Kent. This is nothing, fool. Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you gave me nothing for 't. I would not be thee, nuncle: thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i' th' middle. Here comes one o' the parings. Enter GONEril. Lear. How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on? Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool, But other of your insolent retìǹue Do hourly carp and quarrel ; breaking forth In rank and not-to-be-endurèd riots. Sir, I had thought, by making this well-known unto you, Fool. For, you trow, nuncle, The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, So out went the candle, and we were left darkling. Gon. I would you would make use of your good wisdom, Whereof I know you're fraught; and put away These dispositions, that of late transform you Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse?— Whoop, Jug! I love thee. Lear. Doth any here know me ?—Why, this is not Lear: Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? Who is it that can tell me who I am? Fool. Lear's shadow. Lear. I would learn that; for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters. Your name, fair gentlewoman? Gon. This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour As you are old and rev'rend, you should be wise. That this our court, infected with their manners, Be, then, desir'd By her, that else will take the thing she begs, And the remainder, that shall depend, To be such men as may besort your age, Lear. Darkness and devils!- Saddle my horses; call my train together.- Yet have I left a daughter. Woe, that too late repents, O, sir, are you come? [Enter ALBANY. Is it your will? Speak, sir.-Prepare my horses. Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child Alb. Pray, sir, be patient. Lear. [To GONERIL.] Detested kite! thou liest: My train are men of choice and rarest parts, That all particulars of duty know, The worships of their name.-O most small fault, Which like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature [Striking his head. And thy dear judgment out!-Go, go, my pecple. Alb. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? Lear. I'll tell thee,-[To GONERIL.] Life and death! I am asham'd That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ; That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them.-Blasts and fogs upon thee! Th' untented woundings of a father's curse Alb. My lord, I'm guiltless, as I'm ignorant Of what hath mov'd you. Lear. It may be so, my lord. Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! To make this creature fruitful! Dry up in her the organs of increase; ACT II. SCENE I.-A Court within GLOSTER's Castle. Enter EDMUND and CURAN, meeting. Edmund. AVE thee, Curan. Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him this night. Edm. How comes that? Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward 'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany? Edm. Not a word. Cur. You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. [Exit. Edm. The duke be here to-night? The better! best! This weaves itself perforce into my business. Enter EDGAR. My father watches:-O sir, fly this place; |