King Lear (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
294
The Tragedie of King Lear
¶They are sicke, they are weary,
¶They haue trauail'd all the night? meere fetches,
¶The images of reuolt and flying off.
1365Fetch me a better answer.
¶Glo. My deere Lord,
¶You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
¶How vnremoueable and fixt he is
¶In his owne course.
¶I'ld speake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife.
1375Glo. I my good Lord.
¶The deere Father
¶Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood:
1380Fiery? 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 our selues,
¶When Nature being opprest, commands the mind
1385To suffer with the body; Ile forbeare,
¶And am fallen out with my more headier will,
1390That this remotion of the Duke and her
¶Is practise only. Giue me my Seruant forth;
¶Goe tell the Duke, and's wife, Il'd speake with them:
¶Now, presently: bid them come forth and heare me,
¶Or at their Chamber doore Ile beate the Drum,
1395Till it crie sleepe to death.
¶Foole. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cockney did to the
1400o'th'coxcombs with a sticke, and cryed downe wantons,
¶Horse buttered his Hay.
¶
Enter Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.
¶Lear. Good morrow to you both.
¶I would diuorce me from thy Mother Tombe,
¶Some other time for that. Beloued Regan,
1415With how deprau'd a quality. Oh Regan.
¶Reg. I pray you Sir, take patience, I haue hope
¶Lear. Say? How is that?
¶Would faile her Obligation. If Sir perchance
¶She haue restrained the Riots of your Followres,
¶As cleeres her from all blame.
¶Reg. O Sir, you are old,
¶Nature in you stands on the very Verge
¶Of his confine: you should be rul'd, and led
1430Better then you your selfe: therefore I pray you,
¶That to our Sister, you do make returne,
¶Say you haue wrong'd her.
¶Do you but marke how this becomes the house?
¶That you'l vouchsafe me Rayment, Bed, and Food.
¶Returne you to my Sister.
1440Lear. Neuer Regan:
¶She hath abated me of halfe my Traine;
¶Look'd blacke vpon me, strooke me with her Tongue
¶Most Serpent-like, vpon the very Heart.
¶All the stor'd Vengeances of Heauen, fall
1445On her ingratefull top: strike her yong bones
¶Le. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames
¶Into her scornfull eyes: Infect her Beauty,
1450You Fen-suck'd Fogges, drawne by the powrfull Sunne,
¶To fall, and blister.
1455Thy tender-hefted Nature shall not giue
¶Do comfort, and not burne. 'Tis not in thee
¶To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my Traine,
¶The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood,
¶Effects of Curtesie, dues of Gratitude:
¶Thy halfe o'th'Kingdome hast thou not forgot,
1465Wherein I thee endow'd.
¶Lear. Who put my man i'th'Stockes?
¶
Enter Steward.
¶Corn. What Trumpet's that?
¶Dwels in the sickly grace of her he followes.
¶Out Varlet, from my sight.
1475Corn. What meanes your Grace?
¶
Enter Gonerill.
¶Thou did'st not know on't.
¶Who comes here? O Heauens!
¶Allow Obedience; if you your selues are old,
¶Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part.
¶Art not asham'd to looke vpon this Beard?
¶O Regan, will you take her by the hand?
1485Gon. Why not by'th'hand Sir? How haue I offended?
¶All's not offence that indiscretion findes,
¶And dotage termes so.
¶Will you yet hold?
1490How came my man i'th'Stockes?
Deseru'd
