That you protect this course, and put it on,
By your allowance; which if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence,
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding.

Fool. For you trow, nuncle,

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its young.

So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
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 dispositions, which of late transform you

From what you rightly are.

Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee.

Why this is not Lear: Where are his eyes? Either Sleeping

Lear. Does any here know me? does Lear walk thus? speak thus? his notion weakens, or his discernings are lethargied. Ha! sure 't is not so. Who is it that can tell me Lear's shadow? I would learn that; for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters.

or waking? who I am?

-

Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.
Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman?

Gon. This admiration, Sir, is much o' the favour

Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you

To understand my purposes aright,

As you are old and reverend, should be wise.
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern, or a brothel,

Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak

For instant remedy: be, then, desir'd

By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
A little to disquantity your train;

And the remainder, that shall still depend,

To be such men as may besort your age,
Which know themselves and you.

Lear.

Darkness and devils! —

Saddle my horses; call my train together.
Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee:
Yet have I left a daughter.

Gon. You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters.

Enter ALBANY.

Lear. Woe, that too late repents,

O, Sir! [TO ALB.]

are you come?

Prepare my horses.

Is it your will? Speak, Sir.

Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,

More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,

Than the sea-monster!

Alb.

Pray, Sir, be patient.

[To GONERIL.

Lear. Detested kite! thou liest:

My train are men of choice and rarest parts,

That all particulars of duty know,

And in the most exact regard support

The worships of their name.

O, most small fault!

How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show,

Which, like an engine, wrench'd 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,

And thy dear judgment out!

[Striking his head.

Go, go, my people.
Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath mov'd you.

Lear.
It may be so, my lord. -
Hear, nature, hear! dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend

To make this creature fruitful!
Into her womb convey sterility!
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her!
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child! - Away! away!

Alb. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?
Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause;

But let his disposition have that scope

That dotage gives it.

Re-enter LEAar.

Lear. What! fifty of my followers, at a clap,

Within a fortnight?

Alb.

What's the matter, Sir?

Lear. I'll tell thee.

[Exit.

Life and death! [To GONERIL.] I am

ashamed,

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

Pierce every sense about thee! — Old fond eyes,

Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out,
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay. - Ha!

Let it be so : - I have another daughter,

Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable:

When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She 'll flay thy wolfish visage. Thou shalt find,
That I'll resume the shape, which thou dost think

I have cast off for ever. [Exeunt LEAR, KENT, and Attendants.

Gon. Do you mark that, my lord?
Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,

To the great love I bear you,

Gon. Pray you, content.

What, Oswald, ho!

You, Sir, more knave than fool, after your master.

[To the Fool. Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear! tarry, and 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 politic, and safe, to let him keep

At point a hundred knights: yes, that on every dream,

Each buz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,

He may enguard his dotage with their powers,

Oswald, I say!

And hold our lives in mercy.
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 taken: I know his heart.
What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister:
If she sustain him and his hundred knights,

When I have show'd th' unfitness, how now, Oswald!

Re-enter OsWALD.

What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

Osw. Ay, Madam.

Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse: Inform her full of my particular fear;

And thereto add such reasons of your own,

As may compact it more. Get you gone,

And hasten your return. [Exit Osw.] No, no, my lord,
This milky gentleness, and course of yours,

Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,

You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom,
Than prais'd for harmful 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; the event.

SCENE V.

Court before the Same.

Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool.

[Exeunt.

Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these letters. Acquaint my daughter no farther with any thing you know, than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there before you.

Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter. [Exit. Fool. If a man's brains were in 's heels, were 't not in danger of kibes?

Lear. Ay, boy.

Fool. Then, I pr'ythee, be merry; thy wit shall not go slipshod.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha!

Fool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though she's as like this, as a crab is like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

Lear. What canst tell, boy?

Fool. She will taste as like this, as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' the middle on 's face.

Fool. Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.

Lear. I did her wrong.

Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?

Lear. No.

Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.
Lear. Why?