The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 277

Not in this land shall he remain uncaught; And found- dispatch. The n.o.ble Duke my master, My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night.

By his authority I will proclaim it That he which find, him shall deserve our thanks, Bringing the murderous caitiff to the stake; He that conceals him, death.

Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent And found him pight to do it, with curst speech I threaten'd to discover him. He replied, 'Thou unpossessing b.a.s.t.a.r.d, dost thou think, If I would stand against thee, would the reposal Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee Make thy words faith'd? No. What I should deny (As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce My very character), I'ld turn it all To thy suggestion, plot, and d.a.m.ned practice; And thou must make a dullard of the world, If they not thought the profits of my death Were very pregnant and potential spurs To make thee seek it.'

Glou. Strong and fast'ned villain!

Would he deny his letter? I never got him.

Tucket within.

Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes.

All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not scape; The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture I will send 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.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.

Corn. How now, my n.o.ble 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 short Which can pursue th' offender. How dost, my lord?

Glou. O madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd!

Reg. What, did my father's G.o.dson seek your life?

He whom my father nam'd? Your Edgar?

Glou. O lady, lady, shame 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 consort.

Reg. No marvel then though he were ill affected.

'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, To have th' expense and waste of his revenues.

I have this present evening from my sister Been well inform'd of them, and with such cautions That, if they come to sojourn at my house, I'll not be there.

Corn. Nor I, a.s.sure thee, Regan.

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father A childlike office.

Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir.

Glou. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

Corn. Is he pursued?

Glou. Ay, my good lord.

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. I shall serve you, sir, Truly, however else.

Glou. 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, n.o.ble Gloucester, of some poise, 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 home. The several messengers From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow Your needful counsel to our business, Which craves the instant use.

Glou. I serve you, madam.

Your Graces are right welcome.

Exeunt. Flourish.

Scene II.

Before Gloucester's Castle.

Enter Kent and [Oswald the] Steward, severally.

Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house?

Kent. Ay.

Osw. Where may we set our horses?

Kent. I' th' mire.

Osw. Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me.

Kent. I love thee not.

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?

Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking, wh.o.r.eson, gla.s.s-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst 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 b.i.t.c.h; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny the least syllable of thy addition.

Osw. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one that's 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 ago since I beat thee and tripp'd up thy heels before the King? [Draws his sword.] Draw, you rogue! for, though it be night, yet the moon s.h.i.+nes. I'll make a sop o' th'

moons.h.i.+ne o' you. Draw, you wh.o.r.eson cullionly barbermonger!

draw!

Osw. 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!

Osw. Help, ho! murther! help!

Kent. Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat slave!

Strike! [Beats him.]

Osw. Help, ho! murther! murther!

Enter Edmund, with his rapier drawn, Gloucester, Cornwall, Regan, Servants.

Edm. How now? What's the matter? Parts [them].

Kent. With you, goodman boy, an you please! Come, I'll flesh ye!

Come on, young master!

Glou. 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.

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?

Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though he had been but two hours at the trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

Osw. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd At suit of his grey beard- Kent. Thou wh.o.r.eson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you'll give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the walls 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 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, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every pa.s.sion That in the natures of their lords rebel, Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks With every gale and vary of their masters, Knowing naught (like dogs) but following.

A plague upon your epileptic visage!

Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?

Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain, I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot.

Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow?

Glou. How fell you out? Say that.

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

Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault?