dred-pound, filthy worfted-ftocking knave; a lillyliver'd, action-taking, knave; a whorefon, glafs-gazing, fuper-ferviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting flave; one that would't be a bawd in way of good fervice; 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'ft the leaft syllable of thy addition. Stew. Why, what a monftrous 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'ft 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 fhines; 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 slave; ftand, rogue, ftand, 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- I'll flefa ye; Glo. Glo. Weapons? arms? what's the matter here? Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; he dies, that ftrikes again; what's the matter? Reg. The meffengers from our fifter and the King? Corn. What is your difference? speak. Stew. I am fcarce in breath, my lord. Kent. No marvel, you have fo beftir'd your valour; you cowardly rafcal! nature difclaims all fhare in thee: a tailor made thee. Corn. Thou art a ftrange fellow; a tailor make a man? Kent. I, a tailor, Sir; a ftone-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, whofe life I have fpar'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 beastly knave, know you no reverence? Kent. That fuch a flave as this fhou'd wear a fword. * Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain] By these holy Cords the Poet means the natural Union between Parents and Children. The Metaphor is taken from the Cords of the Sanctuary; and the Fomenters of Family Differences are compared to thefe facrilegious Rats. Warburton. With ev'ry Gale and Vary of their masters; Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, 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; Corn. This is fome fellow, Who having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainnefs Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, Kent. Sir, in good faith, in fincere verity, Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering Phæbus' front Corn. What mean'ft by this? Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you difcom -Camelot.] Was the Place where the Romances fay, King Arthur kept his Court in the Weft: Warburton. mend mend fo 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? It pleas'd the King his master very lately Kent. None of thefe rogues and cowards, Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks. You ftubborn 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 ferve the King; Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks; As I have life and honour, there fhall 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 fifter fpeaks of. Come, bring away the Stocks. Glo. Let me befeech your Grace not to do fo; His fault is much, and the good King his mafter Will check him for't; your purpos'd low correction For pilf'rings, and moft common trefpaffes, Corn. I'll answer that. Reg. My Sifter may receive it much more worse, To have her Gentleman abus'd, affaulted, For following her affairs. Put in his legs Come, my lord, away. Glo. I'M [Kent is put in the Stocks.. [Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. 'M forry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's pleasure, Whose difpofition, 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 reft I'll whistle: 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'st 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 almoft fees miracles, From |