Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;

But that I told him, the revenging gods
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond

The child was bound to the father ;-sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion,
With his prepared sword he charges home
My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm:
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to th' encounter,
Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.

Glo.
Let him fly far:
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
And found-dispatch.-The noble duke my master,
My worthy arch and patron comes to-night:
By his authority I will proclaim it,

That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
He, that conceals him, death.

Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent, And found him pight to do it, with curst speech I threaten'd to discover him: he replied,

Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think, If I would stand against thee, would the reposal Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee

Make thy words faith'd? No: what I should deny, (As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce My very character,) I'd turn it all

To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice:
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spurs
To make thee seek it."

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short, Which can pursue th' offender. How dost, my lord?

Glo. O, madam! my old heart is crack'd, it's 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. Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knights

That tend upon my father?

Glo. I know not, madam: 'tis too bad, too bad.-
Edm. Yes, madam, he was of that consort.
Reg. No marvel, then, though he were ill af-
fected:

'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have th' expense and waste of his revenues.

Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poize,
Wherein we must have use of your advice.
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,

Of differences, which I best thought it fit

To answer from our home: the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow,
Your needful counsel to our business,
Which craves the instant use.

Glo.
I serve you, madam.
Your graces are right welcome.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Before GLOSTER's Castle.
Enter KENT and OSWALD, severally.

Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house?

Kent. Ay.

Osw. Where may we set our horses?

Kent. I' the mire.

Osw. Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me.

Kent. I love thee not.

Osw. Why, then I care not for thee.

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

Osw. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

Kent. Fellow, I know thee.

Osw. What dost thou know me for?

Kent. A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, threesuited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave, a whoreson glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldest 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 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: [Drawing his sword.] Draw, you whoreson cullionly barber-monger, draw.

Osi. 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. [Beating him.

Osw. Help, ho! murder! murder!

Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, EDMUND, 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.

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 at the trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? Osw. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd,

At suit of his grey 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 grey beard, you wagtail?

Corn. Peace, sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

Kent. Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry y?

Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword,

Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain

Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every

passion

That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
Knowing nought, like dogs, but following.-
A plague upon your epileptic visage!
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,
Than I and such a knave

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
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb,
Quite from his nature: he cannot 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-

ness

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

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, Under th' allowance of your great aspect, Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering Phœbus' front,—

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, compact, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthied him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.

Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, You should not use me so. Reg.

Sir, being his knave, I will. [Stocks brought out

Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour Our sister speaks of.-Come, bring away the stocks 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 valued in his messenger, Should have him thus restrain'd.

Corn.

I'll answer 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.[KENT is put in the stocks.

Come, my lord, away. [Exeunt REGAN and CORNWALL. Glo. I am 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 have 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. [Erit.

Kent. Good king, that must approve the com

mon 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,
But misery:-I know, 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course; and shall find time
From this enormous state, seeking to give
Losses their remedies.-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!

[He sleeps.

SCENE III-A part of the Heath.

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, That guard, and most unusual vigilance, Does not attend my taking. While I may 'scape, I will preserve myself; and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape, That ever penury, in contempt of man, Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth,

Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots,
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity. Poor Turly good! poor

Tom!

That's something yet :-Edgar I nothing am.

[Exit.

Kent. Yes.

Lear. No, I say.

Kent. I say, yea.

Lear. No, no; they would not.
Kent. Yes, they have.
Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no.

Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay. Lear.

They durst not do't;

They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse than murder,

To do upon respect such violent outrage.
Resolve me with all modest haste which way
Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Coming from us.

Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril, his mistress, salutations;
Deliver❜d letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend

The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine,
(Being the very fellow which of late
Display'd so saucily against your highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, drew :
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries.
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.

Fathers, that wear rags,

Do make their children blind;
But fathers, that bear bags,

Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,

Ne'er turns the key to the poor.—

But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year. Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!

Hysterica passio! down, thou climbing sorrow!
Thy element's below.-Where is this daughter?
Kent. With the earl, sir; here, within.
Lear.

Stay here.

Follow me not: [Exit.

Gent. Made you no more offence than what you speak of?

Kent. None.

How chance the king comes with so small a train? Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that question, thou hadst well deserved it.

Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.

That sir, which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,

Will pack when it begins to rain,

And leave thee in a storm.

But I will tarry; the fool will stay,

And let the wise man fly :

The knave turns fool that runs away,
The fool no knave, perdy.

Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool?

Fool. Not i' the stocks, fool.

Re-enter LEAR, with GLOSTER.

Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?

They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches, The images of revolt and flying off.

Fetch me a better answer.

Glo.

My dear lord,

You know the fiery quality of the duke;

How unremovable and fix'd he is

In his own course.

Would with his daughter speak, commands her service :

Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood!-
Fiery? the fiery duke ?-Tell the hot duke, that-
No, but not yet;-may be, he is not well :
Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear;

And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
For the sound man.-Death on my state! wherefore
[Looking on Kent.
Should he sit here? This act persuades me,
That this remotion of the duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.
Go, tell the duke and 's wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry-"Sleep to death."

66

Glo. I would have all well betwixt you. [Erit. Lear. O me! my heart, my rising heart!—but, down.

Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels, when she put them i' the paste alive; she rapp'd 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, Down, wantons, down:" 'twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay. Enter CORNWAll, Regan, GloSTER, and Servants. Lear. Good morrow to you both. Corn.

Hail to your grace! [KENT is set at liberty. Reg. I am glad to see your highness. Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what

reason

I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adult'ress.-O! are you free?
[TO KENT.

Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O Regan! she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here.-
[Points to his heart.