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American Shakespeare Center, Love's Labour's Lost. To Jun. 15, 2013.
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King Lear (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Michael Best
Not Peer Reviewed
290
The Tragedie of King Lear
And hasten your returne; no, no, my Lord,
865This milky gentlenesse, and course of yours
Though I condemne not, yet vnder pardon
Your are much more at task for want of wisedome,
Then prai'sd for harmefull mildnesse.
Alb. How farre your eies may pierce I cannot tell;
870Striuing to better, oft we marre what's well.
Gon. Nay then----
Alb. Well, well, th'euent.
Exeunt


Scena Quinta.


Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, and Foole.

875Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these Letters;
acquaint my Daughter no further with any thing you
know, then comes from her demand out of the Letter,
if your Dilligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore
you.
880Kent. I will not sleepe my Lord, till I haue deliuered
your Letter.
Exit.
Foole. If a mans braines were in's heeles, wert not in
danger of kybes?
Lear. I Boy.
885Foole. Then I prythee be merry, thy wit shall not go
slip-shod.
Lear. Ha, ha, ha.
Fool. Shalt see thy other Daughter will vse thee kind-
ly, for though she's as like this, as a Crabbe's like an
890Apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
Lear. What can'st tell Boy?
Foole. She will taste as like this as, a Crabbe do's to a
Crab: thou canst tell why ones nose stands i'th'middle
on's face?
895Lear. No.
Foole. Why to keepe ones eyes of either side 's nose,
that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.
Lear. I did her wrong.
Foole. Can'st tell how an Oyster makes his shell?
900Lear. No.
Foole. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snaile ha's
a house.
Lear. Why?
Foole. Why to put's head in, not to giue it away to his
905daughters, and leaue his hornes without a case.
Lear. I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father? Be
my Horsses ready?
Foole. Thy Asses are gone about 'em; the reason why
the seuen Starres are no mo then seuen, is a pretty reason.
910Lear. Because they are not eight.
Foole. Yes indeed, thou would'st make a good Foole.
Lear. To tak't againe perforce; Monster Ingratitude!
Foole. If thou wert my Foole Nunckle, Il'd haue thee
beaten for being old before thy time.
915Lear. How's that?
Foole. Thou shouldst not haue bin old, till thou hadst
bin wise.
Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad sweet Heauen:
keepe me in temper, I would not be mad. How now are
920the Horses ready?
Gent. Ready my Lord.
Lear. Come Boy.
Fool. She that's a Maid now, & laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a Maid long, vnlesse things be cut shorter.
925
Exeunt.


Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.


Enter Bastard, and Curan, seuerally.

Bast. Saue thee Curan.
Cur. And your Sir, I haue bin
930With your Father, and giuen him notice
That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Duchesse
Will be here with him this night.
Bast. How comes that?
Cur. Nay I know not, you haue heard of the newes a-
935broad, I meane the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but
ear-kissing arguments.
Bast. Not I: pray you what are they?
Cur. Haue you heard of no likely Warres toward,
'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany?
940Bast. Not a word.
Cur. You may do then in time,
Fare you well Sir.
Exit.
Bast. The Duke be here to night? The better best,
This weaues it selfe perforce into my businesse,
945My Father hath set guard to take my Brother,
And I haue one thing of a queazie question
Which I must act, Briefenesse, and Fortune worke.
Enter Edgar.
Brother, a word, discend; Brother I say,
950My Father watches: O Sir, fly this place,
Intelligence is giuen where you are hid;
You haue now the good aduantage of the night,
Haue you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornewall?
Hee's comming hither, now i'th'night, i'th'haste,
955And Regan with him, haue you nothing said
Vpon his partie 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
Aduise your selfe.
Edg. I am sure on't, not a word.
Bast. I heare my Father comming, pardon me:
960In cunning, I must draw my Sword vpon you:
Draw, seeme to defend your selfe,
Now quit you well.
Yeeld, come before my Father, light hoa, here,
Fly Brother, Torches, Torches, so farewell.
965
Exit Edgar.
Some blood drawne on me, would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeauour. I haue seene drunkards
Do more then this in sport; Father, Father,
Stop, stop, no helpe?

970
Enter Gloster, and Seruants with Torches.

Glo. Now Edmund, where's the villaine?
Bast. Here stood he in the dark, his sharpe Sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charmes, coniuring the Moone
To stand auspicious Mistris.
975Glo. But where is he?
Bast. Looke Sir, I bleed.
Glo. Where is the villaine, Edmund?
Bast. Fled this way Sir, when by no meanes he could.
Glo. Pursue him, ho: go after. By no meanes, what?
980Bast. Perswade me to the murther of your Lordship,
But