Act II, Scene ii:
Before Gloster's Castle.

[Enter Kent and Oswald, severally.]

Osw.:

Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house?

Kent.:

Ay.

Osw.:

Where may we set our horses?

Kent.:

I' the mire.

Osw.:

Pr'ythee, if thou lov'st me, tell me.

Kent.:

I love thee not.

Osw.:

Why then, I care not for thee.

Kent.:

If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

Osw.:

Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

Kent.:

Fellow, I know thee.

Osw.:

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, whoreson,

glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue;

one-trunk-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

denyest the least syllable of thy addition.

Osw.:

Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one that's

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 beat thee and tripped up thy heels before

the king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon

shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you: draw, you

whoreson cullionly barbermonger, draw!

[Drawing his sword.]

Osw.:

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!

Osw.:

Help, ho! murder! help!

Kent.:

Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat slave, strike!

[Beating him.]

Osw.:

Help, ho! murder! murder!

[Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.]

Edm.:

How now! What's the matter?

Kent.:

With you, goodman boy, an you please: come, I'll flesh you; come

on, young master.

Glou.:

Weapons! arms! What's the matter here?

Corn.:

Keep peace, upon your lives;

He dies that strikes again. What is the matter?

Reg.:

The messengers from our sister and the king.

Corn.:

What is your difference? speak.

Osw.:

I am scarce in breath, my lord.

Kent.:

No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valour. 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 stonecutter or a painter could not have

made him so ill, though he had been but two hours at the trade.

Corn.:

Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

Osw.:

This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared at suit of

his grey

beard,—

Kent.:

Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!—My lord, if you'll

give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar and

daub the walls of a jakes with him.—Spare my grey beard, you

wagtail?

Corn.:

Peace, sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

Kent.:

Yes, sir; but anger hath 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 a-twain

Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion

That in the natures of their lords rebel;

Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;

Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks

With every gale and vary of their masters,

Knowing naught, like dogs, but following.—

A plague upon your epileptic visage!

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,—

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.

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.

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.]