OSWALD.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar’st thou support a publish’d traitor? Hence;
Lest that th’infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
EDGAR.
Chill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion.
OSWALD.
Let go, slave, or thou diest!
EDGAR.
Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volke pass. An chud ha’ bin zwaggered out of my life, ’twould not ha’ bin zo long as ’tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’old man; keep out, che vor ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder: chill be plain with you.
OSWALD.
Out, dunghill!
EDGAR.
Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come! No matter vor your foins.
[They fight, and Edgar knocks him down.]
OSWALD.
Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse.
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
And give the letters which thou find’st about me
To Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out
Upon the British party. O, untimely death!
[Dies.]
EDGAR.
I know thee well. A serviceable villain,
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire.