Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

fuper - serviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk- inheriting flave; one that would'st be a bawd in way of good service; and art nothing but the compofition 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 'ft the least fyllable 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 fop 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! murther! help!

Kent. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand, you neat slave, ftrike.

[Beating him. Stew. Help ho! murther! murther ! Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'ster, and

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

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

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

Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; he dies, that strikes again ; what's the matter? Reg. The messengers from our fifter and the King ? Corn. What is your difference: speak. Stew. 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 tailor made thee.

Corn.

my lord, if

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 so 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 Kont. Thou whorson zed! thou unnecessary letter!

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 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 shou'd wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty : such smiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain (8)
Too 'intrinsicate t’unloose : footh every passion,
That in the nature of their lords rebels :

(8) Like rats, oft bite the holy Cords atwaine, Which are t'intrince, t' unloose ; ] Thus the first Editors blunder'd ihis 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 in i wain,

Too 'intrinsicate t’unlooseIt means, inward, hidden; perplext; as a Knot, hard to be unravelld; it is deriv'd from the Latin adverb intrinfecùs; from which the Italians have coin'd a very beautiful Phrase, intrin. ficarsi col uno, i. e. to grow intimate with, to wind one self into another. And now to our Author's Sense. Kent is rating the Steward, as a Parasite of Gonerill's; and supposes very justly, that he has fomented the Quarrel berwise that Princess and her Father: in which Office, he compares him to a sacrilegious Rat: and by a fine Metaphor, as Mr. Warburton observed to nie; files the Union between Parents and Children the holy Cords,

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.

Corn. What art thou mad, old fellow!
Gl. 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 stand 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 fawcy roughness; and constrains the garb,
Quite from his nature. He can't fatter, he,
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 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 displeasure to intreat me to’t.

Corn.

Corn. What was th' offence you gave him?
Stew. I never gave

him

any :
It pleas'd the King his master very lately
To strike at me 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 imployment I was sent to you.
You shall do small respect, shew 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 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 use me so.

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

Corn. This is a fellow of the self-fame nature
Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the Stocks.

Glo. 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 baseft and the meanest wretches
For pilf'rings, and moft common trespasses,
Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill,
That he, fo slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus reftrain'd.

Corn. l'll answer that.
Reg. My Sister may receive it much more worse,

Το

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

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. 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 Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles, But misery. I know, 'tis from Cordelia ; Who hath most fortunately been informid Of my

obscured course. I shall find time From this enormous state, and seek to give Losses their remedies. All weary and o'er-watch'd, Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel.

[He seeps.

SCENE changes to a part of a Heath.

Enter Edgar.
Edg. T'VE heard my self 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. Whiles I may 'scape,

I'X

« ZurückWeiter »