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.]