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, he is. 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. -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;
You we first seize on.

Edm.

Truly, however else.

Glo.

I shall serve you, sir,

For him I thank your grace.

Corn. You know not why we came to visit you, Reg. Thus out of season; threading dark-ey'd night. Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poize,3

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 home1; the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow

Your needful counsel to our business,

Which craves the instant use.

Glo.

Your graces are right welcome.

I serve you, madam :

[Exeunt.

He did bewray his practice;] i. e. Discover, betray. Practice is

always used by Shakspeare for insidious mischief.

3

4

of some poize,] i. e. of some weight or moment. - from our home ;] Not at home, elsewhere.

SCENE II.

Before Gloster's Castle.

Enter KENT and Steward, severally.

Stew. Good dawning to thee, friend: Art of the house?

Kent. Ay.

Stew. Where may we set our horses?

Kent. I'the 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 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, hundredpound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knaves; a whorson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, 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 mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition.6

Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus

action-taking knave;] i. e. a fellow, who, if you beat him, would bring an action for the assault.

6—

addition.] i. e. titles. These titles were probably familiar in Shakspeare's time among the lower classes, although their meaning be now lost. The conjectures of the annotators have been but idly employed on them.

to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee?

Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou know'st me? Is it two days ago, since I tripp'd up thy heels, and beat thee, before the king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, the moon shines; I'll make a sop o'the moonshine of you: Draw, you whorson cullionly barber-monger, draw. [Drawing his Sword. 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! murder! help!

Kent. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat slave, strike.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder!

[Beating him.

Enter EDMUND, CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and
Servants.

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, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.

7

vanity the puppet's part,] Alluding to the old moralities, in which vanity, iniquity, and other vices, were personified.

8

neat slave,] You finical rascal.

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. Thou whorson zed! thou unnecessary letter ! - My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain9 into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard, you wagtail? Corn. Peace, sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

Kent. Yes, sir; but anger has 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 in twain

Which are too intrinse1 t'unloose: smooth every passion
That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon 2 beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following.
A plague upon your epileptick visage ! 3
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?

3

9 this unbolted villain-] Unbolted mortar is mortar made of unsifted lime, and therefore to break the lumps it is necessary to tread it by men in wooden shoes. This unbolted villain is therefore this coarse rascal.

Which are too intrinse] for intrinsecate.

2 and turn their halcyon beaks, &c.] The halcyon is the bird otherwise called the king-fisher. The vulgar opinion was, that this bird, if hung up, would vary with the wind, and by that means show from what point it blew.

3 — epileptick visage !] The frighted countenance of a man ready to fall in a fit.

Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.1
Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow?
Glo.
Say that.

How fell you out?

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

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

Kent. His countenance likes me not."

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 stands on any shoulder that I see

Before me at this instant.

Corn.

This is some fellow,

Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect

A saucy roughness; and 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,

Than twenty silly ducking observants,

That stretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,

Under the allowance of your grand aspéct,

Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phoebus' front."

4

Camelot.] was the place where the romances say king Arthur kept his court in the West; so this alludes to some proverbial speech in those romances.

likes me not.] i. e. pleases me not.

constrains the garb,

Quite from his nature:] Forces his outside or his appearance to something totally different from his natural disposition.

7 On flickering Phœbus' front,] To flicker is to flutter; like the motion of a flame.