GUIDERIUS.
No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.
CLOTEN.
Thou precious varlet,
My tailor made them not.
GUIDERIUS.
Hence, then, and thank
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool;
I am loath to beat thee.
CLOTEN.
Thou injurious thief,
Hear but my name, and tremble.
GUIDERIUS.
What’s thy name?
CLOTEN.
Cloten, thou villain.
GUIDERIUS.
Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it. Were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,
’Twould move me sooner.
CLOTEN.
To thy further fear,
Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know
I am son to th’ Queen.
GUIDERIUS.
I’m sorry for’t; not seeming
So worthy as thy birth.
CLOTEN.
Art not afeard?