Ere I was risen from the place that show’d
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew’d in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress salutations;
Deliver’d letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summon’d up their meiny, straight took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceived, had poison’d mine,–
Being the very fellow that of late
Display’d so saucily against your highness,–
Having more man than wit about me, drew:
He raised the house with loud and coward cries.
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.
Fool Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind;
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne’er turns the key to the poor.
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours
for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
KING LEAR O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow,
Thy element’s below! Where is this daughter?
KENT With the earl, sir, here within.
KING LEAR Follow me not;
Stay here.
Exit
Gentleman Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
KENT None.
How chance the king comes with so small a train?
Fool And 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,
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
KENT Where learned you this, fool?
Fool Not i’ the stocks, fool.
Re-enter KING LEAR with GLOUCESTER
KING LEAR Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
They have travell’d all the night? Mere fetches;
The images of revolt and flying off.
Fetch me a better answer.
GLOUCESTER My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremoveable and fix’d he is
In his own course.
KING LEAR Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
I’ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
GLOUCESTER Well, my good lord, I have inform’d them so.
KING LEAR Inform’d them! Dost thou understand me, man?
GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord.
KING 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!
Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that–
No, but not yet: may be he is not well:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office
Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves
When nature, being oppress’d, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: I’ll forbear;
And am fall’n out with my more headier will,
To take the indisposed and sickly fit
For the sound man. Death on my state! wherefore
Looking on KENT
Should he sit here? This act persuades me
That this remotion of the duke and her
Is practise only. Give me my servant forth.
Go tell the duke and ‘s wife I’ld speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber-door I’ll beat the drum
Till it cry sleep to death.
GLOUCESTER I would have all well betwixt you.
Exit
KING 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 ’em i’ the paste alive; she knapped ’em
o’ the coxcombs with a stick, and cried ‘Down,
wantons, down!’ ‘Twas her brother that, in pure
kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.
Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants
KING LEAR Good morrow to you both.
CORNWALL Hail to your grace!
KENT is set at liberty
REGAN I am glad to see your highness.
KING LEAR Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother’s tomb,
Sepulchring an adultress.
To KENT
O, are you free?
Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
Thy sister’s naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth’d unkindness, like a vulture, here:
Points to his heart
I can scarce speak to thee; thou’lt not believe
With how depraved a quality–O Regan!
REGAN I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope.
You less know how to value her desert
Than she to scant her duty.
KING LEAR Say, how is that?
REGAN I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance
She have restrain’d the riots of your followers,
‘Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.
KING LEAR My curses on her!
REGAN O, sir, you are old.
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be ruled and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wrong’d her, sir.
KING LEAR Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
‘Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Kneeling
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg
That you’ll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.’
REGAN Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks:
Return you to my sister.
KING LEAR [Rising]
Never, Regan:
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look’d black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:
All the stored vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!
CORNWALL Fie, sir, fie!
KING 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!
REGAN O the blest gods! so will you wish on me,
When the rash mood is on.
KING LEAR No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse:
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
Thee o’er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; but thine
Do comfort and not burn. ‘Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And in conclusion to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in: thou better know’st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o’ the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow’d.
REGAN Good sir, to the purpose.
KING LEAR Who put my man i’ the stocks?
Tucket within
CORNWALL What trumpet’s that?
REGAN I know’t, my sister’s: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.
Enter OSWALD
Is your lady come?
KING LEAR This is a slave, whose easy-borrow’d pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
Out, varlet, from my sight!
CORNWALL What means your grace?
KING 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!
To GONERIL
Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?
O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?
GONERIL Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?
All’s not offence that indiscretion finds
And dotage terms so.
KING LEAR O sides, you are too tough;
Will you yet hold? How came my man i’ the stocks?
CORNWALL I set him there, sir: but his own disorders
Deserved much less advancement.
KING LEAR You! did you?
REGAN I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me:
I am now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
KING LEAR Return to her, and fifty men dismiss’d?