She's a bloody vision of loveliness. — Christopher G. Moore

King Lear: How hath my fool offended?

Regan: He hath shagged me roughly, against my will, and finished too soon.

King Lear: By force- Pocket? He isn't eight-stone on a feast day- he couldn't shag a cat by force.

Pocket: That's not true, sire. If the cat is distracted with a trout, then - well, uh, never mind.

King Lear: What is your name?

Kent / Caius: Caius.

King Lear: And whence do you hale?

Kent / Caius: From Bonking, Sire.

King Lear: Well, yes, lad as do we all.

Cordelia: You honor us, Fool. Did you hear rumors of small animals to hurt or were you hoping to accidentally surprise me in my bath again?

Pocket: I was lost, Milady.

Cordelia: A dozen times?