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Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?

Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain,

I'ld 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 th' 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 beguil'd 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 th' 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, conjunct, 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 selfsame 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 contemn'dest wretches

For pilf'rings and most common trespasses

Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill

That he, so slightly valued 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 Gloucester 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