SCENE XIV.
To them, Enter Gonerill.
Lear.
How now, daughter, what makes that frontlet
on? You are too much of late i'th'frown.
Fool.
Thou wast 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, forsooth, I will
hold my tongue; [To Gonerill.] so your face bids me,
tho' you say nothing.
Mum, mum, He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
[Singing.
Weary of all, shall want some.
That's a sheal'd peascod.
[Pointing to Lear.
Gon.
Not only, Sir, thus your all-licens'd fool,
But others of your insolent retinue,
Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth
In the rank and not to be endured riots.
I thought, by making this well known unto you,
T' have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,
By what yourself too late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on
By your allowance; if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence,
-- 39 --
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding.
Fool.
For you know, nuncle,
The hedge sparrow fed the Cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its Young.
So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
Lear.
Are you our daughter?
Gon.
I would, you would make use of your good wisdom,
Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away
These dispositions, which of late transport you
From what you rightly are.
Fool.
May not an Ass know when the cart draws
the horse? * noteWhoop, 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 discernings
Are lethargy'd—Ha! waking?—'tis not so.
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
9 note
Fool.
Lear's shadow.
-- 40 --
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're old and reverend, should be wise.
Here do you keep a hundred Knights and Squires,
Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd and bold,
That this our Court, infected with their manners,
Shews like a riotous Inn; Epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel,
Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy. Be then desir'd
By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
1 noteOf fifty to disquantity your train;
And the remainders, 2 notethat shall still depend,
To be such men as may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.
Lear.
Darkness and devils!
Saddle my horses, call my train together.
—Degen'rate bastard! I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter.
Gon.
You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
