LADY MACDUFF: What, with worms and flies?
Son: With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
LADY MACDUFF: Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
The pitfall nor the gin. 
Son: Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
My father is not dead, for all your saying.
LADY MACDUFF: Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?
Son: Nay, how will you do for a husband?
LADY MACDUFF: Why, I can buy me twenty at any 
Son: Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
LADY MACDUFF: Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet, i' faith,
With wit enough for thee.
Son: Was my father a traitor, mother? 
LADY MACDUFF: Ay, that he was.
Son: What is a traitor?
LADY MACDUFF: Why, one that swears and lies.
Son: And be all traitors that do so?
LADY MACDUFF: Every one that does so is a traitor, 
and must be hanged.
Son: And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?
LADY MACDUFF: Every one.
Son: Who must hang them?
LADY MACDUFF: Why, the honest men. 
Son: Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there
are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men
and hang up them.
LADY MACDUFF: Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
But how wilt thou do for a father? 
Son: If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you
would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly
have a new father.
LADY MACDUFF: Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!