My very character1) I'd turn it all To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice: To make thee seek it. Glo. Strong and fasten'd villain! Would he deny his letter?-I never got him. [Trumpets within. Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes: All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape; Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Attendants. Corn. How now, my noble friend? since I came hither, (Which I can call but now,) I have heard strange news. Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short, Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord? Glo. O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, is crack'd! Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life? He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar? Glo. O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid! Hand writing. i. e. Capable of suceeding to my land. с с 2 Reg. No marvel then, though he were ill affected; "Tis they have put him on the old man's death, To have the waste and spoil of his revenues. I have this present evening from my sister Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions, That, if they come to sojourn at my house, I'll not be there. Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father A child-like office. Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir. Glo. He did bewray3 his practice; 4 and receiv'd This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. Corn. Is he pursued? Glo. Ay, my good lord, he is. Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose, Edm. I shall serve you, sir, Glo. For him I thank your grace. 3 Betray. 4 Wicked purpose. Corn. You know not why we came to visit you,— Reg. Thus out of season; threading dark-ey'd night. Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poize,5 Wherein we must have use of your advice :- Your needful counsel to our business, Which craves the instant use. Enter KENT and Steward, severally. Stew. Good dawning to thee, friend: Art of the house? Kent. Ay. Stew. Where may we set our horses? Kent. I' the mire. Stew. Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me. Kent. I love thee not. Stew. Why, then I care not for thee. Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me. Stew. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. Kent. Fellow, I know thee. 5 Weight. Stew. 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-liver'd, action-taking knave; a whorson, glassgazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunkinheriting slave; one that would'st 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 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-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou know'st me? Is it two days ago, since I tripp'd up thy heels, and beat thee, before the king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, the moon shines; I'll make a sop o'the moonshine of you: Draw, you whorson cullionly barber-monger, draw. [Drawing his Sword. Stew. Away; I have nothing to do with thee. Kent. Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the king; and take vanity against the royalty of her father: 7 the puppet's part, Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks :-draw, you rascal; come your ways. Stew. Help, ho! murder! help! Kent. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat slave, strike. 6 Titles. [Beating him. 7 A character in the old moralities. Stew. Help, hó! murder! murder! Enter EDMUND, CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSter, and Servants. Edm. How now? What's the matter? Part. Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; come, I'll flesh you; come on, young master. Glo. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here? Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives ; He dies, that strikes again: What is 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 bestirr'd your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee ; a tai lor made thee. Corn. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man? Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter, or a painter, could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two hours at the trade. Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd, At suit of his grey beard, Kent. Thou whorson 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! 8 Unrefined. 9 Privy. |