Lear.
Deny to speak with me? they're sick, they're weary,
They have travell'd all the night? meer 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,
How unremoveable and fixt he is
In his own course.

Lear.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
Fiery? what fiery quality? why Glo'ster,

I'd speak with th' 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, ^{h note}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're not our selves,
When nature being opprest commands the mind
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear,
And am fall'n out with my more heady will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit,
For the sound man.—Death on my state! but wherefore
Should he sit here? this act perswades 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.

Glo.
I would have all well betwixt you. [Exit.

Lear.
Oh me, my heart! my rising heart! but down.

Fool.

Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the Eels, when he put them i'th' Pasty alive; he rapt 'em o'th' coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd down wantons, down; 'Twas his brother, that in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay.

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