Turn, hellhound, turn!

Macduff
Turn, hellhound, turn!
Macbeth
Of all men else I have avoided thee.
But get thee back. My soul is too much charged
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.
  Fight. Alarum.

And be these juggling fiends no more believed
That palter with us in a double sense,

Macbeth
Thou losest labor.
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 charmèd life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.
Macduff
Despair thy charm,
And let the angel whom thou still hast served
Tell thee Macduff was from his mother’s womb
Untimely ripped.
Macbeth
Accursèd be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cowed my better part of man!
And be these juggling fiends no more believed
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’ th’ 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 opposed, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body
I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
And damned be him that first cries “Hold! Enough!”

They exit fighting. Alarums. They enter fighting, and Macbeth is slain. Macduff exits carrying off Macbeth’s body. Retreat and flourish.