filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; onetrunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition. Osw. 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 knowest me! Is it two days since I tripped up thy heels, and beat thee, before the king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you: draw, you whoreson cullionly barbermonger, draw. [Drawing his sword. Osw. 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 so carbonado your shanks: - draw, you rascal; come your ways. Osw. Help, ho! murder! help! Kent. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat slave, strike. Osw. Help, ho! murder! murder! Enter EDMUND. Edm. How now! What's the matter? [Beating him. Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please: come, I'll flesh ye; come on, young master. Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here? Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Servants. Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; He dies that strikes again. What is the matter? Osw. I am scarce in breath, my lord. Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee: a tailor 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 o' the trade. Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? Osw. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared at suit of his gray beard, Kent. Thou whoreson 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 gray beard," you wagtail? Corn. Peace, sirrah! You beastly knave, know you no reverence? Corn. Why art thou angry? Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword, Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence? 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 stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant. Corn. This is some fellow, Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect he must speak truth! An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Than twenty silly-ducking óbservants That stretch their duties nicely. Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity, Under th' allowance of your great aspect, Corn. What mean'st by this? Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to't. Corn. What was the offence you gave him? Osw. I never gave him any: It pleas'd the king his master very late To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king; On whose employment I was sent to you: You shall do small respect, show too bold malice Stocking his messenger. Corn. Fetch forth the stocks!-As I have life and honour, There shall he sit till noon. Reg. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too. Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, You should not use me so. Our sister speaks of. Sir, being his knave, I will. Reg. Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour Come, bring away the stocks! [Stocks brought out. Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so: His fault is much, and the good king his master Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches For pilferings and most common trespasses Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill, That he, so slightly valu'd in his messenger, Should have him thus restrain'd. Corn. I'll answer that. Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse, Come, my good lord, away. [Kent is put in the stocks. [Exeunt all except Gloster and Kent. Glo. I'm sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure, Whose disposition, all the world well knows, Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd: I'll entreat 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'st To the warm sun! Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, That by thy comfortable beams I may Peruse this letter! - Nothing almost sees miracles Who hath most fortunately been inform'd - All weary and o'er-watch'd, Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night: smile once more; turn thy wheel! SCENE III. The open country. Enter EDGAR. Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd; And by the happy hollow of a tree Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place, Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth; [Sleeps |