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?
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.
Corn. This is some fellow
Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb
Quite from his nature. He cannot
flatter, he!
An honest mind and plain-he must speak truth!
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know which in this plainness
Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends
Than twenty silly-ducking observants
That stretch their duties nicely.
Kent. Sir, in good faith, in
sincere verity,
Under th'
allowance of your great aspect,
Whose influence, like the
wreath of
radiant fire
On flickering Phoebus' front-
Corn. What mean'st by this?
Kent. To go out of my
dialect, which you dis
commend so much. I
know, sir, I am no
flatterer. He that beguil'd 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't.
Corn. What was th' offence you gave him?
Osw. I never gave him any.
It pleas'd the King his master very late
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, conjunct, and
flattering his
displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd
And put upon him such a deal of man
That worthied him, got praises of the King
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.
Kent. None of these rogues and
cowards
But Ajax is their fool.
Corn. Fetch forth the stocks!
You
stubborn ancient knave, you reverent 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
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.
Corn. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have 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.
Corn. This is a fellow of the
selfsame colour
Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks!
Stocks brought out.
Glou. 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 contemn'dest wretches
For pilf'rings and most common
trespasses
Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill
That he, 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 [all but Gloucester and Kent].
Glou. 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.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels.
Give you good morrow!
Glou. 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,
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
But
misery. I know 'tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most
fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course-and [reads] 'shall find time
From this
enormous state, seeking to give
Losses their remedies'-All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take
vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This
shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel. Sleeps.
Scene III.
The open country.
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
That guard and most
unusual vigilance
Does not attend my
taking. Whiles I may scape,
I will
preserve myself; and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury, in
contempt of man,
Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth,
Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots,
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins,
wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this
horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills,
Sometime with
lunatic bans,
sometime with prayers,
Enforce their
charity. 'Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!'
That's something yet! Edgar I nothing am. Exit.
Scene IV.
Before Gloucester's Castle; Kent in the stocks.
Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.
Lear. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger.
Gent. As I learn'd,
The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.
Kent. Hail to thee, noble master!
Lear. Ha!
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
Kent. No, my lord.
Fool. Ha, ha! look! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the
head, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men
by th' legs. When a man's over-lusty at legs, then he wears
wooden nether-stocks.
Lear. What's he that hath so much thy place mistook
To set thee here?
Kent. It is both he and she-
Your son and daughter.
Lear. No.
Kent. Yes.
Lear. No, I say.
Kent. I say yea.
Lear. No, no, they would not!
Kent. Yes, they have.
Lear. By Jupiter, I swear no!
Kent. By Juno, I swear ay!
Lear. They durst not do't;
They would not, could not do't. 'Tis worse than murther
To do upon respect such
violent outrage.
Resolve me with all
modest haste which way
Thou mightst
deserve or they
impose this usage,
Coming from us.
Kent. My lord, when at their home
I did
commend your Highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half
breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his
mistress salutations;
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
Which
presently they read; on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse,
Commanded me to follow and attend
The
leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks,
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose
welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine-
Being the very fellow which of late
Display'd so saucily against your Highness-
Having more man than wit about me, drew.
He rais'd the house with loud and
coward cries.
Your son and daughter found this
trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.
Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind;
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that
arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor.
But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy
daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
Hysterica passio! Down, thou climbing sorrow!
Thy element's below! Where is this daughter?
Kent. With the Earl, sir, here within.
Lear. Follow me not;
Stay here.
Exit.
Gent. Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
Kent. None.
How chance the King comes with so small a number?
Fool. An thou hadst been set i' th' stocks for that question,
thou'dst well deserv'd it.
Kent. Why, fool?
Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no
labouring i' th' winter. All that follow their noses are led by
their eyes but blind men, and there's not a nose among twenty
but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great
wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following