How you shall bid God yield us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble.
Lady. All our service,
In every point twice done, and then done double,
Were poor and single business, to contend,
Against those honors, deep and broad, wherewith
Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,
And the late dignities heap’d up to them,
We rest your hermits.
Dun. Where’s the Thane of Cawdor?