Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the
fool hath much pined away.
No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and
tell my daughter I would speak with her.
[Exit an Attendant]
Go you, call hither my fool.
[Exit an Attendant]
O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I,
My lady's father.
'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your
whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!
I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.
Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
I'll not be struck, my lord.
Nor tripped neither, you base football player.
[Tripping up his heels]
I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll
Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences:
away, away! if you will measure your lubber's
length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you
[Pushes OSWALD out]
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's
earnest of thy service.
[Giving KENT money]
Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb.
[Offering KENT his cap]
How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?
Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour:
nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits,
thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb:
why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters,
and did the third a blessing against his will; if
thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.
How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!
Why, my boy?
If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs
myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters.
Take heed, sirrah; the whip.
Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped
out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink.
A pestilent gall to me!
Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.
Mark it, nuncle:
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest,
Set less than thou throwest;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score.
This is nothing, fool.
Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you
gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of
Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.
Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of
his land comes to: he will not believe a fool.
A bitter fool!
Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a
bitter fool and a sweet fool?
No, lad; teach me.
That lord that counsell'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,
Do thou for him stand:
The sweet and bitter fool
Will presently appear;
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.
Dost thou call me fool, boy?
All thy other titles thou hast given away; that
thou wast born with.