Then they for sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peep, [Singing. Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a school-master that can teach thy fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie. Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters are : they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt have me whipped for lying; and, sometimes, I am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind of thing, than a fool: and yet I would not be thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o'both sides, and left nothing in the 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. Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou had'st no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool, thou art nothing.-Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face [To GoN.] bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, He that keeps nor crust nor crum, That's a shealed peascod. [Pointing to LEAr. Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool, But other of your insolent retinue, Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth 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. Come, sir, I would, you would make use of that 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. Lear. Does any here know me?-Why this is not Lear: does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or his discernings are lethargied. Sleeping or waking?-Ha! sure 'tis not so.-Who is it that can tell me who I am?-Lear's shadow? I would learn that; for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters. Fool. Which they will make an obedient father. Gon. Come, sir; This admiration is much o'the favour Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you As you are old and reverend, you should be wise: 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, Lear. Darkness and devils!— Saddle my horses; call my train together.- 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, are you come? Is it your will? [To ALB.] Speak, sir.-Prepare my horses. More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, Alb. Pray, sir, be patient. Lear. Detested kite! thou liest : [TO GONERIL. 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, Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, [Striking his Head. And thy dear judgment out!—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! Dry up in her the organs of increase; To have a thankless child!-Away, away! [Exit. Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this? But let his disposition have that scope, That dotage gives it. Re-enter LEAR. Lear. What, fifty of my followers, at a clap! Within a fortnight? Alb. What's the matter, sir? Lear. I'll tell thee;-Life and death! I am asham'd, That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus: [To GONERIL. That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them.-Blasts and fogs upon thee! The untented woundings of a father's curse 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. |