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

Kent.
Hail to thee, noble master!

Lear.
Ha! mak'st thou thy shame thy pastime?

Kent.
No, my lord.

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, while at their home
I did commend your highness' letters to them,
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 train, and strait took horse;
Commanding 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.

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

Kent.
With the Earl, sir, here within. Enter Glocester.

Lear.
Now Glo'ster! Glo. [Whispers Lear.]

Lear.
Ha! how's this?

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—

Lear.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
Fiery? what quality? why, Glocester, Glocester,
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
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. I will forbear,
Nor task the indispos'd and sickly fit
As the sound man.—Death on my state! but wherefore
Should he sit here? this act persuades 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.—Oh! are you come? Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Servants.

Corn.
Hail to your grace! [Kent is set at liberty.

Lear.
Good morrow both!
Oh me, my heart! my rising heart! but down!

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 adultress. 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 wholsome 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; 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 becometh us!
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg,
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.

Reg.
Good sir, no more; these are unsightly humours.
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
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart.
All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top!

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
Thee o'er to harshness. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words. 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.
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
Hallow obedience, if yourselves 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
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl;
Than have my smallest wants supplied by her.

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.
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:
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome.

Lear.
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 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.

Lear.
Oh, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heav'n!
Keep me in temper! I would not be mad!

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. 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 years; 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 unnat'ral 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:
This heart shall break into a thousand flaws,
Or ere I weep. O gods, I shall go mad! [Exeunt. END of the SECOND ACT.

Previous section