fuper-ferviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting flave; one that would't be a bawd in way of good fervice; and art nothing but the compofition of a. knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the fon and heir of a mungrii bitch; one whom I will beat into clam'rous whining, if thou deny'ft the least syllable of thy addition.

Stew. Why, what a monftrous fellow art thou, thusto 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 whorfon, cullionly, barber-monger, draw. [Drawing his word. Stew. Away. I have nothing to do with thee. Kent. Draw, you rafcal; you come with letters against the King; and take Vanity, the Puppet's part, againft the royalty of her father; draw, you rogue, or I'll fo carbonado your fhanks draw, you rafcal, come

your ways.

Stew, Help, ho! murther! help!

Kent. Strike, you flave; ftand, rogue, ftand, you

neat flave, ftrike.

Stew. Help ho! murther! murther!

[Beating hims

Enter Edmund, Gornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and
Servants:

Edm. How now, what's the matter? Part

Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you pleafe; come,Ell flesh ye; come on, young master.

Glo. Weapons? arms? what's the matter here? Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; he dies, thať ftrikes again; what's the matter?

Reg. The meffengers from our fifter and the King?
Corn. What is your difference? fpeak.

Stew. I am fcarce in breath, my lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have fo beftir'd your valour; you cowardly rafcal! nature disclaims all mare in thee: a tailor made thee.

Corn.

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow; a tailor make a man? Kent. I, a tailor, Sir; a stone-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

Kent. Thou whorfon zed! thou unneceffary letter! my lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard? you wagtail! Corn. Peace, Sirrah!

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

Kent. That fuch a slave as this fhou'd wear a fword,
Who wears no honefty: fuch fmiling rogues as thefe,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain (8)
Too 'intrinficate t'unloofe: footh every paffion,
That in the nature of their lords rebels:

(8) Like rats, oft bite the holy Cords atwaine,

Which are t'intrince, t' unloofe ;] Thus the firft Editors blun der'd this Paffage into unintelligible Nonsense. Mr. Pope so far has difengag'd them, as to give us plain Sense; but by throw ing out the Epithet boly, 'tis evident, he was not aware of the Poet's fine Meaning. I'll first 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

It means, inward, hidden; perplext; as a Knot, hard to be unravell'd; it is deriv`d from the Latin adverb intrinfecùs ; from. which the Italians have coin'd a very beautiful Phrase, intrinficarfi col uno, i. e. to grow intimate with, to wind one self into another. And now to our Author's Senfe. Kent is rating the Steward, as a Parafite of Gonerill's; and fupposes very just ly, 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 obferved to me, files the Union, between. Parer.ts and Children the boly Cords.

two

ave

Bring oil to fire, fnow to their colder moods;
oald Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With ev'ry Gale and Vary of their masters;
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.
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 feen better faces in my time,

Than ftand on any fhoulder that I fee
Before me at this inftant.

Corn. This is fome fellow,

Who having been prais'd for bluntnefs, doth affect
A fawcy roughness; and conftrains the garb,
Quite from his nature. He can't flatter, he,
An honeft mind and plain, he must speak truth;
An they will take it, fo; if not, he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainnefs
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,

Whofe influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phoebus' front

Corn. What mean'ft by this ?

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend fo much I know, Sir, I am no flatterer; he, that beguild you in a plain accent, was a plain knave; which for my part I will not be, though I should win your displeafure to intreat me to't.

Corn.

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 strike at me upon his misconstruction :
When he conjunct, and flatt'ring his difpleafure,
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,
For him attempting who was felf-fubdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.

Kent. None of thefe rogues

But Ajax is their fool.

and cowards,

Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks.

You ftubborn ancient knave, you rev'rend braggart,、 We'll teach you

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn :

Call not your Stocks for me, I ferve the King;
On whofe imployment I was fent to you.

You fhall do small refpect, fhew too bold malice
Against the grace and períon of my mafter,
Stocking his meffenger.

Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;

As I have life and honour, there fhall he fit till noon. Reg. 'Till noon! till night, my lord, and all night too. Kent. Why, Madam, if I were your father's dog, You could not ufe me fo..

Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. [Stocks brought out. Corn. This is a fellow of the felf fame nature Our fifter fpeaks of. Come, bring away the Stocks. Glo. Let me befeech your Grace not to do fo; His fault is much, and the good King his mafter Will check him for't; your purpos'd low correction Is fuch, as bafeft and the meaneft wretches For pilf'rings, and moft common trefpaffes, Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill, That he, fo flightly valued in his meffenger,. Should have him thus reftrain'd.

Corn. I'll answer that.

Reg. My Sifter may receive it much more worse,

Το

To have her Gentleman abus'd, affaulted,

For following her affairs.

Come, my lord, away.

Put in his legs

[Kent is put in the Stocks. [Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. Glo I'm forry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's pleafure, Whofe difpofition, all the world well knows,

Will not be rubb'd nor ftop'd. I'll intreat for thee.
Kent. Pray, do not, Sir. I've watch'd and travell'd
hard;

Some time I Thall fleep out, the reft I'll whistle:
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels;
Give you good morrow.

Glo. 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'ft

To the warm fun!

Approach, thou beacon to this under-globe,

[Looking up to the moon. That by thy comfortable beams I may

Perufe this letter. Nothing almoft fees miracles,
But mifery. I know, 'tis from Gordelia ;
Who hath moft fortunately been inform'd
Of my obfcured courfe. I fhall find time
From this enormous ftate, and feek to give
Loffes their remedies. All weary and o'er-watch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold

This fhameful lodging.

Fortune, good night; fmile once more, turn thy wheel.

[He fleeps

SCENE changes to a part of a Heath.

Enter Edgar.

Edg. And, by the happy hollow of a tree,

'VE heard my self proclaim'd;

Efcap'd the hunt. No port is free, no place,
That Guard and most unusual vigilance

Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'fcape,