tread this unbolted1 villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him.-Spare my gray beard, you wagtail? Corn. Peace, sirrah! You beastly knave, know you no reverence? Kent. Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege. Corn. Why art thou angry? Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword, Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain, Which are too intrinse 2 t' unloose; smoothe every passion That in the natures of their lords rebels; I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot. Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow? Say that. How fell you out? Unrefined, unsifted. 2 Perplexed. 3 Deny. 4 The halcyon, or king-fisher, when dried, and hung up by a thread, was formerly supposed to turn his bill to the point whence the wind blew. Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy Than I and such a knave. Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence? Kent. His countenance likes me not. Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or hers. Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain : Than stands on any shoulder that I see Corn. This is some fellow, Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb, Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he !— An honest mind and plain,—he must speak truth: An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain ness Harbor more craft, and more corrupter ends, Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, Corn. What mean'st by this? Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to it. Corn. What was the offence you gave him? I never gave him any. Stew. It pleased the king his master, very late, To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; Kent. None of these rogues and cowards, But Ajax is their fool.1 Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho! You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, We'll teach you Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn: Corn. Fetch forth the stocks: As I've life and honor, there shall he sit till noon. Re. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too. 1 i. e. Ajax is a fool to them. Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, You should not use me so. Re. Sir, being his knave, I will. [stocks brought out. Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same color Our sister speaks of.-Come, bring away the stocks. Glos. Let me beseech your grace not to do so : His fault is much, and the good king his master Will check him for 't: your purposed low correction Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches, For pilferings and most common trespasses, Are punish'd with. The king must take it ill, That he's so slightly valued in his messenger, Should have him thus restrain'd. Corn. I'll answer that. Re. My sister may receive it much more worse, To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, For following her affairs.-Put in his legs. Come, my good lord; away. [Kent is put in the stocks. [Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. Glos. I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure, Whose disposition, all the world well knows, Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd. I'll entreat for thee. Kent. Pray, do not, sir: I have watch'd and travell'd hard; Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle : A good man's fortune may grow out at heels. Give you good morrow! Glos. The duke's to blame in this: 'twill be ill taken. [Exit. Kent. Good king, that must approve the common saw! Thou out of heaven's benediction comest To the warm sun! Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles, This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night; smile once more; turn thy wheel! [he sleeps. SCENE III. A part of the heath. Enter EDGAR. Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd; And, by the happy hollow of a tree, Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place, |