell.
MACBETH.
My name’s Macbeth.
YOUNG SIWARD.
The devil himself could not pronounce a title
More hateful to mine ear.
MACBETH.
No, nor more fearful.
YOUNG SIWARD.
Thou liest, abhorred tyrant. With my sword
I’ll prove the lie thou speak’st.
[They fight, and young Siward is slain.]
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.