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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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SCENE V. Enter Kent, and Steward, severally.

Stew.

8 noteGood downing 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 lov'st me, tell me.

-- 48 --

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 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, pander, and the son and heir of a mungril bitch; one whom I will beat into clamr'ous 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 know'st me? is it two days ago, since I tript up thy heels, and beat thee before the King? draw, you rogue; for tho' it be night, yet the moon shines; 9 note



I'll make a sop o'th' moonshine of you; you whorson, cullionly, barber-monger, draw.

[Drawing his sword.

-- 49 --

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.

[Beating him.

Stew.

Help ho! murther! murther!—

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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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