Lea.
Attend the lords ^note of France and Burgundy, Gloster.

Glo.
I shall, my liege. ^note [Exeunt Glo. and Edm.

Lea.
Mean time we shall express ^note our darker purpose. ^note
The map † there. ^note—Know, that ^note we have divided,
In three, our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent ^note
To shake all cares and business from our age; ^note
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we ^note
Unburthen'd crawl toward death.—Our son of Cornwal,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, ^note France and Burgundy,
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's ^note love,

Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd.—Tell me, my daughters,
(Since now we will divest us, both of rule, ^note
Interest of territory, cares of state,) ^note
Which of you shall we say doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where merit doth most challenge it. ^note—Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.

Gon.
Sir, I do love you14Q1308
Far more than words ^note can wield the matter: ^note love you
Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty; ^note
Beyond what can be valu'd, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour:
As much as child ^note e'er lov'd, or father found. ^note
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

&clquo;Cor.
&clquo;What shall Cordelia do? ^note Love, and be silent.&crquo;

Lea.
Of all these † bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with ^note champaigns rich'd,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's issue ^note
Be this perpetual.—What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwal ^note? Speak. ^note

Reg.
I am made of that self metal as my sister ^note,
And prize me at her worth. In my ^note true heart
I find, she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short: ^note that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys,
Which the most precious square of sense possesses; ^note
And find, I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness' love.

&clquo;Cor.
&clquo;Then poor Cordelia!&crquo;

&clquo;And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's&crquo;
&clquo;More richer than my ^note tongue.&crquo;

Lea.
To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third † of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that confer'd on Goneril.—Now ^note, our joy,14Q1309
Although the last, not least in our dear love, ^note
What can you say, to win a third more opulent
Than your two sisters?

Cor.
Nothing, my lord. ^note

Lea.
How!

Cor.
Nothing.

Lea.
Nothing can come ^note of nothing: speak again.

Cor.
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more ^note, nor less.

Lea.
Go to, go to; mend ^note me your speech a little,
Lest it may ^note mar your fortunes.

Cor.
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: I
Retnrn ^note those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say,
They love you, all? Haply ^note, when I shall wed,
That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care, and duty:
Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all. ^note

Lea.
But goes thy heart with this? ^note

Cor.
Ay, my good ^note lord.

Lea.
So young, and so untender?

Cor.
So young, my lord, and true.

Lea.
Let it ^note be so,—Thy truth then be thy dower:
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun;
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night; ^note
By all the operations ^note of the orbs,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom ^note
Be as well neighbour'd, pity'd, and reliev'd,
As thou my sometime daughter.

Ken.
Good my liege,—

Lea.
Peace, Kent;
Come not between the dragon and his wrath:
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.—Hence, and avoid my sight!—
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father's heart from her.—Call France; Who stirs?
Call Burgundy.—[Exit an Att.] Cornwal, and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers ^note digest this † third:
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my ^note power,
Preheminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,
With reservation of an hundred knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns. Only we retain ^note14Q1310
The name; the additions to a king, the sway,
Revenue, execution, and the rest,
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,

This coronet &dagger2; part between you. ^note

Ken.
Royal Lear, [in Action of preventing him.
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron ^note thought on in my prayers,—

Lea.
The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.

Ken.
Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad. ^note What would'st thou ^note do, old man?
Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak,
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,
When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; ^note
And, in thy best consideration, check
This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound
Reverbs ^note no hollowness.

Lea.
Kent, on thy life, no more.

Ken.
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thy enemies; nor fear ^note to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive. ^note

Lea.
Out of my sight!

Ken.
See better, Lear; and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.

Lea.
Now, by Apollo,—

Ken.
Now, by Apollo! King, thou swear'st thy gods in vain.

Lea.
O, vassal! miscreant! ^note [in Action of drawing his Sword.

Alb. Corⁿ.
Dear sir, forbear. ^note [interposing.

Ken.
Do; ^note Kill thy physician, and the fee ^note bestow
Upon thy foul ^note disease. Revoke thy gift; ^note

Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee, thou dost evil.

Lea.
Hear me, recreant;
On thine allegiance ^note, hear me!—
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, ^note
(Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd pride, ^note
To come between ^note our sentence ^note and our power,
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,)
Our potency made good, ^note14Q1311 take thy reward.
Five days ^note we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from disasters of ^note the world;
And, on the sixth, to ^note turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom: if, on the ^note tenth day following,
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death: Away! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revok'd.

Ken.
Fare ^note thee well, king: sith thus ^note thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives ^note hence, and banishment is here.—
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, ^note
That justly think'st, and hast most rightly ^note said!—
And, you, large speechers ^note, may your deeds approve
That good effects may spring from words of love.—
Thus Kent, o princes, bids you all adieu;
He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. Re-enter Gloster, with France, Burgundy, and Attendants.

Glo.
Here's ^note France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

Lea.
My lord of Burgundy,
We first address towards ^note you, who with this king ^note
Hath rival'd for our daughter; What, in the least,
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?

Bur.
Most ^note royal majesty,
I crave no more than hath your ^note highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less.

Lea.
Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her ^note so;14Q1312
But now her price is fall'n: Sir, there she stands;
If ought within that little, seeming, substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd,
And nothing more, may ^note fitly like your grace,
She's there, and she is yours.

Bur.
I know no answer.

Lea.
Sir, ^note Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dower'd with ^note our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?

Bur.
Pardon me, royal sir,
Election makes not up on such ^note conditions.

Lea.
Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
I tell you all her wealth.—For you, great king,
I would not from your love make such a stray,
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
To avert your liking a more worthier way,
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd
Almost to acknowledge hers.

Fra.
This is most strange!
That she, who even ^note but now was your best object, ^note
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
The best, the dearest; ^note should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour! Sure, her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree,
That monsters it: or your fore-vouch'd affection ^note

Fall'n into ^note taint: which to believe of her,
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle
Could ^note never plant in me.

Cor.
I yet beseech your majesty,
(If for I want14Q1313 that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend ^note,
I'll do't before I speak) that you make known ^note,
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchast action ^note, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour:
But even the want ^note of that, for which I am richer; ^note
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
As I ^note am glad I have not, though, not to have it,
Hath lost me in your liking.

Lea.
Better ^note thou had'st not been born,
Than not to have pleas'd me better.

Fra.
Is it but ^note this? a tardiness in nature,
Which often ^note leaves the history unspoke,
That it intends to do?—My lord of Bungundy, ^note
What say you to the lady? Love's not love,
When it is mingl'd with regards, ^note and stands ^note
Aloof from the entire point: Say, will you have her?
She is herself a dowry. ^note

Bur.
Royal Lear, ^note
Give but that portion which yourself propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Dutchess of Burgundy.

Lea.
Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm. ^note

Bur.
I am sorry then, you have so lost a father,
That you must lose a husband.

Cor.
Peace be with Burgundy!
Since that respects of fortune ^note are his love,

I shall not be his wife.

Fra.
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away.
Gods, gods! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st ^note neglect
My love should kindle to inflam'd respect.—
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, ^note
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the dukes of wat'rish ^note Burgundy
Can buy ^note this unpriz'd precious maid of me.—
Bid them farewel, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here, a better where to find.

Lea.
Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again:—Therefore be gone,
Without our grace, our love, our benizon.—
Come, noble Burgundy. [Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, Cornwal, Albany, Gloster, and Attendants.

Fra.
Bid farewel to your sisters.

Cor.
Ye jewels ^note of our father, with wash'd eyes
Cordelia leaves you: I know what you ^note are;
And, like a sister, am most loth to call
Your faults as they are nam'd. Use well ^note our father:
To your professing ^note bosoms I commit him:
But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place.
So farewel to you both.

Gon.
Prescribe not us our duties. ^note

Reg.
Let ^note your study
Be, to content your lord; who hath receiv'd you

As fortune's ^note alms: You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth14Q1314 to want the worth that ^note you have wanted.

Cor.
Time shall unfold what plaited ^note cunning hides,
Who cover'd ^note faults at last with shame derides ^note.
Well may you prosper!

Fra.
Come, my ^note fair Cordelia. [Exeunt France, and Cordelia.

Gon.

Sister, it is not a little ^note I have to say, of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think, our father will hence to-night.

Reg.

That's most certain, and with you; next month with us.

Gon.

You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been ^note little: he always lov'd our sister most; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off, appears too grosly. ^note

Reg.

'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.

Gon.

The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look to receive from his age ^note not alone the imperfections ^note of long-ingrafted ^note condition, but, therewithal, the ^note unruly waywardness that infirm and cholerick years bring with them.

Reg.

Such unconstant starts ^note are we like to have from him, as this of Kent's banishment.

Gon.

There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you, let us sit together: ^note If our father carry authority, with such dispositions ^note as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.

Reg.

We shall further think on't. ^note

Gon.

We must do something, and i'the heat.

SCENE II. A Hall in the Earl of Gloster's Castle. Enter Edmund.

Edm.
Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound: Wherefore should I14Q1315
Stand in the plague of custom; and permit
The courtesy ^note of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in ^note the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality,
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, ^note
Go to the creating a ^note whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep ^note and wake?—Well then,
Legitimate ^note Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,
As to the legitimate: Fine word, legitimate! ^note
Well, my legitimate, if this † letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate ^{note note}. I grow; I prosper:—
Now, gods, stand up for bastards! Enter Gloster.

Glo.
Kent banish'd thus! And France in choler parted!
And the king gone to-night! subscrib'd his ^note power!14Q1316
Confin'd to exhibition! All this done ^note
Upon the gad!—Edmund! How now? What news?

Edm.

So please your lordship, none.

Glo.

Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

Edm.

I know no news, my lord.

Glo.

What paper were you reading?

Edm.

Nothing, my lord.

Glo.

No? What needed then ^note that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see: Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

Edm.

I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter from my brother, that I have not all o'er read; for ^note so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o'er-looking. ^note

Glo.

Give me the letter, sir.

Edm.

I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.

Glo.

Let's see, let's see.

Edm.

I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.

Glo. [reads]

This policy, and reverence ^note of age, makes the world bitter to the best ^note of our times; keeps our fortunes from us, 'till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny; which sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep 'till I wak'd him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother

Edgar.

Hum—Conspiracy!—Sleep 'till ^note I wak'd him, ^note—you should enjoy half his revenue.—My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain ^note to breed it in?—When came this to you? ^note Who brought it?

Edm.

It was not brought me, my lord, there's the cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.

Glo.

You know the character to be your brother's?

Edm.

If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.

Glo.

It is his ^note.

Edm.

It is his hand, my lord; but, ^note I hope, his heart is not in the contents.

Glo.

Hath he never heretofore ^note sounded you in this business?

Edm.

Never, my lord: But I have heard him oft ^note maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, ^note the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. ^note

Glo.

O villain, villain!—His very opinion in the letter!—Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain; worse than brutish!—Go, sirrah, seek him; I'll apprehend ^note him:—Abominable villain!—Where is he?

Edm.

I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother, 'till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, ^note you should run ^note a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own ^note honour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him, that ^note he hath writ this ^note to feel my affection to your honour, and to no other pretence ^note of danger.

Glo.

Think you so?

Edm.

If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and that without any further delay than this very evening.

Glo.

He cannot be such a monster.

Edm.

Nor is not, sure. ^note

Glo.

To his father, that so tenderly and intirely loves him. Heaven and earth!—Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray you: frame the business ^note after your own wisdom: I would unstate14Q1317 myself, to be in a due resolution.

Edm.

I will seek ^note him, sir, presently; convey the business as I shall find means, ^note and acquaint you withal.

Glo.

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us: Though the wisdom of nature can reason it ^note thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourg'd by the sequent effects: love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and ^note the bond crack'd between son ^note and father. This villain ^note of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father: the king falls from byas of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best of our time: Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves.—Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully:—And the noble and true-hearted Kent banish'd! his offence, honesty! ^note Strange, strange! ^note

Edm.

This is the excellent foppery of the world! that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of ^note our own behaviour) we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars: ^note as if we were villains on necessity ^note; fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and trechers, by spherical predominance ^note; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforc'd obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by

a divine thrusting on: An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of stars! ^note My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail; and my nativity was under ursa major; so that it follows, I am rough and letcherous:—I should ^note have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the ^note firmament twinkl'd on my bastardizing. ^note

&clquo;Edgar! ^note Pat;14Q1318 He comes ^note like the catastrophe of the old comedy: My cue is ^note villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. ^note O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! ^note&crquo;

Edg.

How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation are you in?

Edm.

I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

Edg.

Do you busy yourself with that? ^note

Edm.

I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily. ^note When saw you my father last?

Edg.

The ^note night gone by.

Edm.

Spake you with him?

Edg.

Ay, ^note two hours together.

Edm.

Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him, by word, or countenance ^note?

Edg.

None at all.

Edm.

Bethink yourself, wherein you may have offended him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence, 'till some ^note little time hath qualify'd the heat of his displeasure; ^note which at this instant so rageth in him, that without the ^note14Q1319 mischief of your person ^note it would scarcely allay.

Edg.

Some villain hath done me wrong.

Edm.

That's my fear. I pray you ^note have a continent

forbearance, 'till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak: Pray you, go; there's my &dagger2; key:—If you do stir abroad, go arm'd.

Edg.

Arm'd, brother?

Edm.

Brother, I advise you to the best; go arm'd; ^note I am no honest man, if there be any good meaning towards you: I have told you what I have seen and heard, but faintly; nothing like the image and horror of it: Pray you, away.

Edg.

Shall I hear from you anon?

Edm.
I do serve you in this business.— [Exit Edgar.
A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty
My practises ride easy!—I see the business.—
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:
All with me's meet, that I can fashion fit. [Exit Edmund. SCENE III. A Room in the Duke of Albany's Palace. Enter Goneril, and Steward. ^note

Gon.

Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?

Ste.
Ay, madam. ^note

Gon.
By day and night! he wrongs me; every hour
He flashes into one gross crime or other,
That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids ^note us
On every trifle:—When he returns from hunting,

I will not speak with him; say, I am sick:—
If you come slack of former services,
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. [Horns within.

Ste.
He's coming, madam; I hear him.

Gon.
Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question: ^note—
If he dislike it, ^note let him to my sister, ^note
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-rul'd. Idle old man, ^note
That still would manage those authorities
That he hath given away! Now, by my life,14Q1320
Old fools are babes again; and must be us'd
With checks, not flatteries ^note when they are seen abus'd.
Remember what I ^note have said.

Ste.
Very ^note well, madam.

Gon.
And let his knights have colder looks among you;
What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so:
I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, ^note
That I may speak:—I'll write straight to my sister,
To hold my very ^note course:—Prepare ^note for dinner. [Exeunt severally. SCENE IV. An outer Hall in the same. Enter Kent, disguis'd.

Ken.
If but as well14Q1321 I ^note other accents borrow,
That can my speech deface, ^note my good intent
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I raz'd ^note my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou can'st serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
(So may it come! ^note) thy master, whom thou lov'st,

Shall find thee full of labours. ^note [Horns. Enter Lear, Gentleman,14Q1322 Knights, and Attendants.

Lea.

Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go, get it ready.

How now, what art thou?

Ken.

A man, sir.

Lea.

What dost thou profess? What would'st thou with us?

Ken.

I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly, that will put me in trust; to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight, when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.

Lea.

What art thou? ^note

Ken.

A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.

Lea.

If thou be as ^note poor for a subject, as he is for a king, thou art poor enough. What would'st thou?

Ken.

Service.

Lea.

Whom would'st ^note thou serve?

Ken.

You.

Lea.

Dost thou know me, fellow?

Ken.

No, sir; but you have that in your countenance, which I would fain call master.

Lea.

What's that?

Ken.

Authority.

Lea.

What services can'st thou ^note do?

Ken.

I can keep honest counsel, ^note ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualify'd in; and the best of me is diligence.

Lea.

How old art thou?

Ken.

Not so young, sir, ^note to love a woman for singing;

nor so old, to dote on her for any thing: I have years on my back forty eight.

Lea.

Follow me; thou shalt ^note serve me; if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet.— Dinner, ho, dinner!—Where's my knave, my fool? Go you, [to an Attendant.] and call my fool hither:—

You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?

Ste.

So please you,—

Lea.

What says the fellow there? Call the clot-pole back.—Where's my fool? Ho, I think the world's asleep.—How now, where's that mungrel?

Gen.

He says ^note, my lord, your daughter ^note is not well.

Lea.

Why came not the slave back to me, when I call'd him?

Gen.

Sir, he ^note answer'd me in the roundest manner, he would not.

Lea.

He would ^note not!

Gen.

My lord, I know not what the matter is, but, to my judgment, your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a great abatement appears ^note, as well in the general dependants, as in the duke himself also, and your daughter.

Lea.

Ha! say'st thou so?

Gen.

I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent, when I think your highness is ^note wrong'd.

Lea.

Thou but remember'st me of mine own conception: I have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity, than as a very pretence and purpose of ^note unkindness: I will look further into't. ^note—But where's my fool? ^note

I have not seen him this two ^note days.

Gen.

Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away.

Lea.

No more of that; I have noted it.—Go ^note you, [to one Attendant.] and tell my daughter, I would speak with her.—Go you, [to another] call hither my fool.—O, Re-enter Steward, brought back by an Attendant. you sir, you sir, come you hither: Who ^note am I, sir?

Ste.

My lady's father.

Lea.

My lady's father! my lord's knave: You whorson dog! you slave! you cur!

Ste.

I am none of this, my lord; I beseech you, pardon me. ^note

Lea.

Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

Ste.

I'll not be struck ^note, my lord.

Ken.

Nor tript neither; you base football-player.

Lea.

I thank thee, fellow; thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee.

Ken.

Come, sir, arise, away; ^note I'll teach you differences; away, away: If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry: but away: go to; Have you wisdom ^note? so ^note.

Lea.

Now, my ^note friendly knave, I thank thee: there's ^note earnest of thy service.

Foo.

Let me hire him too;—Here's my coxcomb.

Lea.

How now, my pretty knave? how dost thou?

Foo.

Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

Ken.

Why, fool? ^note

Foo.

Why? For taking one's part that's out of favour: Nay, an thou can'st not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb: Why, this fellow has banish'd ^note two on's ^note daughters, and did the ^note third a blessing against his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.—How now, nuncle?14Q1323 'Would I had two coxcombs, and two daughters!

Lea.

Why, my boy?

Foo.

If I gave them all my living, ^note I'd keep my coxcombs ^note myself: There's † mine; beg another of thy daughters.

Lea.

Take heed, sirrah; the whip.

Foo.

Truth's a dog must ^note to kennel; he must be whipt out, when the lady brach ^note may stand by the fire and stink.

Lea.

A pestilent gall ^note to me!

Foo.

Sirrah, I'll14Q1324 teach thee a speech.

Ken.

Do. ^note

Foo.

Mark it, nuncle ^note:—

Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest,
Set less than thou throwest;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score.

Ken.

This is ^note nothing, fool.

Foo.

Then 'tis ^note like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you gave me nothing for't ^note:—Can you make no use of

nothing, nuncle? ^note

Lea.

Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.

Foo.

Pr'ythee, tell him, [to Kent] so much the rent of his land comes to; he will not believe a fool.

Lea.

A bitter fool!

Foo.

Dost thou ^note14Q1325 know the difference, nuncle, between ^note a bitter fool and a sweet fool?

Lea.

No, lad; teach me.

Foo.
That lord, that counsel'd thee ^note
  to give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,—
  or do thou for him stand:
The sweet and bitter fool
  will presently appear;
The one in motley here †,
  the other found out there †.

Lea.

Dost thou call me fool, boy?

Foo.

All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with.

Ken.

This is not altogether fool, my lord.

Foo.

No, 'faith, lords and great men will not let me; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't ^note: and ladies ^note too, they will not ^note let me have all fool ^note to myself; they'll be snatching.—Give me an egg, nuncle, ^note and I'll give thee two crowns.

Lea.

What two crowns shall they be?

Foo.

Why, after I have cut the egg i'th' middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown ^note in the middle ^note, and gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass ^note on thy back over the dirt: Thou had'st little wit in thy bald crown, when thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself

in this, let him be whipt that first finds it so.