Page:Shakespeare - First Folio Faithfully Reproduced, Methuen, 1910.djvu/807

Rh But that I told him the reuenging Gods, 'Gainst Paricides did all the thunder bend, Spoke with how manifold, and strong a Bond The Child was bound to'th' Father; Sir in fine, Seeing how lothly opposite I stood To his vnnaturall purpose, in fell motion With his prepared Sword, he charges home My vnprouided body, latch'd mine arme; And when he saw my best alarum'd spirits Bold in the quarrels right, rouz'd to th' encounter, Or whether gasted by the noyse I made, Full sodainely he fled.

Glost. Let him fly farre: Not in this Land shall he remaine vncaught And found; dispatch, the Noble Duke my Master, My worthy Arch and Patron comes to night, By his authoritie I will proclaime it, That he which finds him shall deserue our thankes, Bringing the murderous Coward to the stake: He that conceales him death.

Bast. When I disswaded him from his intent, And found him pight to doe it, with curst speech I threaten'd to discouer him; he replied, Thou vnpossessing Bastard, dost thou thinke, If I would stand against thee, would the reposall Of any trust, vertue, or worth in thee Make thy words faith'd? No, what should I denie, (As this I would, though thou didst produce My very Character) I'ld turne it all To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise: And thou must make a dullard of the world, If they not thought the profits of my death Were very pregnant and potentiall spirits To make thee seeke it.

Glo. O strange and fastned Villaine, Would he deny his Letter, said he? Harke, the Dukes Trumpets, I know not wher he comes; All Ports Ile barre, the villaine shall not scape, The Duke must grant me that: besides, his picture I will send farre and neere, that all the kingdome May haue due note of him, and of my land, (Loyall and naturall Boy) Ile worke the meanes To make thee capable.

Corn. How now my Noble friend, since I came hither (Which I can call but now,) I haue heard strangenesse.

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short Which can pursue th'offender; how dost my Lord?

Glo. O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd.

Reg. What, did my Fathers Godsonne seeke your life? He whom my Father nam'd, your Edgar?

Glo. O Lady, Lady, shame would haue it hid.

Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous Knights That tended vpon my Father?

Glo. I know not Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad.

Bast. Yes Madam, he was of that consort.

Reg. No maruaile then, though he were ill affected, 'Tis they haue put him on the old mans death, To haue th'expence and wast of his Reuenues: I haue this present euening from my Sister Beene well inform'd of them, and with such cautions, That if they come to soiourne at my house, Ile not be there.

Cor. Nor I, assure thee Regan; Edmund, I heare that you haue shewne your Father A Child‐like Office.

Bast. It was my duty Sir.

Glo. He did bewray his practise, and receiu'd This hurt you see, striuing to apprehend him.

Cor. Is he pursued?

Glo. I my good Lord.

Cor. If he be taken, he shall neuer more Be fear'd of doing harme, make your owne purpose, How in my strength you please: for you Edmund, Whose vertue and obedience doth this instant So much commend it selfe, you shall be ours, Nature's of such deepe trust, we shall much need: You we first seize on.

Bast. I shall serue you Sir truely, how euer else.

Glo. For him I thanke your Grace.

Cor. You know not why we came to visit you?

Reg. Thus out of season, thredding darke ey'd night, Occasions Noble Gloster of some prize, Wherein we must haue vse of your aduise. Our Father he hath writ, so hath our Sister, Of differences, which I best thought it fit To answere from our home: the seuerall Messengers From hence attend dispatch, our good old Friend, Lay comforts to your bosome, and bestow Your needfull counsaile to our businesses, Which craues the instant vse.

Glo. I serue you Madam, Your Graces are right welcome.

Scena Secunda.

Stew. Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?

Kent. I.

Stew. Where may we set our horses?

Kent. I'th' myre.

Stew. Prythee, if thou lou'st me, tell me.

Kent. I loue thee not.

Ste. Why then I care not for thee.

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

Ste. Why do'st thou vse me thus? I know thee not.

Kent. Fellow I know thee.

Ste. What do'st thou know me for?

Kent. A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a base, proud, shallow, beggerly, three‐suited‐hundred pound, filthy woosted‐stocking knaue, a Lilly‐liuered, action‐taking, whoreson glasse‐gazing super‐seruiceable finicall Rogue, one Trunke‐inheriting slaue, one that would'st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art nothing but the composition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward, Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch, one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou deny'st the least sillable of thy addition.

Stew. Why, what a monstrous Fellow art thou, thus to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor knowes thee?

Kent. What a brazen‐fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me? Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy heeles, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,