Glo.
Your graces are right welcome.

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 th'offender: how does my lord?

Glo.
O madam, my old heart is crack'd, 'tis 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, tho' he were ill affected;
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have th'expence and waste 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 shewn your father
A child-like office.

Edm.
'Twas my duty, sir.

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

Corn.
Is he pursu'd?

Glo.
Ay, my good lord.

Corn.
If he be taken, he shall never more
Be fear'd of doing harm. As for you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours:
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need.

Edm.
I shall serve you, sir, truly, however else.

Glo.
I thank your grace.

Reg.
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of diff'rences, which I best thought it fit
To answer from our home: the sev'ral 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. Enter Steward and Kent, with swords drawn.

Glo.

Weapons? arms? what's the matter here?

Corn.

Keep peace, upon your lives; he dies, that strikes again; what's 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.

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'th' 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 wagtail!—

Corn.
Peace, sirrah! Know you no reverence?

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

Corn.
Why art thou angry?

Kent.
That such a slave as this shou'd wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty: such smiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain
Too intricate to unloose: sooth every passion,
That in the nature of their lords rebels:
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Forswear, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With ev'ry gale and vary of their masters;
As 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'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 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 stand on any shoulders that I see
Before me at this instant.

Corn.
This is some fellow,
Who having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect

A sawcy roughness; and constrains the garb,
Quite from his nature. He can't 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 corrupt design,
Than twenty silly ducking minions,
That stretch their duties nicely.

Kent.
Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
Under th' allowance of your grand 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 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 conjunct, and flatt'ring his displeasure,
Tript me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That he 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,
But Ajax is their fool.

Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks!
You stubborn ancient knave, you rev'rend 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.

Reg.
'Till noon! 'till night, my lord, and all night too.

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

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

Corn.
This is a fellow of the self same nature
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 it; but must take it ill
To be thus slighted in his messenger.

Corn.
I'll answer that.

Reg.
My sister may receive it worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted. [Kent is put in the stocks.
Come, my lord, away. [Exeunt Reg. and Corn.

Glo.
I'm sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's pleasure,
Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
Will not be check'd nor stop'd. I'll intreat 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.

Kent.
Approach, thou beacon to this underglobe, [Looking up to the moon.
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter. I know, 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscure course. 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. [Sleeps.

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