Bast.
Save thee, Curan.

Cur.
And you, Sir, I have been
With your Father, and given him Notice
That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Dutchess
Will be here with him this Night.

Bast.
How comes that?

Cur.

Nay I know not; you have heard of the News abroad, I mean the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but Ear-kissing Arguments.

Bast.
Not I; pray you what are they?

Cur.
Have you heard of no likely Wars toward,
'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

Bast.
Not a word.

Cur.
You may do then in time,
Fare you well, Sir. [Exit.

Bast.
The Duke be here to Night! the better, best,
This weaves it self perforce into my Business.
My Father hath set guard to take my Brother,
And I have one thing of a queazy Question
Which I must act; briefness, and Fortune work. Enter Edgar.
Brother, a word, descend, Brother, I say,
My Father watches; O Sir, fly this place,
Intelligence is given where you are hid;
You have now the good advantage of the night—
Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?

He's coming hither, now i'th' Night, i'th' haste,
And Regan with him; have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
Advise your self.

Edg.
I am sure on't, not a word.

Bast.
I hear my Father coming, pardon me—
In cunning, I must draw my Sword upon you—
Draw, seem to defend your self.
Now quit you well—
Yield—come before my Father—light hoa, here,
Fly, Brother—Torches!—so farewel— [Exit Edgar.
Some blood drawn on me would beget Opinion [Wounds his Arm.
Of my more fierce endeavour. I have seen Drunkards
Do more than this in Sport; Father! Father!
Siop, stop, no help?— Enter Gloster, and Servants with Torches.

Glo.
Now Edmund, where's the Villain?

Bast.
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp Sword out,
Mumbling of wicked Charms, conjuring the Moon
To stand his auspicious Mistress.

Glo.
But where is he?

Bast.
Look, Sir, I bleed.

Glo.
Where is the Villain, Edmund?

Bast.
Fled this way, Sir, when by no means he could—

Glo.
Pursue him, ho! go after. By no means, what?—

Bast.
Perswade me to the Murther of your Lordship;
But that I told him the revenging Gods,
'Gainst Parricides did all the Thunder bend,
Spoke with how manifold, and strong a Bond
The Child was bound to th' Father. Sir, in fine,
Seeing how lothly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell Motion
With his prepared Sword, he charges home
My unprovided Body, launcht mine Arm;
And when he saw my best alarmed Spirits,
Bold in the Quarrels right, rouz'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 murtherous Coward to the Stake:
He that conceals him, Death.

Bast.
When I disswaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to do it, with curst Speech
I threatned 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, by what I should deny,
(As this I would, 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 Spirits
To make thee seek it. [Trumpets within.

Glo.
O strange and fastned Villain!
Would he deny his Letter, said he?
Hark, the Duke's Trumpets! I know not why he comes—
All Ports I'll bar, the Villain shall not scape,
The Duke must grant me that; besides his Picture
I will send far and near, that all the Kingdom
May have due Note of him; and of my Land,
Loyal and natural Boy, I'll work the Means
To make thee capable. Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.

Corn.
How now, my noble Friend? since I came hither,
Which I can call but now, I have heard strangeness.

Reg.
If it be true, all Vengeance comes too short
Which can pursue th'offender; how does 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 tended upon my Father?

Glo.
I know not, Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad.

Bast.
Yes, Madam, he was of that Consort.

Reg.
No marvel then, though he were ill-affected;
'Tis they have put him on the old Man's Death,
To have th' expence and waste of 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 shewn your Father
A Child-like Office.

Bast.
It is my Duty, Sir.

Glo.
He did bewray his Practice, and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

Corn.
Is he pursued?

Glo.
Ay, my good Lord.

Corn.
If he be taken, he shall never more
Be fear'd of doing harm, make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please; as for you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth, this instant,
So much commend it self, you shall be ours;
Nature's of such deep trust, we shall much need:
You we first seize on.

Bast.
I shall serve you, Sir, truly, how ever else.

Glo.
For him I thank your Grace.

Corn.
You know not why we came to visit you—

Reg.
Thus out of season, thredding dark-ey'd night?
Occasions, noble Gloster, of some Prize,
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 Dispatch. Our good old Friend
Lay Comforts to your Bosom, and bestow
Your needful Counsel to our Businesses,
Which crave the instant use.

Glo.
I serve you, Madam,
Your Graces are right welcome. [Exeunt.

Enter Kent, and Steward, severally.

Stew.
Good dawning to thee, Friend, art of this House?

Kent.
Ay.

Stew.
Where may we set our Horses?

Kent.
I'th' Mire.

Stew.
Prithee if thou lov'st 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.

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 Woosted-stocking Knave, a Lilly-livered, Action-taking, whorson Glass-gazing, Super-serviceable finical Rogue, one-Trunk-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 Mungril Bitch; one whom I will beat into clamours 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-fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me? Is it two Days since I tript 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'th' Moonshine of you, you whorson Culleinly Barbermonger, draw.

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 so carbonado your Shanks—draw, you Rascal, come your ways.

Stew.

Help, ho! Murther! help!—

Kent.

Strike you Slave; stand, Rogue, stand you neat Slave, strike.

Stew.
Help ho! Murther, murther!— Enter Bastard, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.

Bast.
How now, what's the Matter? Part—

Kent.
With you, goodman Boy, if you please, come,
I'll flesh ye, 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 bestir'd your Valour, you cowardly Rascal, Nature disclaims all share in thee: A Tailor made thee.

Corn.

Thou art a strange Fellow, a Tailor make a Man?

Kent.

A Tailor, Sir? a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could not have made him so ill, tho' they had been but two Years o'th' Trade.

Corn.

Speak yet, how grew your Quarrel?

Stew.

The ancient Ruffian, Sir, whose Life I have spar'd at sute of his gray 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 gray Beard, you wag-tail!—

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,
Like Rats oft bite the holy Cords a-twain,
Which art t'intrince, t'unloose: Smooth every Passion
That in the Natures of their Lords rebel,
Being 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 Epileptick Visage,

Smile you my Speeches, as I were a Fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum Plain,
I'll 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 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,
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 bluntless, doth affect
A sawcy roughness, and constrains the garb
Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter, he,
An honest Mind, and plain, he must speak truth,
And 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,
Then twenty silly ducking observants,
That stretch their Duties nicely.

Kent.
Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
Under th' allowance of your great Aspect,
Whose influence like the wreath of radiant Fire,
Or flicking 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 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?

Stew.
I never gave him any:
It pleas'd the King his Master, very lately,
To strike at me upon his Misconstruction,
When he compact, and flattering his Displeasure,
Tript 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-subdued,
And in the fleshment of this dead Exploit,
Drew on me here again.

Kent.
None of these Rogues, and Cowards,
But Ajax is their Fool.

Corn.
Fetch forth the Stocks.
You stubborn ancient Knave, you reverent 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 Imployment I was sent to you,
You shall do small Respects, 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.

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.

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,
The King his Master needs must take it ill,
That he's so slightly valued in his Messenger,
To have him thus restrained.

Corn.
I'll answer that. [Kent is put in the Stocks.

Reg.
My Sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted.

Corn.
Come, my Lord, away. [Exit.

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 stopt, I'll intreat for thee.

Kent.
Pray do not, Sir, I have watch'd and travel'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 Heav'ns 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. I shall find time
For this enormous State, and seek 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. Enter Edgar.

Edg.
I have heard my self 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. Whiles I may scape
I will preserve my self: And am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest Shape
That every penury in Contempt of Man,
Brought near to Beast: My Face I'll grime with filth,
Blanket my Loins, put all my Hair in knots,
And with presented Nakedness out-face
The Winds, and persecutions of the Sky.
The Country gives me proof and president
Of Bedlam Beggars, who with roaring Voices
Strike in their numm'd and mortified Arms,
Pins, wooden Pricks, Nails, Sprigs of Rosemary;
And with this horrible Object, from low Farms,
Poor pelting Villages, Sheeps-coats, and Mills,
Sometimes with Lunatick Bans, sometimes with Prayers,
Inforce their Charity: Poor Turlygod, poor Tom,
That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. [Exit. Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.

Lear.
'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my Messenger.

Gent
As I learn'd,
The Night before, there was no purpose in them

Of this remove.

Kent.
Hail to thee, Noble Master.

Lear.
Ha, make'st thou this Shame thy Pastime?

Kent.
No, my Lord.

Fool.

Ha, ha, he wears Crewel Garters; Horses are ty'd by the Heads, Dogs and Bears by th' Neck, Monkeys by th' Loins, and Men by th' Legs; when a Man is over-lusty at Legs, then he wears wooden nether Stocks.

Lear.
What's he, that hath so much thy place mistook,
To set thee here?

Kent.
It is both he and she,
Your Son and Daughter.

Lear.
No.

Kent.
Yes.

Lear.
No, I say.

Kent.
I say, yea.

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 Murther,
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?

Kent.
My Lord, when at their home
I did commend your Highness Letters to them,
E'er I was risen from the Place, that shewed
My Duty kneeling, came there a reeking Post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Gonerill his Mistress, Salutation;
Deliver'd Letters spight of intermission,
Which presently they read: on those 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 sawcily against your Highness,
Having more Man than Wit about me, I 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 th' Poor.
But for all this thou shalt have as many dolours for thy dear
Daughters, as thou canst tell in a Year,

Lear.
Oh 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.
Follow me not, stay here. [Exit.

Gen.
Made you no more Offence,
But what you speak of.

Kent.
None;
How chance the King comes with so small a Number?

Fool.

And thou hadst been set i'th' Stocks for that Question, thou'dst well deserv'd it.

Kent.

Why, Fool?

Fool.

We'll set thee to School to an Ant, to teach thee there's no labouring i'th' 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; but the great one that goes upward, 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.