INCORRECT:
KENT: Is not this your son, my lord?
GLOUCESTER: His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blush’d to acknowledge him, that now I am braz’d to it.
KENT: I cannot conceive you.
GLOUCESTER: Sir, this young fellow’s mother could; whereupon she grew round-womb’d, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?
KENT: I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.
GLOUCESTER: But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came something saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.
CORRECT:
KENT: Is not this your son, my lord?
GLOUCESTER: Yes.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
That would make a nice Goofus and Gallant panel.