Stew. Help ho! Murther, murther!

Enter Baftard, Cornwall, Regan, Glofter, and Servants. Baft. How now, what's the Matter? Part

Kent. With you, goodman Boy, if you please, come, I'll flesh ye, come on young Mafter.

Glo. Weapons? Arms? what's the Matter here?

Corn. Keep Peace upon your Lives, he dies that strikes again, what is the Matter?

Reg. The Meffengers from our Sifter, and the King?
Corn. What is your difference? fpeak,

Stew. I am fcarce in breath, my Lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have fo beftir'd your Valour, you cowardly Rafcal, Nature difclaims all fhare in thee: A Tailor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a ftrange Fellow, a Tailor make a Man? Kent. A Tailor, Sir? a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could not have made him fo ill, tho' they had been but two Years o'th' Trade,

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your Quarrel?

Stew. The ancient Ruffian, Sir, whofe Life I have spar'd at fute of his gray beard.

Kent. Thou whorfon Zed! thou unneceffary Letter! my Lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted Villain into Mortar, and daub the Wall of a Jakes with him, Spare my gray Beard, you wag-tail !---

Corn. Peace, Sirrah!

You beaftly Knave, know you no Reverence?
Kent. Yes, Sir, but anger hath a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry?

Kent. That fuch a Slave as this fhould wear a Sword,
Who wears no Honefty: Such fmiling Rogues as thefe,
Like Rats oft bite the holy Cords a-twain,

Which art t'intrince, t'unloofe: Smooth every Paffion
That in the Natures of their Lords rebel,
Being Oil to Fire, Snow to their colder Moods,
Renege, affirm, and turn their Halcyon beaks,
With every gale, and vary of their Masters,
Knowing nought, like Dogs, but following:
A plague upon your Epileptick Vifage,

miftaken; for my Duty cannot be filent, when I think your Highness is wrong'd.

Lear. Thou but remembreft me of my own Conception, I have perceiv'd a moft faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as my own jealous Curiofity, than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness; I will look further into't; but where's my Fool? I have not feen him this two Days.

Knight. Since my young Lady's going into France, Sir, the Fool hath much pined away.

Lear. No more of that, I have noted it well; go you and tell my Daughter, I would fpeak with her. Go you call hither my Fool; O you Sir, come you hither, Sir, who am I Sir?

Enter Steward.

Stew. My Lady's Father.

Lear. My Lady's Father? my Lord's Knaye, you whorfon Dog, you Slave, you Cur,

Stew. I am none of thefe, my Lord;

I beseech your pardon.

Lear. Do you bandy Looks with me, you Rafcal?

Stew. I'll not be ftrucken, my Lord.

[Striking him.

Kent. Nor tript neither, you base Foot-ball player.

Lear. I thank thee, Fellow.

Thou ferv'ft me, and I'll love thee.

[Tripping up his Heels.

Kent. Come, Sir, arife, away, I'll teach you Differences: Away, away, if you will measure your Lubbers length again, tarry; but away, go to; haveyou Wisdom, fo.

Lear. Now my friendly Knave I thank thee, there's ear neft of thy Service.

Enter Fool.

Fool. Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcomb.

[Giving his Cap. Lear. How now my pretty Knave? how doft thou? Fool. Sirrah, you were beft take my Coxcomb.

Kent. Why, my Boy?

Fool. Why? for taking one's part that is out of Favour; nay, and thou canst not fmile as the Wind fits, thou❜lt catch cold shortly, there take my Coxcomb; why, this Fellow has

banish'd

banish'd two on's Daughter, and did the third a Bleffing against his Will; if thou follow him, thou inuft needs wear my Coxcomb. How now Nuncle? would I had two Coxcombs, and two Daughters.

Lear. Why, my Boy?

Fool. If I give them all my living, I'll keep my Coxcomb my felf; there's mine, beg another of thy Daughters. Lear. Take heed, Sirrah, the whip.

Fool. Truth's a Dog muft to kennel, he must be whip'd out, when the Lady Brach may ftand by th' Fire and stink. Lear. A peftilent gall to me.

Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a Speech.

Lear. Do.

Fool. Mark it, Nuncle;

Have more than thou fhoweft,
Speak lefs than thou knoweft,
Lend less than thou oweft,
Ride more than thou goeft,
Learn more than thou troweft,
Set less than thou throweft:
Leave thy Drink and thy Whore,
And keep in Door,

And thou shalt have more,
Than two tens to a score.

Kent. This is nothing, Fool.

[To Kent.

Fool. Then it is like the Breath of an unfee'd Lawyer, you give me nothing for't, can you make no ufe of nothing, Nuncle ?

Lear. Why no, Boy,

Nothing can be made out of nothing.

Fool. Prithee tell him, fo much the Rent of his Land comes to, he will not believe a Fool.

Lear. A bitter Fool.

[To Kent.

Fool. Doft thou know the difference, my Boy, between a bitter Fool and a fweet one?

Lear. No Lad; teach me.

Fool. Nuncle, give me an Egg, and I'll give thee two Crowns.

Lear. What two Crowns fhall they be?

Fool. Why, after I have cut the Egg i'th' middle, and eat up the Meat, the two Crowns of the Egg: When thou dloveft

cloveft thy Crown i'th' middle, and gav'ft away both parts, thou bor'st thine Afs on thy Back o'er the Dirt; thou hadst little Wit in thy bald Crown, when thou gav'ft thy golden one away: If I fpeak like my felf in this, let him be whipt

that first finds it fo.

Fools had ne'er lefs Grace in a Year,
For Wifemen are grown foppish,
And know not how their Wits to wear,
Their Manners are fo apifb.

[Singing.

Lear. When were you wont to be fo full of Songs, Sirrah? Fool. have ufed it Nuncle, e'er fince thou mad'ft thy Daughters thy Mothers; for when thou gav'ft them the Rod, and put'ft down thine own Breeches, then they

For fudden Joy did weep,

And I for Sorrow fung,

That fuch a King fhould play bo peep.

And go the Fools among.

[Singing.

Prithee Nuncle keep a School-Mafter that can teach thy Fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie.

Lear. And you lie, Sirrah, we'll have you whipt.

Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy Daughters are: they'll have me whipt for fpeaking true, thou'lt have me whipt for Lying, and fometimes I am whipt, for holding my Peace. I had rather be any kind of thing than a Fool, and yet I would not be thee, Nuncle; thou haft pared thy Wit o' both fides, and left nothing i'th' middle; here comes one o' the parings.

Enter Goneril.

Lear. How now, Daughter? what makes that Frontlet on? You are too much of lare i'th' frown.

Fool. Thou waft a pretty Fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a Figure; I am better than thou art now, I am a Fool, thou art nothing. Yes forfooth I will hold my Tongue, fo your Face you fay nothing.

bids me,

tho'

Mum, Mum, he that keeps nor Cruft, nor Crum, [Singing.
Weary of all, shall want fome.

That's a fheal'd Pefcod.

Gon. Not only, Sir, this, your all-licenc'd Fool,

But

But other of your infolent Retinue

Do hourly Carp and Quarrel, breaking forth
In rank, and not to be endured Riots, Sir.

I had thought by making this well known unto you,
To have found a fafe redress; but now grow fearful
By what your felf too late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on
By your Allowance; which if you should, the fault
Would not scape Cenfure, nor the Redreffes fleep,
Which in the tender of a wholsome weal,
Might in their working do you that Offence,
Which elfe were Shame, that then neceffity
Will call difcreet proceeding.

Fool. For you know, Nuncle, the Hedge-fparrow fed the Cuckoo fo long, that it had its Head bit off by its young; fo out went the Candle, and we were left darkling. Lear. Are you our Daughter?

Gon. I would you would make use of your good Wifdom, Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away

Thefe Difpofitions, which of late tranfport you
From what you rightly are.

Fool. May not an Afs know when the Cart draws the Horfe? Whoop Jug I love thee.

Lear. Does any here know me? This is not Lear: Does Lear walk thus ? Speak thus? Where are his Eyes? Either his Notion weakens, his Difcernings

Are Lethargied-Ha! waking!-'Tis not fo;

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Fool. Lear's Shadow.

Lear. Your Name, fair Gentlewoman !-----
Gon. This Admiration, Sir, is much o'th' favour
Of other your new Pranks. I do beseech you
To understand my purposes aright:

You, as you are Old and Reverend, fhould be Wife.
Here do you keep a hundred Knights and Squires,
Men fo diforder'd, fo debofh'd, and bold,
That this our Court, infected with their Manners,
Shews like a riotous Inn; Epicurism and Luft
Make it more like a Tavern or a Brothel,
Than a grac'd Palace. The Shame it felf doth speak
For inftant remedy. Be then defir'd,

By