Stew.

Good even^{3 note} to thee, friend: Art of this house?

Kent.

Ay.

Stew.

Where may we set our horses?

Kent.

I' th' 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 ^{4 note}

Stew.

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

Kent.

Fellow, I know thee.

Stew.

What dost thou know me for?

Kent.

A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, ^{5 note}hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lilly-liver'd, action-taking knave; a whorson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting 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 mungrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition^{6 note}.

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, since I tript up thy heels, and beat thee, before the king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon shines; ^{7 note}

Stew.

Away; I have nothing to do with thee.

Kent.

Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the king; and take ^{9 note}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.

Stew.

Help, ho! murder! help!

Kent.

Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you ^{1 note}

Stew.

Help ho! murder! murder!

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, ^{2 note}

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.

^{3 note}

Corn.
Peace, sirrah!
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

Kent.
Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege.

Corn.
Why art thou angry?

Kent.
That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
^{6 note}

Too 'intrinsicate t'unloose: sooth every passion9Q1085
That in the nature of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, ^{7 note}

Corn.
What art thou mad, old fellow?

Glo.
How fell you out? say that.

Kent.
No contraries hold more antipathy^{1 note}

,
Than I and such a knave.

Corn.
Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence?

Kent.
His countenance likes me not^{2 note}

.

Corn.
No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or hers.

Kent.
Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;
I have seen better faces in my time,
Than stand 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 ^{3 note}
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 plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
^{4 note}

Kent.
Sir, in good sooth, or in sincere verity,
Under the allowance of your grand aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
^{5 note}

Cor.

What mean'st thou by this?

Kent.

To go out of my dialect, which you discommend 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, ^{6 note}though

I should win your displeasure to entreat me to it.

Cor.
What was the offence you gave him?

Stew.
I never gave him any:
It pleas'd the king his master, very late,
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, ^{7 note}conjunct, and flattering his displeasure,
Tript me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man, that
That worthy'd 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.
None of these rogues, and cowards,
^{8 note}But Ajax is their fool.

Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks, ho!
You stubborn ancient knave^{9 note}, you reverend 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 sit 'till noon.

Regan.
'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.

Reg.
Sir, being his knave, I will. [Stocks brought out^{1 note}.

Corn.
This is a fellow of the self-same colour^{2 note}
Our sister speaks of:—Come, bring away the stocks.

Glo.
Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
^{3 note}*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 the meanest^{4 note} 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,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs.—Put in his legs.— [Kent is put in the stocks^{5 note}

Glo.
I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure,
Whose disposition, all the world well knows,

^{6 note}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. [Exit.

Kent.
^{7 note}

Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course;—^{1 note}

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.

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