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Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, an I had you upon Sarum plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.
Corn.
What, art thou mad, old fellow?
Glou.
How fell you out?
Say that.
Kent.
No contraries hold more antipathy
Than I and such a knave.
Corn.
Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault?
Kent.
His countenance likes me not.
Corn.
No more perchance does mine, or his, or hers.
Kent.
Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain:
I have seen better faces in my time
Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.
Corn.
This is some fellow
Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb
Quite from his nature: he cannot flatter, he,--
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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 plainness
Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends
Than twenty silly-ducking observants
That stretch their duties nicely.
Kent.
Sir, in good faith, 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?
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 pleas'd the king his master very late
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthied him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.
Kent.
None of these rogues and cowards
But Ajax is their fool.
Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks!--
You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart,
We'll teach you,--
Kent.
Sir, I am too old to learn:
Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king;
On whose employment I was sent to you:
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.
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Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks!--As I have life and honour,
there shall he sit till noon.
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:
His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for't: your purpos'd 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, so slightly valu'd in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.
Corn.
I'll answer that.
Reg.
My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs.--Put in his legs.--
[Kent is put in the stocks.]
Come, my good lord, away.
[Exeunt all but Gloster 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.
Kent.
Pray do not, sir: I have watch'd, and travell'd hard;
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
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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.]
Kent.
Good king, that must approve the common saw,--
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter.--Nothing almost sees miracles
But misery:--I know 'tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course; and shall find time
From this enormous state,--seeking to give
Losses their remedies,--All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night: smile once more, turn thy wheel!
[He sleeps.]
Scene III. The open Country.
[Enter Edgar.]
Edg.
I heard myself proclaim'd;
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place
That guard and most unusual vigilance
Does not attend my taking. While I may scape,
I will preserve myself: and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots;
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity.--Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!
That's something yet:--Edgar I nothing am.
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[Exit.]
Scene IV. Before Gloster'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
Of this remove.
Kent.
Hail to thee, noble master!
Lear.
Ha!
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
Kent.
No, my lord.
Fool.
Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the
head; dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs: when a man is over-lusty at
legs, then he
wears wooden nether-stocks.
Lear.
What's he that hath so much thy place mistook
To set thee here?
Kent.
It is both he and she,
Your son and daughter.
Lear.
No.
Kent.
Yes.
Lear.
No, I say.
Kent.
I say, yea.
Lear.
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No, no; they would not.
Kent.
Yes, they have.
Lear.
By Jupiter, I swear no.
Kent.
By Juno, I swear ay.
Lear.
They durst not do't.
They would not, could not do't; 'tis worse than murder,
To do upon respect such violent outrage:
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage,
Coming from us.
Kent. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]