;

dred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lillyliver'd, action-taking, knave; a whoreson, glass-gazing, fuper-ferviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that would'st be a bawd in way of good service; and art nothing but the compofition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the fon and heir of a mungril bitch; one whom I will beat into clamr'ous whining, if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition.

Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee?

Kent. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou know'st me? is it two days ago, fince I tript up thy heels, and beat thee before the King? draw, you rogue; for tho' it be night, yet the moon shines; I'll make a fop o'th' moonshine of you; you whorefon, cullionly, barber-monger, draw.

[Drawing his fword.

Stew. Away, I have nothing to do with thee. Kent. Draw, you rascal; you come with letters against the King; and take Vanity, the Puppet's part, against the royalty of her father; draw, you rogue, or I'll fo carbonado your shanks-draw, you rafcal, come your ways.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help!Kent. Strike, you flave; stand, rogue, stand, you neat flave, strike.

Stew. Help ho! murder! murder!

[Beating him.

Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and

Servants.

OW now, what's the matter? Part

Edm.

HO

please; come,

Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you

I'll flesa ye; come on, young master.

Glo.

Glo. Weapons? arms? what's the matter here? Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; he dies, that

strikes again; what's the matter?

Reg. The messengers from our sister and the King?
Corn. What is your difference? speak.
Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have so bestir'd your valour; you cowardly rascal! nature disclaims all share in thee: a tailor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow; a tailor make a man?

Kent. I, a tailor, Sir; a stone-cutter, or a painter could not have made him fo ill, tho' they had been but two hours o'th' trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

Stew. This ancient ruffian, Sir, whose life I have spar'd at fuit of his grey beard

Kent. Thou whorefon zed! thou unnecessary letter! my lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard? you wag

tail!

Corn. Peace, Sirrah!

You beaftly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent. Yes, Sir, but anger hath a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry!

Kent. That fuch a flave as this shou'd wear a sword.
Who wears no honesty, such smiling rogues as these,
* Like rates, oft bite the holy cords in twain
Too 'intrinficate t'unloofe: footh every paffion,
That in the nature of their lords rebels:

Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks

at

?

○ With ev'ry Gale and Vary of their masters;
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following.
A plague upon your epileptic vifage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum-plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to * Camelot.
Corn. What art thou mad, old fellow!
Glo. How fell you out? say that.
Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,

11

a

ב

Than I and such a knave.

Corn. Why doft thou call him knave? what is his

fault?

Kent. His countenance likes me not.

Corn. No more perchance, does mine, nor his, nor

hers.

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;

I have seen better faces in my time,

Than stand on any shoulder that I fee
Before me at this instant.

Corn. This is some fellow,

Who having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A faucy roughness; and confstrains the garb,
Quite from his nature. He can't flatter, he,-
An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth;
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.

These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain

nefs

Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Than twenty filky ducking observants,
That stretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good faith, in fincere verity,
Under th' allowance of your grand aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phabus' front-

Corn. What mean'st by this?

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discom

fo

mend so much: I know, Sir, I am no flatterer; he, that beguil'd you in a plain accent, was a plain knave; which for my part I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to intreat me to't.

Corn. What was th' offence you gave him?

Stew. I never gave gave him any:
It pleas'd the King his master very lately
To strike at me upon his misconstruction:
When he conjunct, and flatt'ring his displeasure,
Tript me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him fuch a deal of man, that
That worthied him; got praises of the King,
For him attempting who was felf-fubdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.

Kent. None of these rogues and cowards,
But Ajax is their fool.

Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks.

You stubborn ancient knave, you rev'rend braggart,
We'll teach you-

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn :
Call not your Stocks for me, I serve the King;
On whose employment I was sent to you.
You shall do small respect, shew too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.

Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;

As I have life and honour, there shall he fit till noon. Reg. 'Till noon! till night, my lord, and all night

too.

Kent. Why, Madam, if I were your father's dog, You could not use me fo.

Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will.

[Stocks brought out.

Corn. This is a fellow of the felf-fame nature Our fister speaks of. Come, bring away the Stocks. Glo. Let me besfeech your Grace not to do fo; His fault is much, and the good King his master

e.

e:

Will check him for't; your purpos'd low correction
Is fuch, as basest and the meanest wretches
For pilf'rings, and most common trespasses,
Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill,
That he, fo flightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.

Corn. I'll anfwer that.

Reg. My Sister may receive it much more worse, To have her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted,

For following her affairs. Put in his legs

Come, my lord, away.

Glo.

I

[Kent is put in the Stocks.

[Exeunt Regan and Cornwall.

'M forry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's

pleasure, Whose disposition, all the world well knows, Will not be rubb'd nor stop'd. I'll intreat for thee. Kent. Pray, do not, Sir. I've watch'd and travell'd

hard;

Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle:
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels;
Give you good-morrow.

Glo. The Duke's to blame in this, 'twill be ill taken.
[Exit.

Kent. Good King, that must approve the common

Saw,

Thou out of heaven's benediction com'ft
To the warm fun!

Approach, thou beacon to this under-globe,

[Looking up to the moon.

That by thy comfortable beams I may

Perufe this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles,

But mifery. I know, 'tis from Cordelia;

Who hath most fortunately been inform'd

Of my obfcured course. I shall find time

From