DAVINA: Welcome back, your highness. Last we saw you, you had rushed out in battle. Thank you for taking a moment to talk to us. Maybe it will give you a chance to catch your breath. It must be going okay so far. I mean, you're still alive. 

MACBETH: They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly. But, bear-like, I must fight the course. 

DAVINA: I'm sorry. Tied you to a stake? Bear-like? 

MACBETH: You know. Bear-baiting. It's done for entertainment. You tie a bear to a stake and let dogs attack it until either the bear is dead or the dogs are. 

DAVINA: Boy. That's entertainment? 

MACBETH: Right? It's pretty gruesome. 

DAVINA: And so you feel like the bear must feel, being attacked on all sides. 

MACBETH: Yes. But, like the bear, I'm also the stronger one. Don't forget—I only need to fear the one who wasn't born of a woman, and such a person doesn't exist. 

DAVINA: Right. Or at least that's how you've been thinking about it. Well, it's just then that you get approached by an English soldier and he asks your name. 

MACBETH: He would be afraid to hear it. 

DAVINA: Well, he says he won't be afraid, even if you were the worst sinner in hell. 

MACBETH: Well, tell him then, I am Macbeth. 

DAVINA: Let's see. He says, even the devil himself is not more hateful to him than you are. 

MACBETH: Or more fearful. 

DAVINA: Well, he doesn't seem to be too afraid. He calls you a liar and a tyrant, and then he says, he'll prove you're not to be feared and—wow. He attacks you with a sword. 

MACBETH: Oh, he does, does he? He was born of a woman, right? 

DAVINA: Yes. Well, I like what you say here. Would you mind? 

MACBETH: But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, brandished by a man that's of a woman born. 

DAVINA: Kind of like a little poem. 

MACBETH: I kill him, right? 

DAVINA: Let's see. Hmm. Sorry about this, but I don't have that information. You two go out of sight as you fight. 

MACBETH: Well, I'm not worried, just curious how I kill him. 

DAVINA: Of course. Here we go. You're back in action here, so you must have won their fight. 

MACBETH: Of course I did. 

DAVINA: But there are so many enemy soldiers. That was just one. 

MACBETH: What would you have me do? Should I play the Roman fool and die on my own sword? 

DAVINA: Well, there would be a certain dignity to killing yourself with your own sword once you know you're outnumbered, at least that's what the Romans thought. 

MACBETH: Well, I'm no Roman. As long as there are enemy soldiers around, I'd rather my sword take gashes out of them. 

DAVINA: Yes. Well, I think you're about to have another opportunity. You hear a voice behind you say, "turn, hell-hound, turn." It's Macduff. 

MACBETH: Just my luck. You know, I've kind of been avoiding him. 

DAVINA: Well, that's interesting. Why would you be avoiding him if you're invincible? 

MACBETH: Tell him to get lost. I have too much of his family's blood on my hands already. 

DAVINA: Well, let's see. He says he has no words and that his voice is in his sword. 

MACBETH: Oh, well. His choice. So then we fight? 

DAVINA: Yes. You fight. 

MACBETH: And? 

DAVINA: And fighting, fighting, back and forth, this guy seems pretty good. 

MACBETH: Well, he should know he's wasting his energy. He'd have an easier time making the air bleed than cutting me. Seriously. It's only fair if I tell him that I lead a charmed life, one that will never yield to a man born of a woman. 

DAVINA: Well, that's what you tell him actually. And—oh. My, this is interesting. 

MACBETH: What? What is it? 

DAVINA: I'll just read you what it says here. "Despair thy charm, and let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb untimely ripped." 

MACBETH: I'm sorry. What did you just say? 

DAVINA: Yeah, I thought that would get your attention. Macduff just said he was from his mother's womb untimely ripped. We call that cesarean where I'm from. He was removed from his mother before she even started labor. 

MACBETH: Okay. I get it. 

DAVINA: So I guess what the witches were saying was that you couldn't be defeated by anybody born of a woman. You thought they were saying you couldn't be defeated by anybody born of a woman, and everybody's got a mother, right? But if the emphasis is on the born, in the birthing process—

MACBETH: I said, I get it. 

DAVINA: You okay? 

MACBETH: Curse him for saying that. I feel my courage slipping away. I guess those witches aren't to be believed. Playing with words, they whispered promises in my ear and then broke them. 

DAVINA: Did they though? Promises? 

MACBETH: I won't fight with Macduff anymore. 

DAVINA: Well, all right. Then he wants you to surrender. He says he wants to parade you around the countryside with a sign, "here may you see the tyrant." 

MACBETH: He does, does he? And then he'll want me to kiss the ground before Malcolm's feet? 

DAVINA: Because Malcolm would be the new king, you mean. 

MACBETH: I won't do that. Even though Birnam wood has come to Dunsinane and Macduff wasn't born from a woman, I can still fight. Let me at him. 

DAVINA: Well, sure. It looks like the two of you start fighting again. 

MACBETH: And? 

DAVINA: I'm so sorry about this, but that seems to be where my information stops—with the two of you fighting. 

MACBETH: Stops? You mean like stops stops? 

DAVINA: That's right. 

MACBETH: So, we'll find out more in the next interview? 

DAVINA: As far as I know, this is your last interview. I mean, that's where my script ends, anyway. 

MACBETH: Script? Can I see that? 

DAVINA: Sure. 

MACBETH: This says the Tragedy of Macbeth. 

DAVINA: It does? Oh, right. That's the name of our show. 

MACBETH: The Tragedy of Macbeth. 

DAVINA: This is getting awkward. Maybe Ralph has some more information. 

MACBETH: You know what? You know that room in the back with the snacks and stuff? 

DAVINA: Oh, you mean the green room. 

MACBETH: Maybe I'll just—maybe I'll just wait there till—

DAVINA: Sure. Be my guest. Birnam wood, we call it. 

MACBETH: I'm sorry? 

DAVINA: Stupid joke. Green room, Birnam wood? Never mind. Let's just look out to the audience for a second.