Gon.
Do you mark that?

Alb.
I cannot be so partial, Gonerill,
To the great love I bear you.

Gon.
Pray you be content. What Oswald, ho!
You, Sir, more knave than fool, after your master.

Fool.
Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, take the fool with thee:
A Fox, when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter,
So the fool follows after. [Exit.

Gon.
This man hath had good counsel,—a hundred Knights!
'Tis politick and safe to let him keep
A hundred Knights; yes, that on ev'ry dream,
Each buz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their pow'rs,
And hold our lives at mercy. Oswald, I say.

Alb.
Well, you may fear too far;—

Gon.
Safer than trust too far.
Let me still take away the harms I fear,
Not fear still to be harm'd. I know his heart;
What he hath utter'd, I have writ my sister;

If she'll sustain him and his hundred Knights,
When I have shew'd th' unfitness— Enter Steward.
How now, Oswald?
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

Stew.
Ay, madam.

Gon.
Take you some company, away to horse,
Inform her full of my particular fears,
And thereto add such reasons of your own
As may compact it more. So get you gone,
And hasten your return. [Exit Steward.
—No, no my lord,
This milky gentleness and course of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet under pardon
You are much more at task for want of wisdom,
Than prais'd for harmless mildness.

Alb.
How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell;
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

Gon.
Nay then—

Alb.
Well, well, th' event. [Exeunt.

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