"Some must go off: and yet, be these I see,
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
MacDuff is missing, and your nobel son
He only liv'd but till he was a man:
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
In the unshrinkable station where he fought,
But like a man he died.
Then he is dead?
Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.
Had he his hurts before?
Ay, on the front.
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, he knell is knoll'd
He's woth more sorrow,
And that, I'll psend for him
He's worth no more;
They say he parted well, and paid his scored
And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
Hail, king! for thou art. Behold,
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!" V, viii, 30-59.