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?

Fool.
Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour. Nay, an thou
canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly:
there, take my coxcomb: why, this fellow hath banish'd two on's
daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will; if
thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.--How now,
nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!

Lear.
Why, my boy?