Macbeth Act 5 Scene 7
The battlefield.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Alarums. Enter Macbeth.
Macbeth
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.
Macbeth
They've tied me to the stake. I can't run —
like a baited bear, I have to fight the pack. Where's the man
who wasn't born of woman? He's the only one
I need to fear. No one else.
Enter Young Siward.
Young Siward
What is thy name?
Young Siward
What's your name?
Macbeth
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
Macbeth
You'll be afraid just hearing it.
Young Siward
No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in hell.
Young Siward
No — not even if you call yourself something hotter
than any name in hell.
Macbeth
My name's Macbeth.
Macbeth
My name is Macbeth.
Young Siward
The devil himself could not pronounce a title
More hateful to mine ear.
Young Siward
The devil himself couldn't speak a name
I'd hate more.
Macbeth
No, nor more fearful.
Macbeth
No — nor one more terrifying.
Young Siward
Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
Young Siward
You lie, you loathsome tyrant — and my sword
will prove it.
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.
Macbeth
You were born of woman.
I smile at swords; I laugh at weapons
in the hands of any man born of woman.
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 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.
Macduff
The noise is that way. Tyrant — show your face!
If someone else's blade kills you,
my wife's and children's ghosts will haunt me forever.
I can't waste blows on miserable hired foot-soldiers
paid to carry spears. It's you, Macbeth —
or my sword goes back in its sheath
with its edge unused, its work undone. You should be there —
by the size of that clatter, someone important
is announcing himself. Let me find him, Fortune!
That's all I ask.
Exit. Alarums. Enter Malcolm and 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.
Siward
This way, my lord — the castle has surrendered almost politely.
The tyrant's own men are fighting on both sides;
your noble thanes are fighting bravely;
the day is practically declaring itself yours —
there's hardly anything left to do.
Malcolm
We have met with foes
That strike beside us.
Malcolm
We've been meeting enemies
who deliberately swing wide of us.
Siward
Enter, sir, the castle.
Siward
Enter the castle, sir.
Exeunt. Alarums.