These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Than twenty silly ducking observants That stretch their duties nicely. Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, Under the allowance of your great aspect, Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering Phoebus' front, Corn. What mean'st by this? 100 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 't. Corn. What was the offence you gave him? Osw. I never gave him any: It pleased the king his master very late To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, Kent. But Ajax is their fool. Corn. ΙΙΟ None of these rogues and cowards Fetch forth the stocks! You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, Kent. 121 Corn. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour, There shall he sit till noon. 130 Reg. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too. Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, You should not use me so. Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks! [Stocks brought out. Glou. Let me beseech your grace not to do so: Corn. I'll answer that. Reg. 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. 140 [Kent is put in the stocks. [Exeunt all but Gloucester and Kent. Glou. 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. 150 Kent. Pray, do not, sir: I have watched 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! Glou. The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. [Exit. To the warm sun! Kent. Good king, that must approve the common saw, Thou out of heaven's benediction comest Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, That by thy comfortable beams I may 160 Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles Of my obscured course; and shall find time Losses their remedies. All weary and o'er-watch'd, This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night: smile once more; turn thy wheel! [Sleeps. SCENE III. A wood. 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, Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape, Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth, And with presented nakedness out-face ΙΟ Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom! 20 [Exit. SCENE IV. Before Gloucester's castle. Kent in the stocks. Enter LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman. Lear. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home, And not send back my messenger. Gent. As I learn'd, The night before there was no purpose in them Fool. Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs: when a man's over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks. ΙΟ Lear. What's he that hath so much thy place mistook To set thee here? They could not, would not do 't; 'tis worse than murder, To do upon respect such violent outrage: Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage, Kent. My lord, when at their home Which presently they read: on whose contents They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse; The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks: Whose welcome I perceived had poison'd mine— Display'd so saucily against your highness- He raised the house with loud and coward cries. 30 40 Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way. Fathers that wear rags Do make their children blind; But fathers that bear bags Shall see their children kind. 50 But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year. Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow, Thy element's below! Where is this daughter? Kent. With the earl, sir, here within. |