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 34! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted 35 villain 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 intrinse t'unloose: smooth every, passion That in the natures of their lords rebels; Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; 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. This is some fellow, Corn. A saucy roughness; and constrains the garb, These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain ness 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, Corn. What mean'st by this? Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discom mend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: he that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to it. Corn. What was the offence you gave him? It pleas'd the king his master, very late, To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards, But Ajax is their fool 37. Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho! You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend 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, show too bold malice Corn. Fetch forth the stocks: As I've 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: His fault is much, and the good king his master Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches, For pilferings and most common trespasses, Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill, That he's so slightly valued in his messenger, Should have him thus restrain'd. Corn. I'll answer that. Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse, To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted, For following her affairs.-Put in his legs. [Kent is put in the stocks. Come, my good lord; away. [Exeunt Reg. and Corn. 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 stopp'd: I'll entreat for thee. Kent. Pray, do not, sir: I have watch'd and travell'd hard; Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. 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 heaven's benediction com'st To the warm sun! Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, Peruse this letter!-Nothing almost sees miracles, Of my obscured course; 38 and shall find time From this enormous state,-seeking 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. SCENE III. A Part of the Heath. Enter EDGAR. Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd; And, by the happy hollow of a tree, Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place, I will preserve myself: and am bethought |