Edmund, I hear, that you have fhewn your father A child-like office.

Edm. 'Twas my duty, fir.

Glo. He did reveal his practice, and receiv'd This hurt you fee, ftriving to apprehend him. Corn. Is he purfu'd?

Glo. Ay, my good lord.

Corn. If he be taken, he fhall never more Be fear'd of doing harm. As for you, Edmund, Whofe virtue and obedience doth this inftant So much commend itself, you shall be ours: Natures of fuch deep truft we shall much need. Edm. I fhall ferve you, fir, truly, however elfe. Glo. I thank your grace.

Reg. Our father he hath writ, fo hath our fifter, Of diff'rences, which I best thought it fit To answer from our home: the fev'ral meffengers From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, Lay comforts to your bofom; and bestow Your needful counfel to our bufineffes, Which crave the inftant ufe.

Glo. I ferve you, madam.

Enter Steward and Kent, with fwords drawn. Glo. Weapons? arms? what's the matter here? Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; he dies, that ftrikes again; what's the matter?

Reg. The meffengers from our fifter and the King?
Corn. What is your difference? speak."
Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have fo beftir'd your valour; you cowardly rafcal! nature difclaims all fhare in thee: a tailor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a ftrange fellow; a tailor make a

man?

Kent. Ay, a tailor, fir; a ftone-cutter, or a painter could not have made him fo ill, though they had been but two hours o'th' trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
C 4

Stew.

Stew. This ancient ruffian, fir, whofe life I have fpar'd at fuit of his grey beard

Kent. Thou whorfon zed! thou unneceffary 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, firrah! Know you no reverence?
Kent. Yes, fir, but anger hath a privilege,
Corn. Why art thou angry?

Kent. That fuch a flave as this fhou'd wear a
fword,

Who wears no honefty: fuch fmiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain
Too intricate to unloofe: footh every paffion,
That in the nature of their lords rebels:
Bring oil to fire, fnow to their colder moods;
Forfwear, 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 vifage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goofe, 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? fay that,

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
Than I and fuch a knave.

Corn. Why doft 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 feen better faces in my time,

Than ftand on any fhoulders that I fee
Before me at this inftant.qar

Corn. This is fome fellow,

Who having been prais'd for bluntnefs, doth affect

A fawcy

A fawcy roughness; and conftrains 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, fo, if not, he's plain.
Thefe kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupt defign,
Than twenty filly ducking minions,
That ftretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good faith, in fincere verity, Under th' allowance of your grand afpect, Whofe influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering Phoebus' front

Corn. What mean'ft by this?

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you difcommend so much: I know fir, 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 fhould win your difpleafure 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 mafter very lately
To ftrike at me upon his mifconstruction;
When he conjunct, and flatt'ring his displeasure,
Tript me behind; being down, infulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That he got praises of the King,

For him attempting who was felf-fubdu'd;
And in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again,

Kent. None of thefe rogues and cowards,
But Ajax is their fool.

Corn. Fetch forth the ftocks!

You ftubborn 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 ferve the King;
On whofe employment I was fent to you.

You fhall do fmall refpect, fhew too bold malice
Against the grace and perfon of
Stocking his meffenger.

my mafter,

Corn.

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks;

As I have life and honour, there fhall he fit '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 ufe me fo.

Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. [Stocks brought out. Corn. This is a fellow of the felf fame nature Our fifter speaks of Come, bring away the ftocks, Glo. Let me befeech your grace not to do fo; His fault is much, and the good King his master Will check him for it; but muft take it ill To be thus flighted in his meffenger.

Corn. I'll answer that.

Reg. My fifter may receive it worse,"

To have her gentleman abus'd, affaulted.

Come, my lord, away.
Glo. I'm forry for thee,
pleasure,

[Kent is put in the stocks.

[Exeunt Reg and Corn. friend; 'tis the Duke's

Whose difpofition, all the world well knows,
Will not be check'd nor ftop'd. I'll intreat for thee.
Kent. Pray, do not, fir, I've watch'd and travell'd
hard;

Some time I shall fleep 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. Approach, thou beacon to this under[Looking up to the moon. That by thy comfortable beams I may

globe,

Perufe this letter. I know, 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd

Of my

obfcure course. All weary and.o'er watch'd,

Take vantage heavy eyes, not to behold
This fhameful lodging.

Fortune, good night; fmile once more,

wheel.

turn thy [Sleeps. SCENE

SCENE changes to a part of a Heath.
Enter Edgar.

Edg. I've heard myself proclaim'd;
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,
Efcap'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 myself: and am bethought
To take the baseft and the poorest shape,
That ever Penury in contempt of man

Brought near to beaft: my face I will befmear,
Blanket my loins; elfe all my hair in knots;
And out-face

The winds, and perfecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortify'd bare arms
Pins, iron-fpikes, thorns, fprigs of rosemary;
And thus from sheep-cotes, villages, and mills,
Inforce their charity; poor Turlygood! poor Tom!
That's fomething yet: Edgar I nothing am. [Exit.
SCENE changes, again, to the Earl of Glocefter's
Caftle.

Kent in the flocks. Enter Lear and Attendants. Lear. 'Tis ftrange, that they should fo depart from home,

And not fend back my meffenger.

Kent. Hail to thee, noble mafter!.

Lear. Ha! mak'ft thou thy fhame thy paftime? Kent. No, my lord.

Lear. What's he, that hath fo much thy place miftook,