Lear.
'Tis strange, that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger.

Gent.
As I learn'd,
The night before, there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.

Kent.

Hail to thee, noble master!

Lear.

Ha! mak'st thou thy shame thy pastime?

Kent.

No my lord.

Fool.

Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters; horses are ty'd by the heads, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men by th' legs; when a man is over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether stocks.

Lear.
What's he, that hath so much thy Place mistook,
To set thee here?

Kent.
It is both he and she,
Your son and daughter.

Lear.
No.

Kent.
Yes.

Lear.
No, I say.

Kent.
I say, yea.

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 murther,
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.
My lord, when at their home
I did commend your Highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place, that shew'd
My duty kneeling, came a reeking Post,

Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Gonerill his mistress, salutation;
Deliver'd letters spight of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents
They summon'd up their meiny, strait took 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, which of late
Display'd so sawcily against your Highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, I 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 fly that way.
Fathers, that wear rags,
Do make their children blind;
But fathers, that bear bags,
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor.
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours from
Thy dear daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.

Lear.
Oh, how this mother swells up tow'rd my heart!
Hysterica passio,—down, thou climbing sorrow,
Thy element's below; where is this daughter?

Kent.
With the Earl, Sir, here within.

Lear.
Follow me not; stay here. [Exit.

Gen.
Made you no more offence,
But what you speak of?

Kent.
None;
How chance the King comes with so small a number?

Fool.

An thou hadst been set i'th' stocks for that question, thou'dst well deserved it.

Kent.

Why, fool?

Fool.

We'll set thee to school to an Ant, to teach thee there's no lab'ring i'th' 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 upward, 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.

Kent.
Where learn'd you this, fool?

Fool.
Not i'th' Stocks, fool. Enter Lear and Glo'ster.

Lear.
Deny to speak with me? they're sick, they're weary,
They have travell'd all the night? mere fetches,
The images of revolt and flying off.
Bring me a better answer—

Glo.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke:
How unremoveable, and fixt he is
In his own course.

Lear.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
Fiery? what fiery quality? why, Glo'ster,
I'd speak with th' 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
Wou'd 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're not our selves,

When Nature, being opprest, commands the mind
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear;
And am fall'n out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit,
For the sound man.—Death on my state! but wherefore
Should he sit here? this Act perswades me,
That this remotion of the Duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth;
Go, tell the Duke and's 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 would have all well betwixt you.

Lear.
Oh 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'th' Pasty alive; she rapt 'em o'th' coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, down wantons, down; 'Twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his horse butter'd his hay.

Lear.

Good morrow to you both.

Corn.

Hail to your Grace!

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 wert not glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adult'ress. O, are you free? [To Kent.
Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: oh 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,
With how deprav'd a quality—oh Regan!—

Reg.
I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have Hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.

Lear.
Say? How is that?—

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

She have restrain'd the riots of your followers;
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesom 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 your Self: 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 Use?(18) ^note

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 blank upon me; struck me with her tongue,(19) ^note

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, Sir! fie!

Lear.
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornful eyes! infect her beauty,
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful sun
To fall, and blast her pride.

Reg.
O the blest gods!
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.

Lear.
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse:
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give(20) ^note

Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in. Thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of child-hood,
Effects of courtesie, dues of gratitude:
Thy half o'th' Kingdom thou hast not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.

Reg.
Good Sir, to th' purpose. [Trumpet within.

Lear.
Who put my man i'th' Stocks? Enter Steward.

Corn.
What trumpet's that?

Reg.
I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here. Is your lady come?

Lear.
This is a slave, whose easie-borrowed pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
Out, varlet, from my sight.

Corn.
What means your Grace? Enter Gonerill.

Lear.
Who stockt my servant? Regan, I've good hope,
Thou didst not know on't.—Who comes here?
O Heav'ns,
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway(21) ^note

Hallow obedience, if your selves are old,

Make it your cause; send down and take my part.
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?
O Regan, will you take her by the hand?

Gon.
Why not by th' hand, Sir? how have I offended?
All's not offence, that indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms so.

Lear.
O sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold?—how came my man i'th Stocks?

Corn.
I set him there, Sir: but his own disorders
Deserv'd much less advancement.

Lear.
You? did you?

Reg.
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, 'till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me;
I'm now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

Lear.
Return to her? and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chuse(22) ^note



To be a comrade with the wolf and owl;
To wage, against the enmity o'th' air,
Necessity's sharp pinch—Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dow'rless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and 'Squire-like pension beg,
To keep base life a-foot;—Return with her?
Perswade me rather to be slave, and sumpter,
To this detested groom.

Gon.
At your choice, Sir.

Lear.
I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad,

I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewel;
We'll no more meet, no more see one another;
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter,
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine; thou art a bile,
A plague-sore, or imbossed carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood; but I'll not chide thee.
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it;
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
Mend, when thou can'st; be better, at thy leisure.
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan;
I, and my hundred Knights.

Reg.
Not altogether so;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome; give ear to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so—
But she knows what she does.

Loar.
Is this well spoken?

Reg.
I dare avouch it, Sir; what, fifty followers?
Is it not well? what should you need of more?
Yea, or so many? since both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number: how in one house
Should many people under two commands
Hold amity? 'tis hard, almost impossible.

Gon.
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine?

Reg.
Why not, my lord? if then they chanc'd to slack ye,
We could controul them; if you'll come to me,
(For now I spy a danger) I intreat you
To bring but five and twenty; to no more
Will I give place or notice.

Lear.
I gave you all—

Reg.
And in good time you gave it.

Lear.
Made you my Guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be follow'd

With such a number; must I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, said you so?

Reg.
And speak't again, my lord, no more with me.

Lear.
Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd,
When others are more wicked: Not being worst,
Stands in some rank of praise; I'll go with thee;
Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty;
And thou art twice her love.

Gon.
Hear me, my lord;
What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?

Reg.
What needs one?

Lear.
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous;
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beasts. Thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm; but for true need,
You heav'ns, give me that patience which I need!
You see me here, you Gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you, that stir these daughters hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger;(23) ^note

O let not womens weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks. No, you unnat'ral hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,(24) ^note