Macbeth is standing on the battlefield when he is seen by Macduff, who approaches him. Macbeth speaks.
"Of all men, you I’ve avoided, I want no more of your blood
So get yourself back, don’t make me add… yours to that of the flood!"
Macduff cried, "I will not banter, my sword is now my word
Your entreaties all are pointless, to slay you… I’m undeterred."
They fight and as they do, Macbeth goads him.
"Macduff, you are starting to tire, my blood will never be drawn
I bear a charmed life, I cannot be cut by one who of woman is born."
“Then forget your charmed life,” answered Macduff, "your spirit’s omitted to say
That I was ripped too soon from the womb, not born… in a natural way!"
Macbeth is appalled and frightened at what he has been told and his resolve begins to falter.
“Those cursed witches!” Macbeth cried aloud, "Tricked by their fiendish lies
Their words had more than one meaning, my courage leaves me and dies
“I’ll fight you no more, my sword now I sheathe” “Yield then” his enemy said,
“You’re a tyrant, a villain a coward, on a pole I’ll soon have your head!”
Macbeth is aghast at this and his pride is hurt.
"I’ll never yield, to lie on the ground grovelling at young Malcolm’s feet
To be baited like a bear in chains, a fate I care not meet
Those prophecies will not protect me… yet… I must take up the war
So! Lay on, Macduff, let us resume… till one of us cries… no more!"
They fight long and hard. Macbeth is killed. Macduff severs Macbeth’s head and exits. Drums sound, enter Malcolm, Siward, Ross, thanes and soldiers. Malcolm speaks to Siward.
"There are some we will miss, but many survive, the day was cheaply won
Macduff is still missing, some nobles too, including, I fear, sir, your son."
“His body was brought from the field,” said Ross, “he died as would… a man.”
“His death was a soldier’s,” Lord Siward wept, “none better a father could plan.”
Enter Macduff carrying Macbeth’s severed head. Siward sees him and continues.
“But here comes news of great comfort, cheer to lift us from dread.”
Raising his prize, Macduff cried out… “Here is the foul tyrant’s head!” He turns to Malcolm.
Hail! King of Scotland, for that you are, surrounded by many loyal men
Join with me friends, hail our new king… all… hail Malcolm… our king… Amen."
End of Scene 8.