Chapter: SCENE VIII.

The same. Another part of the field.

[Enter 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.
Turn, hell-hound, turn!

MACBETH.
Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back; my soul is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.

MACDUFF.
I have no words,--
My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out!

[They fight.]

MACBETH.
Thou losest labour:
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.

MACDUFF.
Despair thy charm;
And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.

MACBETH.
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope!--I'll not fight with thee.

MACDUFF.
Then yield thee, coward,
And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole, and underwrit,
"Here may you see the tyrant."

MACBETH.
I will not yield,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body
I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!"

[Exeunt fighting.]

[Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, old
Siward, Ross, Lennox, Angus, Caithness, Menteith, and Soldiers.

MALCOLM.
I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd.

SIWARD.
Some must go off; and yet, by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

MALCOLM.
Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

ROSS.
Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
He only liv'd but till he was a man;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.

SIWARD.
Then he is dead?

FLEANCE.
Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

SIWARD.
Had he his hurts before?

ROSS.
Ay, on the front.

SIWARD.
Why then, God's soldier be he!
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And, so his knell is knoll'd.

MALCOLM.
He's worth more sorrow,
And that I'll spend for him.

SIWARD.
He's worth no more:
They say he parted well, and paid his score:
And so, God be with him!--Here comes newer comfort.

[Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head.]

MACDUFF.
Hail, king, for so thou art: behold, where stands
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,--
Hail, King of Scotland!

ALL.
Hail, King of Scotland!

[Flourish.]

MALCOLM.
We shall not spend a large expense of time
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,--
As calling home our exil'd friends abroad,
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen,--
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life;--this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
We will perform in measure, time, and place:
So, thanks to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.

[Flourish. Exeunt.]

 Macbeth enters the stage alone and says he refuses to "play the Roman fool" . Macduff enters and calls Macbeth a "hell-hound" and Macbeth talks a little trash in return: I already killed your family so you best be steppin' back now unless you want me to have your blood on my hands, too. Macduff is having none of it. They fight, and Macbeth continues to be cocky. He says Macduff hasn't got a chance since he, Macbeth, can't be killed by anyone "of woman born." That's funny, says Macduff, because "Macduff was from his mother's womb / Untimely ripped." In other words: He was delivered, prematurely, via Cesarean section. And apparently that means he wasn't "born." Don't anyone tell Macduff's mom. Recovering from a medieval C-section was probably no fun. Macbeth curses the "juggling fiends" and their twisted prophesy. Now that he knows he's not invulnerable, he doesn't want to fight Macduff anymore--but he also doesn't want to yield. Since he has to pick one, he decides to keep fighting...right until Macduff kills him. Malcolm and Siward run across the stage looking for Macbeth. Siward takes time out to exposit for the audience: there's a lot of fighting going on at the castle, the thanes are fighting exceptionally well, and Malcolm's pretty close to victory. Malcolm, Siward, Ross, the thanes, and the soldiers all assess what's been going down during the battle at the castle. It looks like Siward's son and Macduff are missing. Ross delivers the news that Young Siward was slain by Macbeth. That's okay, says Young Siward's dad; his wounds were on his front, which means he stood and fought, and that means he died honorably. You know, "like a man." Things seriously improve when Macduff shows up waving Macbeth's severed head. Everyone turns to Malcolm and yells "Hail, King of Scotland." Hmm. Isn't that how the witches greeted Macbeth back at the beginning of the play? Malcolm just can't wait to be king. When he is, all the Scottish thanes will be made earls, as in the English system, making them the first earls in Scottish history. Together with Malcolm they'll call home everyone who had to flee the country because of Macbeth's tyranny and punish all of the people who helped the Macbeths. In his speech, Malcolm also suggests that Lady MacB took her own life, which we didn't really know till now.) But enough death-talk. It's time to party down at the coronation ceremony at Scone.

