Macduff
Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
Exeunt.
Scene VII
Another part of the field.
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.
Young Siward
What is thy name?
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.