Kent.
The King of France so suddenly gone back!
Know you the reason?

Gent.
Something he left imperfect in the State,
Which since his coming forth is thought of, which
Imports the Kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his Return was most requir'd and necessary.

Kent.
Who hath he left behind him General?

Gent.
The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Far.

Kent.

Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of grief?

Gent.
I, Sir, she took 'em, read 'em in my presence;
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a Queen
Over her passion, which, most rebel-like,
Sought to be King o'er her.

Kent.
O, then it mov'd her.—

Gent.
But not to Rage. Patience and Sorrow strove
Which should express her goodliest; you have seen
Sun-shine and rain at once:—her Smiles and Tears(44) ^note

Were like a wetter May. Those happiest smiles,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her Eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropt.—In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd,
If all could so become it.

Kent.
Made she no verbal question?

Gent.
Yes, once, or twice, she heav'd the Name of Father
Pantingly forth, as if it prest her heart.
Cry'd, sisters! sisters!—Shame of Ladies! sisters!
Kent! Father! Sisters! what? i'th' storm? i'th' night?
Let Pity ne'er believe it!—there she shook
The holy water from her heav'nly Eyes;
And, Clamour-motion'd, then away she started(45) ^note

To deal with grief alone.

Kent.
—It is the Stars,
The Stars above us, govern our conditions:
Else one self-mate and mate could not beget
Such diff'rent issues. Spoke you with her since?

Gent.
No.

Kent.
Was this before the King return'd?

Gent.
No, since.

Kent.
Well, Sir; the poor distressed Lear's in town;
Who sometimes, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about; and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter.

Gent.
Why, good Sir?

Kent.
A sov'reign shame so bows him; his unkindness,
That stript her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters; These things sting him
So venomously, that burning shame detains him
From his Cordelia.

Gent.
Alack, poor gentleman!

Kent.
Of Albany's, and Cornwall's Pow'rs you heard not?

Gent.
'Tis so, they are a-foot.

Kent.
Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause
Will in Concealment wrap me up awhile:
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me. [Exeunt.

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