Lear. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect, as hee's for a
King, thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou?
Kent. Seruice
Lear. Who wouldst thou serue?
Kent. You
Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?
Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance,
which I would faine call Master
Lear. What's that?
Kent. Authority
Lear. What seruices canst thou do? Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a curious tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am quallified in, and the best of me, is Dilligence
Lear. How old art thou?
Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing,
nor so old to dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on
my backe forty eight
Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner ho, dinner, where's my knaue? my Foole? Go you and call my Foole hither. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter? Enter Steward.
Ste. So please you-
Enter.
Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clotpole
backe: wher's my Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's
asleepe, how now? Where's that Mungrell?
Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well
Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I
call'd him?
Knigh. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he
would not