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My father hath fet guard to take my brother,
To him, Enter Edgar.
Edg. I'm sure on't, not a word.
Edm. I hear my father coming. Pardon meIn cunning, I must draw my sword upon you Draw, seem to defend yourself. Now quit you wellYield come before my father-light hoa, here! Fly, brother-Torches !--so farewel [Ex. Edg. Some blood, drawn on me, would beget opinion.
[Wounds his arm.
To him, Enter Glo'fter, and servants with torches.
Edm. Here ftood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Glo. But where is he?
Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship; But that, I told him, the revenging Gods 'Gainst Parricides did all the thunder bend,
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
Glo. Let him fly far;
Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent,
[Trumpets withini Glo. O ftrange, faften'd, villain ! Would he deny his letter? -I never got him.
(13) My wortby arch and patron. ) I can meet with no authority of this word used in this manner, to signify, my prince, my chief; but always as an epitatic particle prefix'd and annex'd to another noun : and therefore I have ventur’d to suppose a transposition of the copula, tive, and that we ought to read, arcb-patron, as arch-duke, arch-angel, arcb-bishop, &c.
Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes--
Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.
vengeance comes too short, 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 godson seek your life? He whom my father nam'd, your Edgar?
Glo. O lady, lady, Shame would have it hid. Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous Knights, That tend upon my father ?
Glo. I know not, Madam : 'tis too bad, too bad.
Corn. Nor 1, afsure thee, Regan;
Edm. 'Twas my duty, Sir.
Glo. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd
Corn. Is he pursued ?
Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more
So much commend itself, you shall be ours ;
Edm. I shall serve you, Sir,
Reg. Thus out of season threading dark-ey’dnight; (14)
Glo. I serve you, Madam :
[Exeunt. Enter Kent, and Steward, severally. Siew. Good evening to thee, friend; art of this house? Kent. Ay. Stew. Where may we set our horses ? Kent. I'th' mire. Stew. Pr’ythee, if thou lov'it me, tell me. Kent. I love thee not. Stew. Why then I care not for thee.
Kent. If I had thee in Lipfoury pinfold, I would 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 ? (14) -threading dark-ey'd nigbe.) I have not ventur'd to displace this reading, tho' I have great suspicion that the poet wrote,
treading dark-ey'd night. lie. travelling in it. The other carries too obscure, and mean an allufion. It must either be borrow'd from the cant-phrase of threading of alleys, i. e. going thro' bye-passages to avoid the high streets; or to tbreading a needle in the dark.
Kent. A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats, a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hun. dred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lilly-liver'd, action-taking, knave; a whorson, glafs-gazing, superserviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting flave; one that would'st be a bawd in way of good fervice; and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mungril bitch ; one whom I will beat into clam'rous whining, if thou deny'st the leaft syllable of thy addition.
Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, nor knowsthee?
Kent. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou know'st me? is it two days ago, since I tript up thy heels, and beat thee before the King! draw, you rogue; for tho' it be night, yet the moon shines ; I'll make a sop o'th' moonshine of you; you whorson, culo lionly, barber-monger, draw. [Drawing his sword.
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 rascal, come your ways.
Stew. Help, ho! murder ! help!
Kent. Strike, you slave; ftand, rogue, ftand, you neat flave, strike.
[Beating him. Stew. Help ho! murder! murder ! Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'ster, and Servantsi
Edm. How now, what's the matter? PartKent. 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 itrikes again; what's the matter?
Reg. The messengers from our fiffer and the King ? Corn. What is your difference? speak.