Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Malcolm,
Seyward,
Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.
Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd
Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheapely bought
Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne
Rosse. Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt,
He onely liu'd but till he was a man,
The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd
In the vnshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he dy'de
Sey. Then he is dead?
Rosse. I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end
Sey. Had he his hurts before?
Rosse. I, on the Front
Sey. Why then, Gods Soldier be he:
Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so his Knell is knoll'd
Mal. Hee's worth more sorrow,
and that Ile spend for him
Sey. He's worth no more,
They say he parted well, and paid his score,
And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.
Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.