Page 1825 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3
P. 1825
CORNWALL
Peace, sirrah!
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
KENT
Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege.
CORNWALL
Why art thou angry? [65]
KENT
That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain
Which are too intrince t’unloose; smooth every passion
That in the natures of their lords rebel; [70]
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
Knowing nought, like dogs, but following.
A plague upon your epileptic visage! [75]
Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I’d drive ye cackling home to Camelot.
CORNWALL
What! art thou mad, old fellow?
GLOUCESTER
How fell you out? say that. [80]
KENT
No contraries hold more antipathy
Than I and such a knave.
CORNWALL
Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault?
