KENT

What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou

knowest me! Is it two days ago since I tripped up

thy heels, and beat thee 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 barber-monger, draw.

[Drawing his sword]