• Enter KENT disguised and OSWALD the steward, severally

    OSWALD

    Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house?

    KENT

    Ay.

    OSWALD

    Where may we set our horses?

    KENT

    I' th' mire.

    OSWALD

    5Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me.

    KENT

    I love thee not.

    OSWALD

    Why, then, I care not for thee.

    KENT

    If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

    OSWALD

    10Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

    KENT

    Fellow, I know thee.

    OSWALD

    What dost thou know me for?

    KENT

    A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave; a whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service; and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
  • KENT enters in disguise. OSWALD enters from elsewhere.

    OSWALD

    Good morning to you, friend. Do you work in this house?

    KENT

    Yes, I do.

    OSWALD

    Where should we stable our horses?

    KENT

    In the mud.

    OSWALD

    Please, sir, be kind to me and tell me.

    KENT

    I won’t be kind to you.

    OSWALD

    In that case, I don’t much care for you either.

    KENT

    If I could get my hands on you, I’d make you care.

    OSWALD

    Why are you talking to me like this? I don’t even know you.

    KENT

    Ah, but I know you.

    OSWALD

    Who am I then?

    KENT

    You’re a lowlife, a rascal who eats leftover scraps. You’re an ignoble, arrogant, shallow, vulgar, pretentious, conceited, filthy third-rate servant who thinks he’s something special. You’re a cowardly lawyer-loving bastard; a vain, brown-nosing, prissy scoundrel who’d pimp himself out to advance his career; a bag lady. You’re nothing but a lowlife, a beggar, a coward, and a pimp, the son and heir of a mutt bitch. I’ll beat you until you whine and cry if you deny the least bit of this.