Glou. Purfue him, ho. Go after.-By no means

what?

Edm. Perfuade me to the murder of your Lordfhip;

But that, I told him, the revenging Gods
"Gainft parricides did all their thunder bend;
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
The child was bound to th' father.-Sir, in fine,
Seeing how lothly oppofite I ftood

To his unnat'ral purpofe, in fell motion,
With his prepared fword, he charges home
My unprovided body, lanc'd my arm;
And when he faw my beft alarmed fpirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to th' encounter,
Or whether gafted * by the noise I made,
Full fuddenly he fled.

Glou. Let him fly far;

Not in this land fhall he remain uncaught;
And found-Difpatch. The noble Duke my master,
My worthy arch and patron †, comes to-night;
By his authority I will proclaim it,

That he who finds him fhall deferve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
He that conceals him, death.

Edm. When I diffuaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to do it, with curs'd speech
I threaten'd to discover him. He replied,
Thou unpoffefling baftard! doft thou think,
If I would ftand against thee, would the repofal
Of any truft, virtue, or worth in thee

Make thy words faith'd? No; when I fhould deny,
As this I would, although thou didst produce
My very character, I'd turn it all

To thy fuggeftion, plot, and damned practice;
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential fpurs
To make thee feek it.

[Trumpets within.

Glou. O ftrange, fasten'd villain!

i. 6. frighted. Johnson.

My worthy and arch-patron. Theob.

Would he deny his letter?-I never got him.-
Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he

comes.

-All ports I'll bar; the villain fhall not 'fcape; The Duke muft grant me that; befides, his picture I will fend far and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him. And of my land, · Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means To make thee capable.

S. CE NE II.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.

Corn. How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither,

Which I can call but now, I have heard strange

news.

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too fhort Which can purfue th' offender. How does my Lord? Glou. O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd.

Reg. What, did my father's godfon seek your life? He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar

Glou. O lady, lady, fhame would have it hid. Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knights

That tend upon my father?

Glou. I know not, Madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad. Edm. Yes, Madam, he was of that confort.

Reg. No marvel then though he were ill affected; 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, To have th' expence and wafte of his revenues. I have this prefent evening from my fifter Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions, That if they come to fojourn at my house, I'll not be there.

Corn. Nor I, I affure thee, Regan.

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

Edm. 'Twas my duty, Sir.

Glou. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd
VOL. VII.
M .

This hurt you fee striving to apprehend him.
Corn. Is he purfu'd?

Glou. Ay, my good Lord.

Corn. If he be taken, he fhall never more

.

Be fear'd of doing harm. Make your own purpofe,
How in my ftrength you please. As for you,
Edmund,

Whofe virtue and obedience in this inftance
So much commends itself, you shall be ours;
Natures of fuch deep truft we fhall much need:
You we first feize on.

Edm. I fhall ferve you, Sir,
Truly, however elfe.

Glou. I thank your Grace.

Corn. You know not why we came to vifit youReg. Thus out of feafon threading dark-ey'd night;

Occafions, noble Glo'fter, of fome prize,
Wherein we must have use of your advice.-
Our father he hath writ, fo hath our fifter,
Of diff'rences, which I beft 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 businesses,
Which crave the instant use.

Glou. I ferve you, Madam.

*Your Graces are right welcome.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

III.

Enter Kent and Steward, feverally.

Stew. Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this houfe?

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 woul make thee care for me.

Stew. Why doft thou use me thus? I know thee

not.

Kent. Fellow, I know thee.

Stew. What doft thou know me for?

Kent. A knave, a rafcal, an eater of broken meats, a bafe, proud, fhallow, beggarly, three-fuited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-ftocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave; a whorefon, glafs-gazing, fuper-serviceable, finical rogue; onetrunk-inheriting flave; one that wouldft be a bawd in way of good fervice; 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'it the leatt fyllable of thy addition.

Stew. Why, what a monftrous fellow art thou,. thus to rail on one that is neither known of thee, Bor knows thee!

Kent. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou know'ft me! Is it two days ago fince I tripp'd up thy heels, and beat thee before the King? Draw, you rogue; for though it be night, yet the moon thines I'll make a fop o' th' moonshine of you. You whorefon, cullionly barber-monger, draw."

[Drawing his fword.

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 fo carbonado your fhanks Draw, you rafcal. Come your ways.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help!

Kent. Strike, you flave. Stand, rogue, ftand, you neat flave, ftrike. [Beating him,

Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder!

4

SCENE IV.

Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and

Servants.

Edm. How now, what's the matter? Part

Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please. 'Come, I'l flefh ye. Come ou, young mafter. Glou. 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 so beftirr'd your vaJour; you cowardly rafcal. Nature difclaims all fhare in thee: a tailor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man?

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

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

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

Kent. Thou whorefon zed! thou unneceffary letter! My Lord, if you will give me leave, I will read this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard? you wagtail!

Coru. Peace, firrah!

You beaftly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent. Yes, Sir, but anger hath a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry?~

Kent. That fuch a flave as this fhould wear a fword,

Who wears no honefty. Such fmiling rogues as thefe,

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain

Too intrinficate * t' unloofe; foothe every paffion That in the nature of their Lords rebels,

By thefe boly cords the poet means the natural union between parents and children. The metaphor is taken from the cords of the fanctuary; and the fomenters of family differences are compared to these facrilegious rats. The expreffion is fine and noble. Warburton