SCENE, the Duke of Albany's Palace.

Enter Gonerill, and Steward.

Gon. My father ftrike my gentleman?
Stew. Ay, madam.

Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me; I'll not endure it :

His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
On ev'ry trifle. When he returns from hunting,
I will not speak with him; fay, I am fick.
If you come flack of former fervices,

You fhall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.

Stew. I understand, and will obey you, madam. Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your fellows: I'd have it come to question. If he distaste it, let him to my fifter,

Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-rul'd: idle old Man,

That ftill would manage those authorities,
That he hath given away. -

Remember what I've faid.

Stew. Very well, madam.

Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among you what grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows fo: I'll write ftrait to my fifter to hold my courfe: away! [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to an open Place before the Palace. Enter Kent difguis'd.

Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, And can my speech diffuse, my good intent May carry thro' itself to that full iffue,

For which I raz'd my likeness. Now banish'd

Kent,

If thou canft serve where thou doft stand condemn'd, So may it come, thy mafter, whom thou lov'ft, Shall find thee full of labours.

Enter

Enter Lear, Knights and Attendants.

Lear. Let me not ftay a jot for dinner, go, get it ready: how now, what art thou?

Kent. A mån, fir.

[To Kent.

Lear. What doft thou profess? what would'st thou with us?

Kent. I do profefs to be no less than I feem; to ferve him truly, that will put me in truft; to love him that is honeft; to converfe with him that is wife, and fays little; to fight when I cannot chufe, and to eat no fish.

Lear. What art thou?

Kent. A very honeft-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.

Lear. If thou beeft as poor for a fubject, as he is for a king, thou art poor enough. What would'st

thou?

Kent. Service.

Lear. Whom would't thou ferve?

Kent. You.

Lear. Doft thou know me, fellow?

Kent. No, fir; but you have that in your counrenance, which I would fain call master.

Lear. What's that?

Kent. Authority.

Lear. What services canft thou do?

Kent. I can keep honeft counfels, ride, run, marr a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain meffage bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in; and the beft of me is diligence.

Lear. How old art thou?

Kent. Not fo young, fir, to love a woman for finging; nor fo old, to doat on her for any thing. I have years on my back forty-eight.

Lear. Follow me, thou fhalt ferve me.

Enter

Enter Steward.

You, you, firrah, where's my daughter?
Stew. So please you-

[Exit.

Lear. What fays the fellow there? call the clotpole back.

Knight. He fays, my lord, your daughter is not well.

Lear. Why came not the flave back to me when I call'd him?

Knight. Sir, he answer'd me in the roundest manner, he would not.

Lear. He would not?

Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my judgment, your highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection as you were

wont.

Lear. Ha! fay'ft thou fo?

Knight. I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be filent, when I think your highness is wrong'd.

Lear. Thou but remember'ft me of my own conception. I have perceiv'd a moft faint neglect of late; I will look further into't. Go you and tell my daughter, I would fpeak with her.

Enter Steward.

O, you, fir, come you hither, fir; who am I, fir? Stew. My lady's father.

Lear. My lady's father? my lord's knave!

Stew. I am none of thefe, my lord; I befeech your pardon.

Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, rascal?

Stew, I'll not be struck, my lord?

player.

[Striking him.

Kent. Nor tript neither, you bafe foot-ball [Tripping up his heels. Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou ferv'ft me, and I'll love thee.

Kent. Come, fir, arife, away.

[Pushes the Steward out.

To them, Enter Gonerill.

Lear. How now, daughter, what makes that frontlet on? you are too much of late i'th'frown. Gon. Your infolent retinue, fir,

Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth
In rank and not to be endured riots.

I thought by making this well known unto you,
T'have found a fafe redrefs; but now grow fearful,
That you protect this courfe, and put it on
By your allowance; if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape cenfure, nor the redreffes fleep.
Lear. Are you our daughter?

Gon. I would, you would make use of your good wisdom,

Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away These difpofitions, which of late transport you From what you rightly are.

Lear. Does any here know me? this is not Lear: Does Lear walk thus? fpeak thus? where are his eyes?

Either his notion weakens, his difcernings

Are lethargied-Ha! waking ?-'tis not fo;
Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Your name, fair gentlewoman?

Gon. This admiration, fir, is much o'th'favour
Of other your new humours. I beseech you,
To understand my purposes aright.

You, as you're old and reverend, should be wife.
Here do you keep a hundred knights and fquires,
Men fo disorder'd, fo debauch'd and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shews like a riotous inn. Be then defir'd
By her, that elfe will take the thing the begs,
Of fifty to difquantity your train;

And the remainders,

To be fuch men as may befort your age,

And know themselves and you.

Lear. Darknefs and devils!

Saddle

Saddle my horfes, call my train together.
Degen'rate viper! I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter.

Gon. You ftrike my people, and your disorder'd rabble

Make fervants of their betters.

To them, Enter Albany.

Lear. Woe! that too late repents.-O, fir, are

you come ?

Is it your will? fpeak, fir.

Prepare my horfes.

[To Alb.

Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,

More hideous when thou fhew'ft thee in a child,

Than the fea-monster.

Alb. Pray, fir, be patient.

Lear. Detefted kite! thou lieft.

[To Gonerill.

My train are men of choice and rareft parts,

That all particulars of duty know.

O most small fault!

How ugly didst thou in Cordelia fhew!

Which, like an engine, wrencht my frame of nature
From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in,

[Striking his bead. And thy dear judgment out.-Go, go, my people. Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this?

Gon. Never afflict yourself to know of it; But let his difpofition have that scope,

That dotage gives it.

Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap?
Alb. What's the matter, fir?

Lear. I tell thee-life and death! I am afham'd, That thou haft power to shake my manhood thus

[To Gon.

That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them.-blafts and fogs

upon thee!