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.
Enter Young Siward
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. (5.7.1-8)
In a film this would be a jump cut, forward in time at least a little, and the noise of the battle continues. It’s not going well for Macbeth, it seems; has the castle wall been breached? Whether literally or metaphorically (or both), Macbeth’s trapped, cornered: they have tied me to a stake, like a bear being baited, chained and attacked by dogs. A bear would still be able to inflict horrific injuries on its assailants, especially with its claws, so Macbeth’s not giving up yet—he’s got no choice, he says, he has to fight the course, the course being each round of dogs being loosed at the bear, each wave of the attack. He’s got to see it through and, back to the wall, he’s capable of anything, nothing to lose. And he consoles himself with one of the other prophecies, a new mantra: what’s he that was not born of woman? go on, tell me! show me! it’s impossible, isn’t it? there’s no such man. Such a one am I to fear, or none. QED: if it’s an impossibility that any such man, not born of woman, exists, then I’ve got nothing to fear.
Young Siward is Young Siward, as editors point out, because he’s son, not father, but it works in this moment to make him notably young, Malcolm’s contemporary or even younger, because of the way that Macbeth is going to defy and taunt him. He asks Macbeth, what is thy name?Formal, proper, and also common sense; it could be played as if Young Siward already knows who this is, or at least suspects, but needs confirmation (tell me something I haven’t guessed already), perhaps can’t quite believe it, Macbeth, the leader, the prize, the villain, the legendarily savage warrior—or else it emphasises Young Siward’s youthful inexperience, the possibility that he’s already out of his depth, despite his bravery. Thou’lt be afraid to hear it swaggers Macbeth: are you sure you want to know my name, boy? Are you ready? Can you cope? It might terrify you to know who and what you’re facing. I’m not afraid, responds Young Siward, though thou call’st thyself a hotter name than any is in hell; I wouldn’t be afraid were you the devil himself, or worse. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anything.
