All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape;
The duke must grant me that: besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him; and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means
To make thee capable.1

Enter CORNWALL, Regan, and Attendants.

Corn. How now, my noble friend? since I came hither,

(Which I can call but now) I have heard strange

news.

Re. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short, Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my

lord?

Glos. O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, is

crack'd!

Re. What, did my father's godson seek your life? He whom my father named? your Edgar?

Glos. O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!

Re. Was he not companion with the riotous knights

That tend upon my father?

Glos.

It is too bad, too bad.

Edm.

I know not, madam :

Yes, madam, he was.

Re. No marvel then, though he were ill affected: 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,

1 i. e. capable of succeeding to my estate.

To have the waste and spoil of his revenues.

I have this present evening from my sister

Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions, That, if they come to sojourn at my house,

Glos. He did bewray his practice; 1 and received This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

Corn. Is he pursued ?

Glos.

Ay, my good lord, he is.

Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more

Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please.-For you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours;
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need:
You we first seise on.

Edm.

Truly, however else.

Glos.

I shall serve you, sir,

For him I thank your grace.

Corn. You know not why we came to visit

you,

Re. Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed

night.

Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poize,2

1 He discovered his wicked design.

2 Weight, moment.

Wherein we must have use of your advice.
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of differences, which I best thought it fit

To answer from our home: the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow

Your needful counsel to our business,

Which craves the instant use.

Glos.

I serve you, madam :

[Exeunt.

Your graces are right welcome.

SCENE II.

Before Gloster's castle.

Enter KENT and STEWARD, severally.

Stew. Good dawning to thee, friend! art of the house?

Kent. Ay.

Stew. Where may we set our horses?

Kent. I' the mire.

Stew. Pr'ythee, if thou love 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 dost thou use me thus? I know thee

not.

Kent. Fellow, I know thee.

Stew. What dost thou know me for?

Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken

meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave; a whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; onetrunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.1

Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee!

Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou to deny thou knowest me! Is it two days ago, since I tripped up thy heels and beat thee before the king? Draw, you rogue; for, though it be night, the moon shines: I'll make a sop o'the moonshine of you. Draw, you whoreson cullionly 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 so carbonado your shanks :-draw, you rascal; come your ways.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help.

1 Titles.

2 A character in the old moralities.

Kent. Strike, you slave! stand, rogue, stand!

you neat slave, strike!

Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder!

[beating him.

Enter EDMUND, CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and Servants.

Edm. How now? What 's the matter? Part. Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; come, I'll flesh you: come on, young master. Glos. Weapons! arms! What's the matter

here?

Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives;

He dies, that strikes again. What is the matter? Re. The messengers from our sister and the king. Corn. What is your difference? speak.

Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred your valor. You cowardly rascal, Nature disclaims in

thee; a tailor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man?

Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two hours at the trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared,

At suit of his gray beard,

Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!-My lord, if you will give me leave, I will