Fool. Winter 's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. Do make their children blind; Ne'er turns the key to the poor. But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daugh ters, as thou canst tell in a year. Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! Thy element's below. - Where is this daughter? Lear. Stay here. Follow me not; [Exit. Gent. Made you no more offence than what you speak of? Kent. None. 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. Kent. Why, fool? Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there 's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him that 's stinking, Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it. 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. The knave turns fool that runs away, The fool no knave, perdy. 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, The images of revolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer. 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! Infirmity doth still neglect all office, Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves, When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind And am fallen out with my more headier will, To take the indispos'd and sickly fit For the sound man. Should he sit here? Death on my state! wherefore This act persuades me, That this remotion of the duke and her [Looking on Kent. Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. Or at their chamber door I 'll beat the drum, "Sleep to death." Till it cry I would have all well betwixt you. [Exit. Lear. O me! my heart, my rising heart! but, down. Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels, when she put them i' the paste alive; she rapp'd 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, "Down, wantons, down:" 't was her brother, that in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay. Enter CORNWAll, Regan, GLOSTER, and Servants. Corn. Hail to your grace! [KENT is set at liberty. Reg. I am glad to see your highness. (TO KENT. [Points to his Heart. I can scarce speak to thee: thou 'It not believe, 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 Lear. My curses on her! Reg. O, Sir! you are old; Nature in you stands on the very verge By some discretion, that discerns your state Say, you have wrong'd her, Sir. Lear. Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark how this becomes the house: "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." Lear. Never, Regan. She hath abated me of half my train; Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, All the stor❜d vengeances of heaven fall On her ungrateful top! Strike her young bones, Corn. Fie, Sir, fie! Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, To fall and blast her pride! 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: Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are ficrce; but thine Reg. Iknow't, my sister's: this approves her letter, That she would soon be here. - Is your lady come? Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. 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 on 't. - Who comes here? O heavens! Enter GONERIL. If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow 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. Gon. Why not by the hand, Sir? How have I offended? All's not offence, that indiscretion finds, And dotage terms so. Lear. Will you yet hold? O sides! you are too tough: How came my man i' the 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, To wage against the enmity o' the air; |