MALCOLM Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
ROSS Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
He only lived but till he was a man;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.
SIWARD Then he is dead?
ROSS Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measured by his worth, for then
It hath no end.
SIWARD Had he his hurts before?
ROSS Ay, on the front.
SIWARD Why then, God's soldier be he!
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so, his knell is knoll'd.
MALCOLM He's worth more sorrow,
And that I'll spend for him.
SIWARD He's worth no more
They say he parted well, and paid his score:
And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
[Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head]
MACDUFF Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
Hail, King of Scotland!
ALL Hail, King of Scotland!
[Flourish]
MALCOLM We shall not spend a large expense of time
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you.
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