To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion Full suddenly he fled. Let him fly far: And, found, dispatch. The noble Duke my master, By his authority I will proclaim it, That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks, EDM. When I dissuaded him from his intent, Thou unpossessing Bastard! dost thou think, GLOU. comes. All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape; I will send far and near, that all the Kingdom Make thy words faith'd? No: what I should deny To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice: Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he 1 frightened. 50 60 70 80 ACT. II Sc. I ACT II Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Attendants. Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my Lord? That tend upon my father? Truly, however else. I plotting. 91 100 REG. Thus out of season, threading dark-ey'd night: Your Graces are right welcome. I serve you, Madam: [exeunt. SCENE II. Before GLOUCESTER's Castle. Enter KENT and OSWALD, severally. Osw. Good dawning to thee, Friend: art of this house? Osw. Where may we set our horses? KENT. I' the mire. Osw. Pr'ythee, if thou lovest me, tell me. KENT. I love thee not. 120 Osw. Why, then I care not for thee. KENT. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me. Osw. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. KENT. Fellow, I know thee. Osw. What dost thou know me for? 1 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, whoreson, 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 deniest the least syllable of thy addition. 22 Osw. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to away from. ΤΟ ACT II ACT II rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee! KENT. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me! Is it two days since I tripp'd up thy heels and beat thee before the King? Draw, you Rogue! for, though it be night, yet the Moon shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you. [drawing his sword.] Draw, you whoreson cullionly Barbermonger, draw! Osw. Away! I have nothing to do with thee. 32 ways. Osw. Help, ho! murder! help! KENT. Strike, you Slave! stand, Rogue, stand; you neat1 [beating him. Osw. Help, ho! murder! murder ! Enter EDMUND, with his rapier drawn, CORNWALL, 42 EDM. How now! What's the matter? KENT. With you, goodman Boy, if you please: come, I'll flesh ye; come on, young Master. GLOU. Weapons? arms? what's the matter here? He dies that strikes again. What is the matter? Osw. 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. CORN. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man? 50 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' the trade. CORN. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? 1 finical. 60 Osw. This ancient ruffian, Sir, whose life I have spar'd at ACT II Sc. II suit of his gray beard KENT. Thou whoreson 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 gray beard, you Wagtail? CORN. Peace, sirrah! You beastly Knave, know you no reverence? KENT. Yes, Sir; but anger hath 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, Which are too intrinse1 to unloose; smooth every passion I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot. 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, nor his, nor her's. I have seen better faces in my time ༡༠ 297 80 91 |