Kent.
What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me! Is
it two days ago since I beat thee and tripped up thy heels before
the king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon
shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you: draw, you
whoreson cullionly barbermonger, draw!

[Drawing his sword.]

Osw.
Away! I have nothing to do with thee.

Kent.
Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the king; and
take vanity the puppet's part against the royalty of her father:
draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks:--
draw, you rascal; come your ways!

Osw.
Help, ho! murder! help!

Kent.
Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat slave, strike!

[Beating him.]

Osw.
Help, ho! murder! murder!