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Kent. A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats, a base, proud, ihallow, beggarly, three-fuited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lilly-liver’d, action-taking knave; a whorson, glafs-gazing, superserviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting flave; one that would't 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 mungril bitch; one whom I will beat into clam'rous whining, if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition.

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-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou know'ft me ? is it two days ago, since I tript up thy heels, and beat thee before the king ? Draw, you rogue ; for tho' it be night, yet the moon shines ; I'll make a sop o' th’ moonshine of you ; you whorson, 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 fo carbonado your thanks-draw, you rascal, come: your ways.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help !:

Kent. Strike, you slaye;. ftand, rogue, stand, you neat Nave, strike.

[Beating him. Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder ! Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and Servants.

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

Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; come, I'll flesh ye; come on,, young master.

Glo. Weapons ? arms? what's the matter here?

Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives ;; he dies, that Arikes again ; what's the matter?

Reg. The meslengers from our sister and the King ?
Corn. What is your difference ? speak,

Stewa

Stery. I am scarce in breath, my lord.
Kent. No marvel, you have so beftir'd

your valour

; you cowardly rascal! nature disclaims all share in thee: a taylor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow; a taylor make a man?

Kent. I, a taylor, 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, whose life I have spar'd at suit of his

grey

beard Kent. Thou whorson zed ! thou unnecessary 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 beally knave, know you no reverence ?

Kent. Yes, Sir, but anger bath a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry?

Kent. That such a flave as this should wear a sword, Who wears no honesty: such siniling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain (15)

Too (15) Li'e rats, oft bite the holy cords atwaine, *Which are e' intrince, t’unlosse; ] Thus the first editors blunder'd this passage into unintelligible nonsense. Mr. Pope so far has disengag’d them, as to give us plain sense; but by throwing out the epithet boly, 'tis evident he was not aware of the poet's fine meaning. I'll first eftablish and prove the reading; then explain the allusion. Thus the poet gave it;

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords twain,

Too'intrinĞcate t' unloofeThis word again occurs in our author's Antony and Cleopatra, where ihe is speaking to the aspick;

Come, mortal wretch;
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinficate

Of life at once untie.
And we meet with it in Cynthia's Revels by Ben. Johnsonn.

Yet there are certain puntilio's, or (as I may more nakedly inns puate them) certain intrinsicate strokes and wards, to which your activity is not yet amounted ; &c. It means, inward, hidden; perplext; as a knot, hard to be unravel!!d; it is derived from the Latin adverb intrinsicus ; from which

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Too 'intrinsicate t' unloofe : footh every passion,
That in the nature of their lords rebels :
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods ;
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 visage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool ?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot. (16)

Corn. What art thou mad, old fellow?
Glo. 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, nor his, nor hers.

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;
I have seen 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 bluntness, doth affect
A faucy roughness; and constrains the garla,
Quite from his nature. He can't flatter, he,-
the Italians have coin'd a very beautiful phrase, intrinsicarsi col uno,
i. e. to grow intimate with, to wind one felf into another. And now
to our author's fenfe. Kent is rating the steward, as a parasite of
Gonerill's; and supposes very justly, that he has fomented the quarrel
betwixt that princess and her father : in which office, he compares
him to a sacrilegious rat: and by a fine metaphor, as Mr. Warburton
obferved to me, ftiles the union between parents and children the
boly cords.

(16) cackling bome to Camelot.) As Sarum, or Salisbury, plain is mention'd in the preceding verse, I presume this Camelot. to be that mention d by Holing shead, and called Camaletun, in the marshes of Somersetshire, where there was an old tradition of a very strong, Caf tle. Langbam, in his account of Queen Elizabeth's reception at Kenil. worth, says, from King Artbur's acts, that that Prince kept his royal court at Camelot : but whether this be the place already mentioned, or fime other of that name in Wales, or the Camelot in Sterling-County in Scotland, I am not able to say.

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An honest 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 plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Than twenty filly ducking observants,
That stretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good faith, in fincere verity,
Under th' allowance of your grand aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phæbus' 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 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. What was th' offence you gave him ?

Stew. I never gave him any :
It pleas'd the King his master very lately
To trike at sme upon his misconstruction ;
When he conjunct, and flatt'ring his displeasure,
Tript me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man, that
That worthied him; got praises of the King,
For him attempting who was self-fubdu'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 rev'rend 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, thew 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 thall he fit till noon.

Reg.

Reg. 'Till noon ! 'till night, my lord, and all night too.

Kent. Why, Madam, if I were your father's dog, You could not use me so.

Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. [Stocks brought out

Corn. This is a fellow of the self- same nature
Our fifter speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks.

Glo. Let me beseech your Grace not to do fo;
His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him fort; your purpos'd low correction
Is such, as basest and the meaneił wretches
For. pilPrings, and most common trespasses,
Are punilh'd with. The King must take it ill,
That he, so flightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus reftrain'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 lord, away. [Exeunt Regan and Cornwall.

Glo. I'm sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's pleasure, Whose disposition, all the world well knows, Will not be rubb'd nor stop’d. I'll intreat for thee.

Kent. Pray, do not, Sir. I've watch'd and travellid Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle : [hard; A good man's fortune may grow out at heels ; Give you good morrow. Gle. 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 sun ! Approach, thou beacon to this under-globe,

[Looking up to the moon. That by thy comfortable beams I may Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles, But misery. I know, 'cis from Cordelia; Who hath most fortunately been inform'd Of my obscured course. I shall find time From this enormous state, and seek to give

Loffes

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