The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



Text and Image

Here you can read a digital edition of each play in various views.

Page Image & Text
Digital Text
XML

Reference: rr1r - Tragedies, p. 293

Left Column


The Tragedie of King Lear. Giue you good morrow. Glo. The Duke's too blame in this, 'Twill be ill taken. Exit. Kent. Good King, that must approue the common saw,
[1195]
Thou out of Heauens benediction com'st To the warme Sun. Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe, That by thy comfortable Beames I may Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
[1200]
But miserie. I know 'tis from Cordelia, Who hath most fortunately beene inform'd Of my obscured course. And shall finde time From this enormous State, seeking to giue Losses their remedies. All weary and o're‐watch'd,
[1205]
Take vantage heauie eyes, not to behold This shamefull lodging. Fortune goodnight, Smile once more, turne thy wheele.
[Act 2, Scene 3] Enter Edgar. Edg. I heard my selfe proclaim'd, And by the happy hollow of a Tree,
[1210]
Escap'd the hunt. No Port is free, no place That guard, and most vnusall vigilance Do's not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape I will preserue myselfe: and am bethought To take the basest, and most poorest shape
[1215]
That euer penury in contempt of man, Brought neere to beast; my face Ile grime with filth, Blanket my loines, else all my haires in knots, And with presented nakednesse out‐face The Windes, and persecutions of the skie;
[1220]
The Country giues me proofe, and president Of Bedlam beggers, who with roaring voices, Strike in their num'd and mortified Armes. Pins, Wodden‐prickes, Nayles, Sprigs of Rosemarie: And with this horrible obiect, from low Farmes,
[1225]
Poore pelting Villages, Sheeps‐Coates, and Milles, Sometimes with Lunaticke bans, sometime with Praiers Inforce their charitie: poore Turlygod poore Tom, That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am.
Exit.
[Act 2, Scene 4] Enter Lear, Foole, and Gentleman. Lea. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
[1230]
And not send backe my Messengers.
Gent. As I learn'd, The night before, there was no purpose in them Of this remoue. Kent.

Haile to thee Noble Master.

Lear.
[1235]

Ha? Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?

Kent.

No my Lord.

Foole.

Hah, ha, he weares Cruell Garters Horses are

tide by the heads, Dogges and Beares by'th' necke,

Monkies by'th' loynes, and Men by'th' legs: when a man

[1240]

ouerlustie at legs, then he weares wodden nether‐stocks.

Lear. What's he, That hath so much thy place mistooke To set thee heere? Kent. It is both he and she,
[1245]
Your Son, and Daughter.
Lear.

No.

Kent.

Yes.

Lear.

No I say

Kent.

I say yea.

Lear.
[1250]

By Iupiter I sweare no.

Image


[full image]

Right Column


Kent.

By Iuno, I sweare I.

Lear. They durst not do't: They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse then murther, To do vpon respect such violent outrage:
[1255]
Resolue me with all modest haste, which way Thou might'st deserue, or they impose this vsage, Comming from vs.
Kent. My Lord, when at their home I did commend your Highnesse Letters to them,
[1260]
Ere I was risen from the place, that shewed My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Poste, Stew'd in his haste, halfe breathlesse, painting forth From Gonerill his Mistris, salutations; Deliuer'd Letters spight of intermission,
[1265]
Which presently they read; on those contents They summon'd vp their meiney, straight tooke Horse, Commanded me to follow, and attend The leisure of their answer, gaue me cold lookes, And meeting heere the other Messenger,
[1270]
Whose welcome I perceiu'd had poison'd mine, Being the very fellow which of late Displaid so sawcily against your Highnesse, Hauing more man then wit about me, drew; He rais'd the house, with loud and coward cries,
[1275]
Your Sonne and Daughter found this trespasse worth The shame which heere it suffers.
Foole. Winters not gon yet, if the wil'd Geese fly that way, Fathers that weare rags, do make their Children blind, But Fathers that beare bags, shall see their children kind. Fortune that arrant whore, nere turns the key toth' poore.
[1280]
But for all this thou shalt haue as many Dolors for thy Daughters, as thou canst tell in a yeare.
Lear. Oh how this Mother swels vp toward my heart! Historica passio, downe thou climing sorrow, Thy Elements below where is this Daughter? Kent.
[1285]

With the Earle Sir, here within.

Lear.

Follow me not, stay here.

Exit. Gen. Made you no more offence, But what you speake of? Kent.

None:

[1290]

How chance the King comes with so small a number?

Foole.

And thou ha st beene set i'th' Stockes for that

question, thoud'st well deseru'd it.

Kent.

Why Foole?

Foole.

Wee'l set thee to schoole to an Ant, to teach

[1295]

thee ther's no labouring i'th' winter. All that follow their

noses, are led by their eyes, but blinde men, and there's

not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stink­ing;

let go thy hold when a great wheele runs downe a

hill, least it breake thy necke with following. But the

[1300]

great one that goes vpward, let him draw thee after:

when a w seman giues thee better counsell giue me mine

againe, I would haue none but knaues follow it, since a

Foole giues it.

That Sir, which serues and seekes for gaine,
[1305]
And followes but for forme; Will packe, when it begins to raine, And leaue thee in the storme, But I will tarry, the Foole will stay, And let the wiseman flie:
[1310]
The knaue turnes Foole that runnes away, The Foole no knaue perdie.
Enter Lear, and Gloster: Kent.

Where learn'd you this Foole?

Foole.

Not i'th' Stocks Foole.

rr Lear.

Download the digital text and images of the play



 
Scena Secunda. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Kent, and Steward seuerally. Stew.

Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?

Kent.
[1035]

I.

Stew.

Where may we set our horses?

Kent.

I'th' myre.

Stew.

Prythee, if thou lou'st me, tell me.

Kent.

I loue thee not.

Ste.
[1040]

Why then I care not for thee.

Kent.

If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make

thee care for me.

Ste.

Why do'st thou vse me thus? I know thee not.

Kent.

Fellow I know thee.

Ste.
[1045]

Wha do'st thou know me for?

Kent.

A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a

base, proud, shallow, beggerly, three‐suited‐hundred

pound, filthy woosted‐stocking knaue, a Lilly‐liuered,

action‐taking, whoreson glasse‐gazing super‐seruiceable

[1050]

finicall Rogue, one Trunke‐inheriting slaue, one that

would'st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art no­thing

but the composition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward,

Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch,

one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou

[1055]

deny'st the least sillable of thy addition.

Stew.

Why, what a monstrous Fellow art thou, thus

to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor

knowes thee?

Kent.

What a brazen‐fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny

[1060]

thou knowest me? Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy

heeles, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,

for though it be night, yet the Moone shines, Ile make a

sop oth' Moonshine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly

Barber‐monger, draw.

Stew.
[1065]

Away, I haue nothing to do with thee.

Kent.

Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters a­gainst

the King, and take Vanitie the puppets part, a­gainst

the Royaltie of her Father: draw you Rogue, or

Ile so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascall, come

[1070]

your waies.

Ste.

Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.

Kent.

Strike you slaue: stand rogue, stand you neat

slaue, strike.

Stew.

Helpe hoa, murther, murther.

Enter Bastard, Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants. Bast.
[1075]

How now, what's the matter? Part.

Kent. With you goodman Boy, if you please, come, Ile flesh ye, come on yong Master. Glo.

Weapons? Armes? What's the matter here?

Cor.

Keepe peace vpon your liues, he dies that strikes

[1080]

againe, what is the matter?

Reg.

The Messengers from our Sister, and the King?

Cor.

What is your difference, speake?

Stew.

I am scarce in breath my Lord.

Kent.

No Maruell, you haue so bestir'd your valour,

[1085]

you cowardly Rascall, nature disclaimes in thee: a Taylor

made thee.

Cor.

Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man?

Kent.

A Taylor Sir, a Stone‐cutter, or a Painter, could

not haue made him so ill, though they had bin but two

[1090]

yeares oth'trade.

Cor.

Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?

Ste.

This ancient Ruffian Sir, whose life I haue spar'd

at sute of his gray‐beard.

Kent.

Thou whoreson Zed, thou vnnecessary letter:

[1095]

my Lord, if you will giue me leaue, I will tread this vn­boulted

villaine into morter, and daube the wall of a

Iakes with him. Spare my gray‐beard, you wagtaile?

Cor. Peace sirrah, You beastly knaue, know you no reuerence? Kent.
[1100]

Yes Sir, but anger hath a priuiledge.

Cor.

Why art thou angrie?

Kent. That such a slaue as this should weare a Sword, Who weares no honesty: such smiling rogues as these, Like Rats oft bite the holy cords a twaine,
[1105]
Which are t'intrince, t'vnloose: smooth euery passion That in the natures of their Lords rebell, Being oile to fire, snow to the colder moodes, Reuenge, affirme, and turne their Halcion beakes With euery gall, and varry of their Masters,
[1110]
Knowing naught (like dogges) but following: A plague vpon your Epilepticke visage, Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Foole? Goose, if I had you vpon Sarum Plaine, I'ld driue ye cackling home to Camelot.
Corn.
[1115]

What art thou mad old Fellow?

Glost.

How fell you out, say that?

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, Then I, and such a knaue. Corn. Why do'st thou call him Knaue?
[1120]
What is his fault?
Kent.

His countenance likes me not.

Cor.

No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plaine, I haue seene better faces in my Time,
[1125]
Then stands on any shoulder that I see Before me, at this instant.
Corn. This is some Fellow, Who hauing beene prais'd for bluntnesse, doth affect A saucy roughnes, and constraines the garb
[1130]
Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter he, An honest mind and plaine, he must speake truth, And they will take it so, if not, hee's plaine. These kind of Knaues I know, which in this plainnesse Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
[1135]
Then twenty silly‐ducking obseruants, That stretch their duties nicely.
Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity, Vnder th'allowance of your great aspect, Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire
[1140]
On flickring 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 be­guild

you in a plaine accent, was a plaine Knaue, which

[1145]

for my part I will not be, though I should win your

displeasure to entreat me too't.

Corn.

What was th'offence you gaue him?

Ste. I neuer gaue him any: It pleas'd the King his Master very late
[1150]
To strike at me vpon his misconstruction, When he compact, and flattering his displeasure Tript me behind: being downe, insulted, rail'd, And put vpon him such a deale of Man, That worthied him, got praises of the King,
[1155]
For him attempting, who was selfe‐subdued, And in the fleshment of this dead exploit, Drew on me here againe.
Kent. None of these Rogues, and Cowards But Aiax is there Foole. Corn.
[1160]
Fetch forth the Stocks? You stubborne ancient Knaue, you reuerent Bragart, Wee'l teach you.
Kent. Sir, I am too old to learne: Call not your Stocks for me, I serue the King.
[1165]
On whose imployment I was sent to you, You shall doe small respects, show too bold malice Against the Grace, and Person of my Master, Stocking his Messenger.
Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;
[1170]
As I haue life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noone.
Reg.

Till noone? till night my Lord, and all night too.

Kent. Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog, You should not vse me so. Reg.

Sir, being his Knaue, I will. Stocks brought out.

Cor.
[1175]
This is a Fellow of the selfe same colour, Our Sister speakes of. Come, bring away the Stocks.
Glo. Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so, The King his Master, needs must take it ill That he so slightly valued in his Messenger,
[1180]
Should haue him thus restrained.
Cor.

Ile answere that.

Reg. My Sister may recieue it much more worsse, To haue her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted. Corn.

Come my Lord, away.

Exit. Glo.
[1185]
I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Dukes pleasure, Whose disposition all the world well knows Will not be rub'd nor stopt, Ile entreat for thee.
Kent. Pray do not Sir, I haue watch'd and trauail'd hard, Some time I shall sleepe out, the rest Ile whistle:
[1190]
A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles: Giue you good morrow.
Glo. The Duke's too blame in this, 'Twill be ill taken. Exit. Kent. Good King, that must approue the common saw,
[1195]
Thou out of Heauens benediction com'st To the warme Sun. Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe, That by thy comfortable Beames I may Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
[1200]
But miserie. I know 'tis from Cordelia, Who hath most fortunately beene inform'd Of my obscured course. And shall finde time From this enormous State, seeking to giue Losses their remedies. All weary and o're‐watch'd,
[1205]
Take vantage heauie eyes, not to behold This shamefull lodging. Fortune goodnight, Smile once more, turne thy wheele.
 

Download the digital text of the play

        
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="2">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Secunda.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 2]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Kent, and Steward seuerally.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <p n="1034">Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1035">I.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <p n="1036">Where may we set our horses?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1037">I'th' myre.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <p n="1038">Prythee, if thou lou'st me, tell me.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1039">I loue thee not.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ste.</speaker>
      <p n="1040">Why then I care not for thee.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1041">If I had thee in<hi rend="italic">Lipsbury</hi>Pinfold, I would make
      <lb n="1042"/>thee care for me.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ste.</speaker>
      <p n="1043">Why do'st thou vse me thus? I know thee not.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1044">Fellow I know thee.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ste.</speaker>
      <p n="1045">Wha<gap/>do'st thou know me for?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1046">A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a
      <lb n="1047"/>base, proud, shallow, beggerly, three‐suited‐hundred
      <lb n="1048"/>pound, filthy woosted‐stocking knaue, a Lilly‐liuered,
      <lb n="1049"/>action‐taking, whoreson glasse‐gazing super‐seruiceable
      <lb n="1050"/>finicall Rogue, one Trunke‐inheriting slaue, one that
      <lb n="1051"/>would'st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art no­thing
      <lb n="1052"/>but the composition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward,
      <lb n="1053"/>Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch,
      <lb n="1054"/>one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou
      <lb n="1055"/>deny'st the least sillable of thy addition.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <p n="1056">Why, what a monstrous Fellow art thou, thus
      <lb n="1057"/>to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor
      <lb n="1058"/>knowes thee?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1059">What a brazen‐fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny
      <lb n="1060"/>thou knowest me? Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy
      <lb n="1061"/>heeles, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,</p>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0802-0.jpg" n="292"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <p n="1062">for though it be night, yet the Moone shines, Ile make a
      <lb n="1063"/>sop oth' Moonshine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly
      <lb n="1064"/>Barber‐monger, draw.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <p n="1065">Away, I haue nothing to do with thee.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1066">Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters a­gainst
      <lb n="1067"/>the King, and take Vanitie the puppets part, a­gainst
      <lb n="1068"/>the Royaltie of her Father: draw you Rogue, or
      <lb n="1069"/>Ile so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascall, come
      <lb n="1070"/>your waies.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ste.</speaker>
      <p n="1071">Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1072">Strike you slaue: stand rogue, stand you neat
      <lb n="1073"/>slaue, strike.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <p n="1074">Helpe hoa, murther, murther.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Bastard, Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-lr-bas">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bast.</speaker>
      <p n="1075">How now, what's the matter? Part.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1076">With you goodman Boy, if you please, come,</l>
      <l n="1077">Ile flesh ye, come on yong Master.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-glo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Glo.</speaker>
      <p n="1078">Weapons? Armes? What's the matter here?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <p n="1079">Keepe peace vpon your liues, he dies that strikes
      <lb n="1080"/>againe, what is the matter?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-reg">
      <speaker rend="italic">Reg.</speaker>
      <p n="1081">The Messengers from our Sister, and the King?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <p n="1082">What is your difference, speake?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Stew.</speaker>
      <p n="1083">I am scarce in breath my Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1084">No Maruell, you haue so bestir'd your valour,
      <lb n="1085"/>you cowardly Rascall, nature disclaimes in thee: a Taylor
      <lb n="1086"/>made thee.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <p n="1087">Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1088">A Taylor Sir, a Stone‐cutter, or a Painter, could
      <lb n="1089"/>not haue made him so ill, though they had bin but two
      <lb n="1090"/>yeares oth'trade.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <p n="1091">Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ste.</speaker>
      <p n="1092">This ancient Ruffian Sir, whose life I haue spar'd
      <lb n="1093"/>at sute of his gray‐beard.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1094">Thou whoreson Zed, thou vnnecessary letter:
      <lb n="1095"/>my Lord, if you will giue me leaue, I will tread this vn­boulted
      <lb n="1096"/>villaine into morter, and daube the wall of a
      <lb n="1097"/>Iakes with him. Spare my gray‐beard, you wagtaile?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <l n="1098">Peace sirrah,</l>
      <l n="1099">You beastly knaue, know you no reuerence?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1100">Yes Sir, but anger hath a priuiledge.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <p n="1101">Why art thou angrie?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1102">That such a slaue as this should weare a Sword,</l>
      <l n="1103">Who weares no honesty: such smiling rogues as these,</l>
      <l n="1104">Like Rats oft bite the holy cords a twaine,</l>
      <l n="1105">Which are t'intrince, t'vnloose: smooth euery passion</l>
      <l n="1106">That in the natures of their Lords rebell,</l>
      <l n="1107">Being oile to fire, snow to the colder moodes,</l>
      <l n="1108">Reuenge, affirme, and turne their Halcion beakes</l>
      <l n="1109">With euery gall, and varry of their Masters,</l>
      <l n="1110">Knowing naught (like dogges) but following:</l>
      <l n="1111">A plague vpon your Epilepticke visage,</l>
      <l n="1112">Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Foole?</l>
      <l n="1113">Goose, if I had you vpon<hi rend="italic">Sarum</hi>Plaine,</l>
      <l n="1114">I'ld driue ye cackling home to<hi rend="italic">Camelot</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <p n="1115">What art thou mad old Fellow?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-glo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Glost.</speaker>
      <p n="1116">How fell you out, say that?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1117">No contraries hold more antipathy,</l>
      <l n="1118">Then I, and such a knaue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <l n="1119">Why do'st thou call him Knaue?</l>
      <l n="1120">What is his fault?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1121">His countenance likes me not.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <p n="1122">No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers<gap/>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1123">Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plaine,</l>
      <l n="1124">I haue seene better faces in my Time,</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="1125">Then stands on any shoulder that I see</l>
      <l n="1126">Before me, at this instant.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <l n="1127">This is some Fellow,</l>
      <l n="1128">Who hauing beene prais'd for bluntnesse, doth affect</l>
      <l n="1129">A saucy roughnes, and constraines the garb</l>
      <l n="1130">Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter he,</l>
      <l n="1131">An honest mind and plaine, he must speake truth,</l>
      <l n="1132">And they will take it so, if not, hee's plaine.</l>
      <l n="1133">These kind of Knaues I know, which in this plainnesse</l>
      <l n="1134">Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,</l>
      <l n="1135">Then twenty silly‐ducking obseruants,</l>
      <l n="1136">That stretch their duties nicely.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1137">Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,</l>
      <l n="1138">Vnder th'allowance of your great aspect,</l>
      <l n="1139">Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire</l>
      <l n="1140">On flickring<hi rend="italic">Phoebus</hi>front.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <p n="1141">What mean'st by this?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <p n="1142">To go out of my dialect, which you discom­mend
      <lb n="1143"/>so much; I know Sir, I am no flatterer, he that be­guild
      <lb n="1144"/>you in a plaine accent, was a plaine Knaue, which
      <lb n="1145"/>for my part I will not be, though I should win your
      <lb n="1146"/>displeasure to entreat me too't.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <p n="1147">What was th'offence you gaue him?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ste">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ste.</speaker>
      <l n="1148">I neuer gaue him any:</l>
      <l n="1149">It pleas'd the King his Master very late</l>
      <l n="1150">To strike at me vpon his misconstruction,</l>
      <l n="1151">When he compact, and flattering his displeasure</l>
      <l n="1152">Tript me behind: being downe, insulted, rail'd,</l>
      <l n="1153">And put vpon him such a deale of Man,</l>
      <l n="1154">That worthied him, got praises of the King,</l>
      <l n="1155">For him attempting, who was selfe‐subdued,</l>
      <l n="1156">And in the fleshment of this dead exploit,</l>
      <l n="1157">Drew on me here againe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1158">None of these Rogues, and Cowards</l>
      <l n="1159">But<hi rend="italic">Aiax</hi>is there Foole.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <l n="1160">Fetch forth the Stocks?</l>
      <l n="1161">You stubborne ancient Knaue, you reuerent Bragart,</l>
      <l n="1162">Wee'l teach you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1163">Sir, I am too old to learne:</l>
      <l n="1164">Call not your Stocks for me, I serue the King.</l>
      <l n="1165">On whose imployment I was sent to you,</l>
      <l n="1166">You shall doe small respects, show too bold malice</l>
      <l n="1167">Against the Grace, and Person of my Master,</l>
      <l n="1168">Stocking his Messenger.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <l n="1169">Fetch forth the Stocks;</l>
      <l n="1170">As I haue life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noone.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-reg">
      <speaker rend="italic">Reg.</speaker>
      <p n="1171">Till noone? till night my Lord, and all night too.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1172">Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog,</l>
      <l n="1173">You should not vse me so.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-reg">
      <speaker rend="italic">Reg.</speaker>
      <p n="1174">Sir, being his Knaue, I will.<hi rend="italic">Stocks brought out.</hi>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <l n="1175">This is a Fellow of the selfe same colour,</l>
      <l n="1176">Our Sister speakes of. Come, bring away the Stocks.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-glo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Glo.</speaker>
      <l n="1177">Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so,</l>
      <l n="1178">The King his Master, needs must take it ill</l>
      <l n="1179">That he so slightly valued in his Messenger,</l>
      <l n="1180">Should haue him thus restrained.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-cor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cor.</speaker>
      <p n="1181">Ile answere that.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-reg">
      <speaker rend="italic">Reg.</speaker>
      <l n="1182">My Sister may recieue it much more worsse,</l>
      <l n="1183">To haue her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-crn">
      <speaker rend="italic">Corn.</speaker>
      <p n="1184">Come my Lord, away.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-lr-glo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Glo.</speaker>
      <l n="1185">I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Dukes pleasure,</l>
      <l n="1186">Whose disposition all the world well knows</l>
      <l n="1187">Will not be rub'd nor stopt, Ile entreat for thee.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1188">Pray do not Sir, I haue watch'd and trauail'd hard,</l>
      <l n="1189">Some time I shall sleepe out, the rest Ile whistle:</l>
      <l n="1190">A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles:</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0803-0.jpg" n="293"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1191">Giue you good morrow.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lr-glo">
      <speaker rend="italic">Glo.</speaker>
      <l n="1192">The Duke's too blame in this,</l>
      <l n="1193">'Twill be ill taken.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-lr-ken">
      <speaker rend="italic">Kent.</speaker>
      <l n="1194">Good King, that must approue the common saw,</l>
      <l n="1195">Thou out of Heauens benediction com'st</l>
      <l n="1196">To the warme Sun.</l>
      <l n="1197">Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe,</l>
      <l n="1198">That by thy comfortable Beames I may</l>
      <l n="1199">Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles</l>
      <l n="1200">But miserie. I know 'tis from<hi rend="italic">Cordelia</hi>,</l>
      <l n="1201">Who hath most fortunately beene inform'd</l>
      <l n="1202">Of my obscured course. And shall finde time</l>
      <l n="1203">From this enormous State, seeking to giue</l>
      <l n="1204">Losses their remedies. All weary and o're‐watch'd,</l>
      <l n="1205">Take vantage heauie eyes, not to behold</l>
      <l n="1206">This shamefull lodging. Fortune goodnight,</l>
      <l n="1207">Smile once more, turne thy wheele.</l>
   </sp>
</div>

        
        

Download the XML