“Why 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 whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, 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 denyest the least syllable of thy addition.”

“A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; abase, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; alily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be abawd, in way of good service, and art nothing butthe composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom Iwill beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniestthe least syllable of thy addition.”

“This is in thee a nature but infected;A poor unmanly melancholy sprungFrom change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgotThat ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,By putting on the cunning of a carper.Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thriveBy that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcomeTo knaves and all approachers: 'tis most justThat thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.”

“Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But masters, remember that I am an ass. Though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a householder, and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to . . . and one that hath two gowns, and everything handsome about him. Bring him away. O that I had been writ down an ass!”

“If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,By self-example mayst thou be denied.”

“Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her.”

“And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog’s obeyed in office.Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand.Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back.Thou hotly lust’st to use her in that kindFor which thou whipp’st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.Through tattered clothes great vices do appear;Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks.Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw does pierce it.None does offend—none, I say, none. I’ll able 'em.Take that of me, my friend, who have the powerTo seal th' accuser’s lips. Get thee glass eyes,And like a scurvy politician seemTo see the things thou dost not.”