Kent. Yes.

Lear. No, I say.

Kent. I say, yea.

Lear. No, no; they would not.

Kent. Yes, they have.

Lear. By Jupiter, I swear no.

Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay.

Lear. They durst not do't;

They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than

murder,

To do upon respect such violent outrage:
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Coming from us.

Kent.
I did commend your highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress, salutations;
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny,1 straight took

My lord, when at their home

horse;

Commanded me to follow, and attend

The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,

Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine,
(Being the very fellow that of late
Display'd so saucily against your highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, drew;
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries:
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese Ay that way.

Fathers, that wear rags,

Do make their children blind;

(1) People, train, or retinue.

Fortune, that arrant whore, Ne'er turns the key to the poor.But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.

Lear. O, how this mother2 swells up toward my

heart!

Hysterica passio! down, thou climbing sorrow, Thy element's below!- Where is this daughter?

Kent. With the earl, sir, here within.

Lear.

Stay here.

Follow me not;

[Exit.

Gent. Made you no more offence than what you

speak of?

Kent. None.

How chance the king comes with so small a train? Fool. An thou hadst been set i'the stocks for that question, thou hadst well deserved it.

Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no labouring in the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.

That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,

Will pack, when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry, the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:

(1) A quibble between dolours and dollars.
(2) The disease called the mother.

The knave turns fool, that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.

Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool?
Fool. Not i'the stocks, fool.

Re-enter Lear, with Gloster.

Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick?

they are weary?

They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches;

The images of revolt and flying off!

Fetch me a better answer.

Glo.

My dear lord,

You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremovable and fix'd he is

In his own course.

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster, I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife. Glo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. Lear. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me,

man?

Glo. Ay, my good lord.
Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall; the

dear father

Would with his daughter speak, commands her

service:

Are they inform'd of this?-My breath and blood!-
Fiery? the fiery duke?-Tell the hot duke, that-
No, but not yet:-may be, he is not well:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office,

Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,

To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
For the sound man.-Death on my state! wherefore
[Looking on Kent.

Should he sit here? This act persuades me,
That this remotion1 of the duke and her

(1) Removing from their own house.

Is practice! only. Give me my servant forth:
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry-Sleep to death.

Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you.
[Exit.
Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart!-but,

down.

Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels, when she put them i'the paste2 alive; she rapp'd 'em o'the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, Down, wantons, down: 'Twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his horse, butter'd the hay.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.

Lear. Good morrow to you both.

Corn.

Hail to your grace!

[Kent is set at liberty.

Reg. I am glad to see your highness.
Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what

reason

I have to think so: if thou should'st not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepúlchring an adultress.-O, are you free?

[To Kent.

Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here,-
[Points to his heart.

I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe,
Of how deprav'd a quality - O Regan!

Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience; I have hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant3 her duty.

Lear.

Say, how is that?

Reg. I cannot think, my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation: If, sir, perchance,

(1) Artifice. (2) Crust of a pye.
(3) Be wanting in.

C

She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,

As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My curses on her!

Reg.

O, sir, you are old;

Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be rul'd, and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself: Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;

Say, you have wrong'd her, sir.

Lear.

Ask her forgiveness?

Do you but mark how this becomes the house : 1
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;

Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg,

[Kneeling.

That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.

Reg. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly

tricks:

Return you to my sister.

Lear.

Never, Regan

She hath abated me of half my train;
Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,

Most serpent-like, upon the very heart :

All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,

You taking airs, with lameness !

Corn.

Fie, fie, fie!

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding

flames

Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,

You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,

To fall and blast her pride!

Reg.

O the blest gods!

So will you wish on me, when the rash mood's on. Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my

curse;

Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give

(1) The order of families.