My father hath fet guard to take my brother, My father watches; O Sir, fly this place, Edg. I'm fure on't, not a word. Edm. I hear my father coming. Pardon me In cunning, I muft draw my fword upon you. Draw, feem to defend yourself. Now quit you well Yield come before my father-light hoa, here!→→→ Fly, brother-Torches!-fo farewel- [Ex. Edg. Some blood, drawn on me, would beget opinion. [Wounds his arm. Of my more fierce endeavour. I've feen drunkards Do more than this in fport. Father! father! Stop, ftop, no help ?. To him, Enter Glo'fter, and fervants with torches. Edm. Here ftood he in the dark, his fharp fword out, Glo. But where is he? Edm. Look, Sir, I bleed. Glo. Where is the villain, Edmund ? Edm. Fled this way, Sir, when by no means he could-Glo. Purfue him, ho! go after. By no means, whatEdm. Perfuade me to the murder of your lordship; But that, I told him, the revenging Gods 'Gainft Parricides did all the thunder bend, Spoke Sir, in fine, Spoke with how manifold and ftrong a bond Glo. Let him fly far; Not in this land fhall he remain uncaught And found; difpatch-the noble Duke my mafter, That he, which finds him, fhall deferve our thanks, Edm. When I diffuaded him from his intent, Make thy words faith'd? no; what I fhould deny, To thy fuggeftion, plot, and damned practices [Trumpets within Glo. O ftrange, faften'd, villain! (13) My worthy arch and patron.] I can meet with no authority of this word ufed in this manner, to fignify, 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 fuppofe a tranfpofition of the copulative, and that we ought to read, arcb-patron, as arch-duke, arch-angel,. arch-bishop, &c. Hark, Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes- Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants. Corn. How now, my noble friend? fince I came hither, Which I can call but now, I have heard ftrange news, Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too fhort, 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 godfon feek 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. 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 waste of his revenues. I have this prefent evening from my fifter Been well inform'd of them; and with fuch cautions, That if they come to fojourn at my house, I'll not be there. Corn. Nor I, affure thee, Regan; Edmund, I hear, that you have fhewn A child-like office. Edm. 'Twas my duty, Sir. your father Glo. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd This hurt you fee, ftriving to apprehend him. Corn. Is he pursued? Go. 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 pleafe. As for you, Edmund, Whofe virtue and obedience doth this inftant So So much commend itself, you shall be ours; Edm. 1 fhall ferve you, Sir, Truly, however elfe. Glo. I thank your Grace. Corn. You know not why we came to vifit you Reg. Thus out of feafon threading dark-ey'd night; (14) 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 Which crave the inftant ufe. Glo. I ferve you, Madam : Your Graces are right welcome. Enter Kent, and Steward, feverally. [Exeunt. Stew. Good evening to thee, friend; art of this house? Kent. Ay. Stew. Where may we set our horfes ? Kent. I' th' mire. Stew. Pr'ythee, if thou lov'st 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 would make thee care for me. Stew. Why doft thou ufe me thus? I know thee not. Kent. Fellow, I know thee. Stew. What doft thou know me for ? (14) -threading dark-ey'd night.] I have not ventur'd to difplace this reading, tho' I have great fufpicion that the poet wrote, ·treading dark-ey'd night. i. e. travelling in it. The other carries too obfcure, and mean an allufion. It must either be borrow'd from the cant-phrase of threading of alleys, i. e. going thro' bye-paffages to avoid the high ftreets; or to threading a needle in the dark. Kent. Kent. A knave, a rafcal, an eater of broken meats, a bafe, proud, fhallow, beggarly, three-fuited, hundred-pound, filthy worfted-ftocking knave; a lilly-liver'd, action-taking, knave; a whorfon, glafs-gazing, fuperferviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting flave; one that would't 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'ft the leaft fyllable of thy addition. Stew. Why, what a monftrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee? Kent. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou know'ft me? is it two days ago, fince I tript up thy heels, and beat thee before the King? draw, you rogue; for tho' it be night, yet the moon fhines; I'll make a fop o' th' moonfhine of you; you whorfon, cullionly, barber-monger, draw. [Drawing his word. Stew. Away, I have nothing to do with thee. Kent. Draw, you rafcal; 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 fhanks-draw, you rascal, come your ways. Stew. Help, ho! murder! help! Kent. Strike, you flave; ftand, rogue, ftand, you neat flave, ftrike. [Beating him. Stew. Help ho! murder! murder ! Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and Servants. Edm. How now, what's the matter? Part Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you pleafe; come, I'll flesh ye; come on, young mafter. Glo. 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 fiffer and the King? Corn. What is your difference? speak. Stewy |