485chiefe of your person, it would scarsely alay.

486Edg. Some Villaine hath done me wrong.

487Edm. That's my feare, I pray you haue a continent

488forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower: and as

489I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will

490fitly bring you to heare my Lord speake: pray ye goe,

491there's my key: if you do stirre abroad, goe arm'd.

492Edg. Arm'd, Brother?

493Edm. Brother, I aduise you to the best, I am no honest

494man, if ther be any good meaning toward you: I haue told

495you what I haue seene, and heard: But faintly. Nothing

496like the image, and horror of it, pray you away.

497Edg. Shall I heare from you anon? Exit.

498Edm. I do serue you in this businesse:

499A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble,

500Whose nature is so farre from doing harmes,

501That he suspects none: on whose foolish honestie

502My practises ride easie: I see the businesse.

503Let me, if not by birth, haue lands by wit,

504All with me's meete, that I can fashion fit. Exit.

507Gon. Did my Father strike my Gentleman for chi-

508ding of his Foole?

509Ste. I Madam.

510Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me, euery howre

511He flashes into one grosse crime, or other,

512That sets vs all at ods: Ile not endure it;

513His Knights grow riotous,and himselfe vpbraides vs

514On euery trifle. When he returnes from hunting,

515I will not speake with him, say I am sicke,

516If you come slacke of former seruices,

517You shall do well, the fault of it Ile answer.

518Ste. He's comming Madam, I heare him.

519Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,

520You and your Fellowes: I'de haue it come to question;

521If he distaste it, let him to my Sister,

522Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,

523Remember what I haue said.

524Ste. Well Madam.

525Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among

526you: what growes of it no matter, aduise your fellowes

527so, Ile write straight to my Sister to hold my course; pre-

528pare for dinner. Exeunt.

531Kent. If but as will I other accents borrow,

532That can my speech defuse, my good intent

533May carry through it selfe to that full issue

534For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent,

535If thou canst serue where thou dost stand condemn'd,

536So may it come, thy Master whom thou lou'st,

537Shall find thee full of labours.

539Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, go get it rea-

540dy: how now, what art thou?

541Kent. A man Sir.

542Lear. What dost thou professe? What would'st thou

543with vs?

544Kent. I do professe to be no lesse then I seeme; to serue

545him truely that will put me in trust, to loue him that is

546honest, to conuerse with him that is wise and saies little, to

547feare iudgement, to fight when I cannot choose, and to

548eate no fish.

549Lear. What art thou?

550Kent. A very honest hearted Fellow, and as poore as

551the King.

552Lear. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect,as hee's for a

553King, thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou?

554Kent. Seruice.

555Lear. Who wouldst thou serue?

556Kent. You.

557Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?

558Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance,

559which I would faine call Master.

560Lear. What's that?

561Kent. Authority.

562Lear. What seruices canst thou do?

563Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a

564curious tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message

565bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qual-

566lified in, and the best of me, is Dilligence.

567Lear. How old art thou?

568Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing,

569nor so old to dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on

570my backe forty eight.

571Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no

572worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner

573ho, dinner, where's my knaue? my Foole? Go you and call

574my Foole hither. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter?

576Ste. So please you---- Exit.

577Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clot-

578pole backe: wher's my Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's

579asleepe, how now? Where's that Mungrell?

580Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well.

581Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I

582call'd him?

583Knigh. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he

584would not.

585Lear. He would not ?

586Knight. My Lord, I know not what the matter is,

587but to my iudgement your Highnesse is not entertain'd

588with that Ceremonious affection as you were wont,

589theres a great abatement of kindnesse appeares as well in

590the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also, and

591your Daughter.

592Lear. Ha? Saist thou so?

593Knigh. I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee

594mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent, when I thinke

595your Highnesse wrong'd.

596Lear. Thou but remembrest me of mine owne Con-

597ception, I haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late,

598which I haue rather blamed as mine owne iealous curio-

599sitie, then as a very pretence and purpose of vnkindnesse;

600I will looke further intoo't: but where's my Foole? I

601haue not seene him this two daies.

602Knight. Since my young Ladies going into France