And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score.

Kent.
This is nothing, fool.

Fool.
Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer,--you gave me
nothing for't.--Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?

Lear.
Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.

Fool.
[to Kent] Pr'ythee tell him, so much the rent of his land
comes to: he will not believe a fool.

Lear.
A bitter fool!

Fool.
Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and
a sweet one?

Lear.
No, lad; teach me.

Fool.
That lord that counsell'd thee