Gent. Ready, my Lord, Lear. Come, Boy. Fool. She that's a Maid now, and laughs at my departure, Shall not be a Maid long, unless things be cut fhorter. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. SCENE A Caftle belonging to the Earl of Baft. Glofter. Enter Baftard, and Curan, severally. SAV Cur. And you, Sir, I have been With your Father, and given him Notice That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Dutchefs Baft. How comes that? Cur. Nay I know not; you have heard of the News abroad, I mean the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but Ear-kiffing Arguments. Baft. Not I; pray you what are they? Cur. Have you heard of no likely Wars toward, 'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ? Baft. Not a word. Cur. You may do then in time, Fare you well, Sir. [Exit. Baft. The Duke be here to Night! the better, beft, Enter Edgar. Brother, a word, defcend, Brother, I fay, He's He's coming hither, now i'th' Night, i'th' hafte, Edg. I am fure on't, not a word. Baft. I hear my Father coming, pardon me In cunning, I muft draw my Sword upon you Draw, feem to defend your felf. Now quit you well Yield come before my Father light hoa, here, [Exit Edgar. Fly, Brother Torches ! --- fo farewel [Wounds his Arm. Enter Glofter, and Servants with Torches. Glo. Now Edmund, where's the Villain? Baft. Here ftood he in the dark, his fharp Sword out, Mumbling of wicked Charms, conjuring the Moon To ftand his aufpicious Mistress. Glo. But where is he? Baft. Look, Sir, I bleed. Glo. Where is the Villain, Edmund ? Baft. Fled this way, Sir, when by no means he could ----Glo. Purfue him, ho! go after. By no means, what? ---Baft. Perfwade me to the Murther of your Lordship; But that I told him the revenging Gods, 'Gainft Parricides did all the Thunder bend, To his unnatural purpofe, in fell Motion Glo. Let him fly far; Not in this Land fhall he remain uncaught Ee 3 And And found; Difpatch, the Noble Duke, my Master, That he which finds him shall deserve our Thanks, Baft. When I diffwaded him from his intent, To thy Suggeftion, Plot, and damned Practice; Glo. O ftrange and fastned Villain! [Trumpets within. Hark, the Duke's Trumpets! I know not why he comes ---- The Duke muft grant me that; befides his Picture Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants. Corn. How now, my noble Friend? fince I came hither, Which I can call but now, I have heard ftrangeness. Reg. If it be true, all Vengeance comes too fhort Which can purfue 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, fhame would have it hid. Reg. Was he not Companion with the riotous Knights That tended upon my Father? Glo. Glo, I know not, Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad. Reg. No marvel then, though he were ill-affected; Corn. Nor I, affure thee, Regan ; Edmund, I hear that you have fhewn your Father Baft. It is my Duty, Sir. Glo. He did bewray his Practice, and receiv'd This hurt you fee, ftriving to apprehend him. Corn. Is he purfued? Glo. Ay, my good Lord. Corn. If he be taken, he fhall never more Baft. I fhall ferve you, Sir, truly, how ever else. Corn. You know not why we came to vifit you ---- Gle. I ferve you, Madam, [Exeunt. Enter Kent, and Steward, feverally. Stew. Good dawning to thee, Friend, art of this Houfe? Stew. Where may we fet our Horses? Kent. I'th' Mire. Stew. Prithee if thou lov'ft me, tell me. Kent. I love thee not. Stew. Why then I care not for thee. Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for me. Stew. Why doft thou ufe me thus? I know thee not. Stew. What doft thou know me for ? Kent. A Knave, a Rafcal, an eater of broken Meats, a bafe, proud, fhallow, beggarly, three-fuited, hundred pound, filthy Woofted-ftocking Knave, a Lilly-livered, À&iontaking, whorfon Glafs-gazing, Super-ferviceable finical Rogue, one Trunk-inheriting Slave; one that wouldst be a Bawd in way of good Service, and art nothing but the compofition of a Knave, Beggar, Coward, Pander, and the Son and Heir of a Mungril Bitch; one whom I will beat into clamours whining, if thou deny'ft the leaft Syllable 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 knoweft me? Is it two Days fince I tript up thy Heels, and beat thee before the King? Draw you Rogue, for though it be Night, yet the Moon fhines; I'll make a Sop o'th' Moonshine of you, you whorfon Culleinly Barbermonger, draw. [Drawing his Sword. 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 fo carbonado your Shanks-draw, you Rafcal, come your ways. Stew. Help, ho! Murther! help! Kent. Strike you Slave; ftand, Rogue, ftand you neat Slave, ftrike. [Beating him. Stew. |