King Lear (Folio 1, 1623)
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288
The Tragedie of King Lear
¶Sir, the Foole hath much pined away.
¶Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it well, goe you
605and tell my Daughter, I would speake with her. Goe you
¶call hither my Foole; Oh you Sir, you, come you hither
¶Sir, who am I Sir?
¶
Enter Steward.
¶Ste. My Ladies Father.
610Lear. My Ladies Father? my Lords knaue, you whor-
¶I beseech your pardon.
¶Lear. I thanke thee fellow.
620away, away, if you will measure your lubbers length a-
¶Lear. Now my friendly knaue I thanke thee, there's
¶
Enter Foole.
625Foole. Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcombe.
¶Lear. Why my Boy?
¶Foole. Why? for taking ones part that's out of fauour,
¶colde shortly, there take my Coxcombe; why this fellow
¶ha's banish'd two on's Daughters, and did the third a
¶needs weare my Coxcombe. How now Nunckle? would
635I had two Coxcombes and two Daughters.
¶Lear. Why my Boy?
¶Fool. If I gaue them all my liuing, I'ld keepe my Cox-
¶combes my selfe, there's mine, beg another of thy
¶Daughters.
640Lear. Take heed Sirrah, the whip.
¶whipt out, when the Lady Brach may stand by'th'fire
¶and stinke.
¶Lear. Do.
¶Foole. Marke it Nuncle;
¶Ride more then thou goest,
¶Learne more then thou trowest,
¶Leaue thy drinke and thy whore,
655And keepe in a dore,
¶And thou shalt haue more,
¶Then two tens to a score.
¶Kent. This is nothing Foole.
¶Foole. Then 'tis like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer,
660you gaue me nothing for't, can you make no vse of no-
¶thing Nuncle?
¶Lear. Why no Boy,
¶Nothing can be made out of nothing.
665comes to, he will not beleeue a Foole.
¶Lear. A bitter Foole.
¶tweene a bitter Foole, and a sweet one.
¶Lear. No Lad, teach me.
670Foole. Nunckle, giue me an egge, and Ile giue thee
¶two Crownes.
¶Foole. Why after I haue cut the egge i'th'middle and
¶eate vp the meate, the two Crownes of the egge: when
¶durt, thou had'st little wit in thy bald crowne, when thou
¶And know not how their wits to weare,
¶thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gau'st them
¶the rod, and put'st downe thine owne breeches, then they
¶For sodaine ioy did weepe,
¶And goe the Foole among.
¶Pry'thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaster that can teach
¶thy Foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie.
695Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are,
¶they'l haue me whipt for speaking true: thou'lt haue me
¶whipt for lying, and sometimes I am whipt for holding
¶my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then a foole,
¶and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou hast pared thy
700wit o' both sides, and left nothing i'th'middle; heere
¶comes one o'the parings.
¶
Enter Gonerill.
¶Lear. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet
¶on? You are too much of late i'th'frowne.
¶need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O with-
¶out a figure, I am better then thou art now, I am a Foole,
¶your face bids me, though you say nothing.
710Mum, mum, he that keepes nor crust, nor crum,
¶Gon. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole,
¶But other of your insolent retinue
¶Do hourely Carpe and Quarrell, breaking forth
715In ranke, and (not to be endur'd) riots Sir.
¶I had thought by making this well knowne vnto you,
¶That you protect this course, and put it on
720By your allowance, which if you should, the fault
¶Which in the tender of a wholesome weale,
¶Might in their working do you that offence,
725Will call discreet proceeding.
¶Foole. For you know Nunckle, the Hedge-Sparrow
¶fed the Cuckoo so long, that it's had it head bit off by it
¶young, so out went the Candle, and we were left dark-
¶ling.
730Lear. Are you our Daughter?
¶(Whereof I know you are fraught), and put away
¶From what you rightly are.
Foole. May
