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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 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 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 whorefon, cullionly barber-monger, draw.

[Drawing bis fword. 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 shanks-Draw, you rafcal. Come your ways.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help!

Kent. Strike, you flave. Stand, rogue, ftand, you neat flave, ftrike.

Stew. Help ho! murder! murder!

6 I'll make a fop o' th' moonfeine of you;] This is equivalen: to our modern phrafe of making the fun shine thro' any one. But, alluding to the natural philofophy of that time, it is obfcure. The Peripatetics thought, tho' falfly, that the rays of the moon were cold and moift. The speaker therefore fays, he would make a fop of his antagonist, which fhould abforb the humidity of the moon's rays, by letting them into his guts. For this reafon, Shakespeare in Ro

E 3

[Beating him.

meo and Juliet fays,

-the moonbine's watry beams. And in Midfummer-Night's dream, Quench'd in the chaft beams of the watry moon.

WARBURTON.

barber-monger,] Of this word I do not clearly fee the force.

7 Vanity the puppet] Alluding to the mysteries or allegorical fhews, in which Vanity, Iniquity, and other vices, were perfonified.

+ neat flave,] You mere flave, you very flave.

SCENE

[blocks in formation]

Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and Servants.

Edm. How now, what's the matter? PartKent. 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 fifter and the King. Corn. What is your difference? Speak.

Stew. I am scarce in breath, my Lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have fo beftirr'd your valour; you cowardly rafcal. Nature disclaims all share in thee. A tailor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a ftrange fellow. A tailor make a man?

Kent. Ay, a tailor, Sir; aftone-cutter, or a painter could not have made him fo ill, tho' they had been but two hours o'th' trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

Stew. This ancient ruffian, Sir, whofe life I have fpar'd at fuit of his grey beard

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Kent. Thou whorefon zed! thou unneceffary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread

Thou whorefon Zed! theu unnereary letter!] I do not well underland how a man is reproached by being called Zed, nor how Z is an unneceffary let

ter.

Scarron compares his deformity to the fhape of Z, and it may be a proper word of infult to a crook-backed man; but why fhould Gonerill's fteward be crooked, unless the allufion

be to his bending or cringing pofture in the prefence of his fuperiours? Perhaps it was written, thu horefon C [for cuckold] thou unneceffary letter. C is a letter unneceflary in our alphabet, one of its two founds being reprefented by S, and one by K. But all the copies concur in the common reading.

this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard? you wagtail!

Corn. Peace, Sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent. Yes, Sir, but anger hath a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry?

Kent. That fuch a flave as this fhould wear a sword,
Who wears no honefly. Such fmiling rogues as these,
'Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain
Too 'intrinficate t'unloofe; footh every paffion,

9 this unbolted villain] i. e. unrefined by education, the bran yet in him. Metaphor from the bakehouse. WARBURTON. 'Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwaine, Which are t'intrince, t'unlofe;] Thus the firft Editors blundered this Paffage into unintelligible Nonfenfe. Mr. Pope fo far has difengaged it, as to give us plain Senfe; but by throwing out the Epithet hoy, 'tis evident, that he was not aware of the Poet's fine Meaning. I'll frit establish and prove the Reading; then explain the Allufion. Thus the Poet gave it:

Like rats, oft bite the holy

Cords in twain, Too intrinficate 'unloofe This Word again occurs in our Authour's Antony and Cleopatra, where fhe is fpeaking to the Afpick:

Come, mortal wretch;
With thy fharp Teeth this knot
intrinficate

Of Life at once untie.
And we meet with it in Cynthia's
Revels by Ben. Johnson.

E

That

Yet there are certain punctilios, or, as I may more nakedly infinuate th, certain intrinficate Strokes and Words, to which your Activity is not yet amounted, &c.

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It means, inward, hidden, perplext; as a Knot, hard to be unravell'd; it is deriv'd from the Latin adverb intrinfecus; from which the Italians have coin'd a very beautiful Phrafe, intrinf carfi col une, i. e. to grow intimate with, to wind one felf into another. And now to our Author's Senfe. Kent is rating the Steward, as a Parafite of Gonerill's; and fuppofes very justly, that he has fomented the Quarrel betwixt that Princess and her Father: in which office he compares him to a facrilegious Rat and by a fine Metaphor, as Mr. Warburton obferv'd to me, ftiles the Union between Parents and Children the boly Cords.

THEOBALD. Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in train

Too intrinficate t'unloofe:-] By thefe holy cords the Poet means the natural union between pa

rents

That in the nature of their Lords rebels,
Bring oil to fire, fnow to their colder moods,
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With ev'ry Gale and Vary of their mafters,
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following.
A plague upon your epileptick vifage!
Smile you my fpeeches, as I were a fool?
Goofe, if I had you upon Sarum-plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.
Corn. What art thou mad, old fellow!
Glo. How fell you out? Say that.

2

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, Than I and fuch a knave.

Corn. Why doft thou call him knave? What is his fault?

Kent. His countenance likes me not.

Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers.

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;

I have seen better faces in my time,

Than fland on any shoulder that I fee
Before me at this inftant.

Corn. This is fome fellow,

Who having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A fawcy roughness; and
Quite from his nature.
An honest mind and plain,

conftrains the garb,
He can't flatter, he!
he muft fpeak truth;

rents and children. The metaphor is taken from the cords of the fanctuary; and the fomenters of family differences are compared to thefe facrilegious rats. The expreffion is fine and noble. WARBURTON. 2 epileptick vifage!] The frighted countenance of a man ready to fall in a fit.

3

Camelot] Was the place where the romances fay, King Arthur kept his court in the weft;

fo this alludes to fome proverbial fpeech in those romances. WARB.

In Somerftf.re near Camelot are many large moors where are bred great quantities of geefe, fo that many other places are from hence fupplied with quills and feathers. HANMER.

4 conftrains the garb Quite from his nature. re.] Forces his outfide or his appearance to fomething totally different from his naturai difpofition.

An

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An they will take it, fo; if not, he's plain.
Thefe kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,

'Than twenty filly ducking obfervants,

That ftretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good faith, in fincere verity, Under th' allowance of your grand afpect, Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering Pabus' front

Corn. What mean'st by this?

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend fo 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 intreat me to't.

Corn. What was th' offence you gave him?
Stew. I never gave him any.

It pleas'd the King his mafter very lately
To ftrike at me upon his misconstruction,
When he conjunct, and flatt'ring his displeasure,
Tript me behind; being down, infulted, rail'd,
And put upon him fuch a deal of man, that
That worthied him; got praifes of the King,

5 Than twenty SILLY ducking
obfervants. The epithet
SILLY cannot be right. 1ft, Be
caule Cornwall, is this beautiful
fpeech, is not talking of the dif
ferent fuccefs of these two kind
of parafites, but of their diffe-
rent corruption of heart.
2. Be.

caufe he fays thefe ducking ob-
fervants know how to ftretch their
deties nicely. I am perfuaded
we should read,

Than twenty SILKY ducking ob-
Jervants,

Which not only alludes to the
garb of a court fycophant, but
admirably well denotes the
fmoothness of his character. But

what is more, the poet generally gives them this epithet in other places. So in Richard III. he calls them

-Silky, fy, infinuating

Jacks.
And in Coriolanus,

when feel grows
Soft as the pa. afite's filk,

WARBURTON, The alteration is more ingenious than the arguments by which it is furported.

*though I should win your dif plea fure to int eat me to't.] 1 hough I fhould win you, difpleased as you now are, to like me fo well as to intreat me to be a knave.

For

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