power, but as it is fuffered, come to mee, that of this I may fpeake more; if our father would fleepe till I wakt him, you fhould enioy halfe h's reuenew for euer, and liue the beloued of your brother Edgar.

Hum, confpiracy, flept till I wakt him, you should enioy halfe his reuenew: my fonne Edgar, had he a hand to write this, a hart and braine to breed it in? when came this to you, who brought it?

Baft. It was not brought me my lord, there's the cunning of it, I found it throwne in at the cafement of my closet.

Gli. You know the carracter to be your brothers ? Beft. If the matter were good, my lord, I durft fweare it were his, but in refpect of that, I would faine thinke it were

not.

Gloft. Is it his?

Baft. It is his hand my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents.

Gloft. Hath he neuer heeretofore founded you in this bufinelle ?

Baft. Neuer my lord, but I haue often heard him maintaine it to be fit, that fonnes at perfit age, and fathers declining, his father fhould be as ward to the fonne, and the fonne mannage the reuenew.

Gloft. O villaine, villaine, his very opinion in the letter, abhorrid villaine, vnnaturall detefted bruitifh villaine, worse then bruitifh, go fir feeke him; I, apprehend him, abhominable villaine, where is he?

Baft. I do not well know my lord, if it fhall please you to fufpend your indignation against my brother, till you can deriue from him better teftimony of this intent, you fhal runne a certaine courfe, where if you violently proceed against him, miftaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your owne honour, and fhake in peeces the heart of his obedience,

I dare pawne downe my life for him, hee hath wrote this to affection to your honour, and to no further pretence

feele my

of danger.

Ghaft. Thinke you fo?

Baft. If your honour iudge it meete, I will place you where you fhall heare vs conferre of this, and by an aurigular affurance haue your fatisfaction, and that without any further delay then this very euening.

Gloft. He cannot be such a monster.

Bat. Nor is not fure.

Gloft. To his father, that fo tenderly and entirely loues him: heauen and earth! Edmund feeke him out, winde me into him, I pray you frame your bufines after your owne wifedome, I wold vnftate myfelfe to be in a due refolution.

Bast. I shall feeke him fir presently, conuey the bufinesse as I fhall fee meanes, and acquaint you withall.

Ch. These late eclipfes in the funne and moone, portend no good to vs, though the wifedome of nature can reafon thus and thus, yet nature findes itfelfe fcourg'd by the fequent effects, loue cooles, friendship fals off, brothers diuide, in cities mutinies, in countries difcords, pallaces treason, the bond crackt betweene fonne and father; finde out this villaine, Edmund it shall lose thee nothing, do it carefully; and the noble and true hearted Kent banifht, his offence honeft; ftrange, ftrange!

Baft. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are ficke in fortune, often the furfet of our owne behauiour, we make guilty of our difafters, the funne, the moone, and the ftars, as if we were villaines by neceffity, fooles by heauenly compulfion, knaues, theeues, and trecherers by fpirituall predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforc'ft obedience of planitary influence, and all that we are euill in, by a diuine thrusting on, an admirable

H 3

mirable euafion of whore-mafter man, to lay his goatifh difpofition to the charge of ftars: my father compounded with my mother vnder the Dragons taile, and my natiuity was vnder Vrfa maior, fo that it followes I am rough and lecherous; fut, I should haue beene that I am, had the maidenlest starre of the firmament twiuckled on my baftardy; Edgar,

Enter Edgar.

and out he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy, mine is villanous melancholy, with a figh like them of Bedlam; O thefe ecclipfes do portend thefe diuifions.

Edgar. How now brother Edmund, what ferious contemplation are you in ?

Baft. I am thinking brother of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow thefe ccclipses.

Edg. Doe you bufie your felfe about that?

Baft. I promife you the effects he writ of, fucceed vnhap pily, as of vnnaturalneffe betweene the childe and the parent, death, dearth, diffolutions of ancient armies, diuifions in ftate, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles, needleffe diffidences, banishment of friends, diffipation of cohorts, nuptiall breaches, and I know not what.

Edg. How long haue you bin in a fectary astronomicall?
Baft. Come, come, when faw you my father last?
Edg. Why the night gone by.

Baft. Spake you with him?

Edg. Two houres together.

Baft. Parted you in good tearmes? found you no displea fure in him by word or countenance ?

Edg. None at all.

Baft. Bethinke yourselfe wherein you may haue offended him, and at my entreaty, forbeare his prefence, till fome little time hath qualified the heate of his difpleafure, which

at

at this inftant fo rageth in him, that with the mischiefe of your person it would scarfe allay.

Edg. Some villaine hath done me wrong.

Baft. That's my feare brother, I aduife you to the best, goe arm'd, I am no honeft man if there be any good meaning towards you, I haue told you what I haue seen and heard, but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it; pray

you away.

Edg. Shall I heare from you anon?

Baft. I do ferue you in this businesse :

A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whose nature is fo farre from doing harmes,
That he fufpects none, on whofe foolish honesty
My practises ride eafie, I fee the businesse,
Let me if not by birth, haue lands by wit,

Exit Edgår.

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

Exit.

Enter Gonorill and a Gentleman.

Gin. Did my father ftrike my gentleman for chiding of his foole?

Gent. Yes madam.

Gon. By day and night he wrongs me,

Euery houre he flashes into one groffe crime or other,

That fets vs all at ods. Ile not endure it ;

His knights grow riotous, and himselfe vpbraids vs

On euery trifle when he returnes from hunting,

I will not fpeake with him, fay I am ficke.

If you come flacke of former feruices,

You fhall do well, the fault of it Ile answer.

Gent. Hee's comming madam, I heare him.

Gon. Put on what weary negligence you pleafe, you and your fellow-feruants, Ide haue it come in question, if he diflike it, let him to our fister, whose minde and mine I know in

H 4

that

that are one, not to be ouer-rulde; idle olde man that ftill would manage thofe authorities that he hath giuen away, now by my life olde fooles are babes againe, and must be vsed with checkes as flatteries, when they are feene abus'd, remember what I tell you.

Gent. Very well, madam.

Gon. And let his knights haue colder lookes among you, what growes of it no matter, aduife your fellowes fo, I would breed from hence occafions, and I fhall, that I may speake, Ile write straight to my fifter to hold my very course; goe prepare for dinner..

Enter Kent.

Exit.

Ken. If but as well I other accents borrow, that can my fpeech defuse, my good intent may carry through it felfe to that ful iffue for which I raiz'd my likeneffe; now banisht Kent, if thou canst ferue where thou doft ftand condemn'd, thy mafter whom thou loueft, fhall finde the full of labour.

Enter Lear.

Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, goe get it ready: how now, what art thou?

Kent. A man fir.

Lear. What doft thou profeffe? what wouldst thou with vs?

Kent. I doe profeffe to bee no leffe then I feeme, to ferue him truely that wil put me in truft, to loue him that is honeft, to conuerfe with him that is wife and faies little, to feare iudgement, to fight when I cannot chufe, and to eate no fish.

Lear. What art thou?

Kent. A very honeft hearted fellow, and as poore as the king.

Lear.