King Lear

Knight.
He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

Lear.
Why came not the slave back to me when I called him?

Knight.
Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not.

Lear.
He would not!

Knight.
My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my judgment your
highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as
you were wont; there's a great abatement of kindness appears as
well in the general dependants as in the duke himself also and
your daughter.

Lear.
Ha! say'st thou so?

Knight.
I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for my duty
cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged.

Lear.
Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I have perceived
a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine
own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of
unkindness: I will look further into't.--But where's my fool? I
have not seen him this two days.

Knight.
Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool hath much
pined away.

Lear.
No more of that; I have noted it well.--Go you and tell my
daughter I would speak with her.--

[Exit Attendant.]

Go you, call hither my fool.

[Exit another Attendant.]

[Re-enter Oswald.]

O, you, sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I, sir?

Osw.
My lady's father.

Lear.
My lady's father! my lord's knave: you whoreson dog! you slave!
you cur!

Osw.
I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.

Lear.
Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
[Striking him.]

Osw.
I'll not be struck, my lord.

Kent.
Nor tripp'd neither, you base football player.
[Tripping up his heels.]

Lear.
I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love thee.

Kent.
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 wisdom? so.
[Pushes Oswald out.]

Lear.
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's earnest of thy
service.
[Giving Kent money.]

[Enter Fool.]

Fool. Let me hire him too; here's my coxcomb.
[Giving Kent his cap.]

Lear.
How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?

Fool.
Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

Kent.
Why, fool?