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.

Fool.

Nuncle, can'st tell how an oyster makes his shell?

Lear.

No. Ah, I did her wrong!—^{18 note}

Fool.

Nor I either; but I can tell why a snail has a house.

Lear.

Why?

Fool.

Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his daughters.

Lear.

I will forget my nature. So kind a father!

Fool.

If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I would have thee beaten for being old before thy time.

Lear.

How's that?

Fool.

Thou should'st not have been old, before thou had'st been wise.

Lear.
O, let me not be mad—not mad—sweet Heaven!
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!

Kent.
Hail to thee, noble master!

Lear.
How!
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?

Kent.
No, my lord.

Fool.
Ha, ha; look! he wears cruel garters!

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.
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;
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 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, on whose contents,
They straight 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 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 fly that way.^{19 note}

(Singing.)
Fathers, that wear rags,
  Do make their children blind;
But father's, that bear bags,
  Shall see their children kind.

Lear.
O, how this mother(D)8Q0098 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.
Follow me not;
Stay here. [Exit.

Kent.
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.

(Singing.)
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.

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;
Bring me a better answer.

Glo.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke.

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 remotion^{20 note} of the duke and her
Is practice only.^{21 note} 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 the chamber door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry, Sleep to death.^{22 note}

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.
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,
Sepulch'ring an adultress. 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.

Reg.
I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.^{23 note}

Lear.
Say, how is that?

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

Lear.
Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:^{24 note}
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 (rising).
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!

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-hested nature^{25 note} shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness: thou better knowest
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o' the kingdom has thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.

Reg.
Good Sir, to the purpose. [Trumpets without.

Lear.
Who put my man i' the stocks?

Corn.
What trumpet's that? Enter Steward.

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

Lear.
This slave again?
Out, varlet, from my sight!

Corn.
What means your grace?

Lear.
Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know of't.—Who comes here? O heavens, Enter Goneril, attended.
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow^{26 note} obedience, if yourselves are old,
Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!—
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard? [To Goneril.
O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

Gon.
Why not by the hand, Sir? How have I offended?
All's not offence that indiscretion finds,^{27 note}
And dotage terms so.

Lear.
O, sides, you are too tough!

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 am 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 choose
To wage^{28 note} against the enmity o' the air;
To be a comrade with the wolf, and howl
Necessity's sharp pinch.

Gon.
At you choice, Sir.

Lear.
I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad;
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
We'll no more meet, no more see one another.
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 canst; be better at thy leisure;
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I, and my hundred knights.

Reg.
Not altogether so, Sir;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome.

Lear.
Is this well spoke now?

Reg.
What, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many?

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 you,
We could control them: If you will come to me
(For now I spy a danger), I entreat 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.

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 need one?

Lear.
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest things superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's. But for true need,
You heavens, give me that patience, patience 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!
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks!—No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both
That all the world shall—I will do such things—
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep—
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,^{29 note}
Or ere I'll weep:—O, fool, I shall go mad! [Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Fool. Storm heard at a distance. END OF ACT SECOND.

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