In the car on my way to the Cloverleaf to my weekly Old-Guy Lunch, I was listening to the Archangel recording of Shakespeare’s King Lear and heard the Earl of Kent’s onslaught on Oswald, the smarmy steward of evil daughter Goneril: KENT: Fellow, I know thee OSWALD: What dost thou know me for? KENT: A knave; A rascal; An eater of broken meats; A base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; A lily-livered, action-taking knave, A whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; A one-trunk-inheriting slave; One that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a Knave, Beggar, Coward, Pandar, And the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: One whom I will beat into clamorous whining, If thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.