Which I must act; briefnefs, and fortune work! My father watches; O Sir, fly this place, Edg. I'm fure on't, not a word. Baft. I hear my father coming. Pardon me→→ In cunning I muft draw my fword upon youDraw, feem to defend your felf. Now quit you well Yield come before my father-light hoa, here, Fly, brother-Torches ! -fo, farewel [Ex. Edg. Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion [wounds bis arm. Of my more fierce endeavour. I've feen drunkards Stop, ftop, no help ? SCENE III. To him, Enter Glo'fter, and Servants with torches. Baft. Here ftood he in the dark, his fharp fword out, Mumbling of wicked charms, conj'ring the moon To ftand his aufpicious mistress. Glo. But where is he? Baft. Look, Sir, I bleed. Glo. Where is the villain, Edmund ? 14 Baft. Fled this way, Sir, when by no means he could- 'Gainft parricides did all the thunder bend, Meaning, upon the party engaged by him against the Duke of Albany. Seeing Seeing how lothly oppofite I ftood Bold in the quarrel's right, rouz'd to th' encounter; Glo. Let him fly far; Not in this land fhall he remain uncaught: That he which finds him fhall deferve our thanks Baft. When I diffwaded him from his intent, Would make thy words faith'd? no, what I'd deny, To thy fuggeftion, plot, and damned practice; Glo. O ftrange, faften'd villain! [Trumpets within. Would he deny his letter, faid he ? hark! Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes- The Duke muft grant me that; befides, his picture SCENE Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants. Corn. How now, my noble friend? fince I came hither, Which I can call but now, I have heard ftrange news. Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too fhort Which can pursue th' offender; how does my Lord ? Glo. O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd. Reg. What, did my father's godfon feek your life? He whom my father nam'd, your Edgar? He? Glo. O Lady, Lady, fhame would have it hid. Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous Knights That tended on my father? Glo. I know not, Madam; 'tis too bad, too bad. I'll not be there. Gorn. Nor I, affure thee, Regan; Edmund, I hear that you have fhewn your father Baft. It's my duty, Sir.' Glo. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd This hurt you fee, ftriving to apprehend him, Corn. Is he pursued? Glo. Ay, my good Lord, he is. Gorn. If he be taken, he fhall never more Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose, So much commend itself, you fhall be ours; Baft. I fhall ferve you, Sir, Truly, however else. Glo. I thank your Grace. Corn. You know not why we came to vifit you Thus Thus out of feafon thredding dark-ey'd night. Glo. I ferve you, Madam; Your Graces are right welcome. SCENE V. Enter Kent, and Steward, feverally. [Exeunt. Stew. Good dawning to thee, friend; art of this house? Kent. Ay. Stew. Where may we fet our horfes ? Kent. I'th' mire. Stew. Prythee, if thou lov'ft me tell me. Kent. I love thee not, Stew. Why then I care not for thee. Kent. If I had thee in Lipfbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me. Stew. Why doft thou ufe me thus? I know thee not. Kent. Fellow, I know thee. Stew. What doft thou know me for? Kent. A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats, a bafe, proud, fhallow, beggarly, three fuited, hundred-pound, filthy woofted-ftocking knave; a lilly-liver'd, action-taking, whorfon, glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; onetrunk-inheriting flave; one that would't be a bawd in way of good service; and art nothing but the compofition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the fon and heir of a mungril bitch; one whom I will beat into clam'rous whining, if thou deny'ft the leaft fyllable of thy addition. Stew. Why, what a monftrous 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 knoweft me! is it two days fince I tript up thy heels, and beat thee before the King? draw, you rogue; for tho' it be night, yet the moon fhines; I'll make a fop o'th' moonfhine of you; you whorfon, cullionly barber-monger, draw. [Drawing bis ford. Stew. Away, I have nothing to do with thee. Kent. Draw, you rafcal; 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 fo carbonado your fhanks-draw, you rafcal, come your ways. Stew. Help, ho! murther! help! Kent. Strike, you flave; ftand, rogue, ftand, you neatflave, ftrike! [Beating bim. Stew, Help, ho! murther! murther! Enter Baftard, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and Servants. Baft. How now, what's the matter? Part Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; come, I'll flesh ye; come on, young master. 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? Stew. I am fcarce 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. A tailor, Sir? a ftone-cutter, or a painter could not have made him fo ill, tho' they had been but two hours o'th' trade. Corn. Speak you, how grew your quarrel? Stew. This ancient ruffian, Sir, 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 wag-tail !— Corn. Peace, Sirrah! Corn. |