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  • Title: King Lear (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Michael Best
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-463-9

    Copyright Michael Best. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Michael Best
    Not Peer Reviewed

    King Lear (Folio 1, 1623)

    Scena Secunda.
    1075 Enter Kent, aad Steward seuerally.
    Stew. Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?
    Kent. I.
    Stew. Where may we set our horses?
    Kent. I'th'myre.
    1080 Stew. Prythee, if thou lou' st me, tell me.
    Kent. I loue thee not.
    Ste. Why then I care not for thee.
    Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make
    thee care for me.
    1085 Ste. Why do' st thou vse me thus? I know thee not.
    Kent. Fellow I know thee.
    Ste. What do' st thou know me for?
    Kent. A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a
    base, proud, shallow, beggerly, three-suited-hundred
    1090pound, filthy woo sted- stocking knaue, a Lilly-liuered,
    action-taking, whoreson gla s s e-gazing super-seruiceable
    finicall Rogue, one Trunke-inheriting slaue, one that
    would' st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art no-
    thing but the compo sition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward,
    1095Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch,
    one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou
    deny' st the lea st sillable of thy addition.
    Stew. Why, what a mon strous Fellow art thou, thus
    to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor
    1100knowes thee?
    Kent. What a brazen-fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny
    thou knowe st me ? Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy
    heeles, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,
    for though it be night, yet the Moone shines, Ile make a
    1105 sop oth'Moon shine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly
    Barber-monger, draw.
    Stew. Away, I haue nothing to do with thee.
    Kent. Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters a-
    gain st the King, and take Vanitie the puppets part, a-
    1110gain st the Royaltie of her Father: draw you Rogue, or
    Ile so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascall, come
    your waies.
    Ste. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.
    Kent. Strike you slaue: stand rogue, stand you neat
    1115 slaue, strike.
    Stew. Helpe hoa, murther, murther.
    Enter Ba stard, Cornewall, Regan, Glo ster, Seruants.
    Ba st . How now, what's the matter? Part.
    Kent. With you goodman Boy, if you please, come,
    1120Ile fle sh ye, come on yong Ma ster.
    Glo. Weapons? Armes? what's the matter here?
    Cor. Keepe peace vpon your liues, he dies that strikes
    againe, what is the matter?
    Reg. The Me s s engers from our Si ster, and the King?
    1125 Cor. What is your difference, speake?
    Stew. I am scarce in breath my Lord.
    Kent. No Maruell, you haue so be stir'd your valour,
    you cowardly Rascall, nature disclaimes in thee: a Taylor
    made thee.
    1130 Cor. Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man?
    Kent. A Taylor Sir, a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could
    not haue made him so ill, though they had bin but two
    yeares oth'trade.
    Cor. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?
    1135 Ste. This ancient Ruffian Sir, whose life I haue spar'd
    at sute of his gray-beard.
    Kent. Thou whoreson Zed, thou vnnece s s ary letter:
    my Lord, if you will giue me leaue, I will tread this vn-
    boulted villaine into morter, and daube the wall of a
    1140Iakes with him. Spare my gray-beard, you wagtaile?
    Cor. Peace sirrah,
    You bea stly knaue, know you no reuerence?
    Kent. Yes Sir, but anger hath a priuiledge.
    Cor. Why art thou angrie?
    1145 Kent. That such a slaue as this should weare a Sword,
    Who weares no hone sty: such smiling rogues as these,
    Like Rats oft bite the holy cords a twaine,
    Which are t'intrince, t'vnloose: smooth euery pa s sion
    That in the natures of their Lords rebell,
    1150Being oile to fire, snow to the colder moodes,
    Reuenge, affirme, and turne their Halcion beakes
    With euery gall, and varry of their Ma sters,
    Knowing naught (like dogges) but following:
    A plague vpon your Epilepticke visage,
    1155Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Foole?
    Goose, if I had you vpon Sarum Plaine,
    I'ld driue ye cackling home to Camelot.
    Corn. What art thou mad old Fellow?
    Glo st . How fell you out, say that?
    1160 Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
    Then I, and such a knaue.
    Corn. Why do' st thou call him Knaue?
    What is his fault?
    Kent. His countenance likes me not.
    1165 Cor. No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers.
    Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plaine,
    I haue seene better faces in my time,
    Then stands on any shoulder that I see
    Before me, at this in stant.
    1170 Corn. This is some Fellow,
    Who hauing beene prais'd for bluntne s s e, doth affect
    A saucy roughnes, and con straines the garb
    Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter he,
    An hone st mind and plaine, he mu st speake truth,
    1175And they will take it so, if not, hee's plaine.
    These kind of Knaues I know, which in this plainne s s e
    Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
    Then twenty silly-ducking obseruants,
    That stretch their duties nicely.
    1180 Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
    Vnder th'allowance of your great aspect,
    Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire
    On flicking Phoebus front.
    Corn. What mean' st by this?
    1185 Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discom-
    mend so much; I know Sir, I am no flatterer, he that be-
    guild you in a plaine accent, was a plaine Knaue, which
    for my part I will not be, though I should win your
    displeasure to entreat me too't.
    1190 Corn. What was th'offence you gaue him?
    Ste. I neuer gaue him any:
    It pleas'd the King his Ma ster very late
    To strike at me vpon his miscon struction,
    When he compact, and flattering his displeasure
    1195Tript me behind: being downe, insulted, rail'd,
    And put vpon him such a deale of Man,
    That worthied him, got praises of the King,
    For him attempting, who was selfe-subdued,
    And in the fle shment of this dead exploit,
    1200Drew on me here againe.
    Kent. None of these Rogues, and Cowards
    But Aiax is there Foole.
    Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks?
    You stubborne ancient Knaue, you reuerent Bragart,
    1205Wee'l teach you.
    Kent. Sir, I am too old to learne:
    Call not your Stocks for me, I serue the King.
    On whose imployment I was sent to you,
    You shall doe small respects, show too bold malice
    1210Again st the Grace, and Person of my Ma ster,
    Stocking his Me s s enger.
    Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;
    As I haue life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noone.
    Reg. Till noone? till night my Lord, and all night too.
    1215 Kent. Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog,
    You should not vse me so.
    Reg. Sir, being his Knaue, I will. Stocks brought out.
    Cor. This is a Fellow of the selfe same colour,
    Our Si ster speakes of. Come, bring away the Stocks.
    1220 Glo. Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so,
    The King his Ma ster, needs mu st take it ill
    That he so slightly valued in his Me s s enger,
    Should haue him thus re strained.
    Cor. Ile answere that.
    1225 Reg. My Si ster may recieue it much more wor s s e,
    To haue her Gentleman abus'd, a s s aulted.
    Corn. Come my Lord, away. Exit.
    Glo. I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Duke pleasure,
    Whose dispo sition all the world well knowes
    1230Will not be rub'd nor stopt, Ile entreat for thee .
    Kent. Pray do not Sir, I haue watch'd and trauail'd hard,
    Some time I shall sleepe out, the re st Ile whi stle:
    A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles:
    Giue you good morrow.
    1235 Glo. The Duke's too blame in this,
    'Twill be ill taken. Exit.
    Kent. Good King, that mu st approue the common saw,
    Thou out of Heauens benediction com' st
    To the warme Sun.
    1240Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe,
    That by thy comfortable Beames I may
    Peruse this Letter. Nothing almo st sees miracles
    But miserie. I know 'tis from Cordelia,
    Who hath mo st fortunately beene inform'd
    1245Of my obscured course. And shall finde time
    From this enormous State, seeking to giue
    Lo s s es their remedies. All weary and o're-watch'd,
    Take vantage heauie eyes, not to behold
    This shamefnll lodging. Fortune goodnight,
    1250Smile once more, turne thy wheele.
    Enter Edgar.
    Edg. I heard my selfe proclaim'd,
    And by the happy hollow of a Tree,
    Escap'd the hunt. No Port is free, no place
    1255That guard, and mo st vnusall vigilance
    Do's not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape
    I will preserue myselfe: and am bethought
    To take the base st, and mo st poore st shape
    That euer penury in contempt of man,
    1260Brought neere to bea st; my face Ile grime with filth,
    Blanket my loines, elfe all my haires in knots,
    And with presented nakedne s s e out-face
    The Windes, and persecutions of the skie;
    The Country giues me proofe, and pre sident
    1265Of Bedlam beggers, who with roaring voices,
    Strike in their num'd and mortified Armes.
    Pins, Wodden-prickes, Nayles, Sprigs of Rosemarie:
    And with this horrible obiect, from low Farmes,
    Poore pelting Villages, Sheeps-Coates, and Milles,
    1270Sometimes with Lunaticke bans, sometime with Praiers
    Inforce their charitie: poore Turlygod poore Tom,
    That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. Exit.
    Enter Lear, Foole, and Gentleman.
    Lea. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
    1275And not send backe my Me s s engers.
    Gent. As I learn'd,
    The night before, there was no purpose in them
    Of this remoue.
    Kent. Haile to thee Noble Ma ster.
    1280 Lear. Ha? Mak' st thou this shame ahy pa stime ?
    Kent. No my Lord.
    Foole. Hah, ha, he weares Cruell Garters Horses are
    tide by the heads, Dogges and Beares by'th'necke,
    Monkies by'th'loynes, and Men by'th'legs: when a man
    1285ouerlu stie at legs, then he weares wodden nether- stocks.
    Lear. What's he,
    That hath so much thy place mi stooke
    To set thee heere?
    Kent. It is both he and she,
    1290Your Son, and Daughter.
    Lear. No.
    Kent. Yes.
    Lear. No I say.
    Kent. I say yea.
    1295 Lear. By Iupiter I sweare no.
    Kent. By Iuno, I sweare I.
    Lear. They dur st not do't:
    They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse then murther,
    To do vpon respect such violent outrage:
    1300Resolue me with all mode st ha ste, which way
    Thou might' st deserue, or they impose this vsage,
    Comming from vs.
    Kent. My Lord, when at their home
    I did commend your Highne s s e Letters to them,
    1305Ere I was risen from the place, that shewed
    My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Po ste,
    Stew'd in his ha ste, halfe breathle s s e, painting forth
    From Gonerill his Mi stris, salutations;
    Deliuer'd Letters spight of intermi s sion,
    1310Which presently they read; on those contents
    They summon'd vp their meiney, straight tooke Horse,
    Commanded me to follow, and attend
    The leisure of their answer, gaue me cold lookes,
    And meeting heere the other Me s s enger,
    1315Whose welcome I perceiu'd had poison'd mine,
    Being the very fellow which of late
    Displaid so sawcily again st your Highne s s e,
    Hauing more man then wit about me, drew;
    He rais'd the house, with loud and coward cries,
    1320Your Sonne and Daughter found this trespa s s e worth
    The shame which heere it suffers.
    Foole. Winters not gon yet, if the wil'd Geese fly that (way,
    Fathers that weare rags, do make their Children blind,
    But Fathers that beare bags, shall see their children kind.
    1325Fortune that arrant whore, nere turns the key to th'poore.
    But for all this thou shalt haue as many Dolors for thy
    Daughters, as thou can st tell in a yeare.
    Lear. Oh how this Mother swels vp toward my heart!
    Hi storica pa s sio, downe thou climing sorrow,
    1330Thy Elements below where is this Daughter?
    Kent. Wirh the Earle Sir, here within.
    Lear. Follow me not, stay here. Exit.
    Gen. Made you no more offence,
    But what you speake of?
    1335 Kent. None:
    How chance the the King comes with so small a number?
    Foole. And thou had st beene set i'th'Stockes for that
    que stion, thoud' st well deseru'd it.
    Kent. Why Foole?
    1340 Foole. Wee'l set thee to schoole to an Ant, to teach
    thee ther's no labouring i'th'winter. All that follow their
    noses, are led by their eyes, but blinde men, and there's
    not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stink-
    ing; let go thy hold, when a great wheele runs downe a
    1345hill, lea st it breake thy necke with following. But the
    great one that goes vpward, let him draw thee after:
    when a wiseman giues thee better counsell giue me mine
    againe, I would hause none but knaues follow it, since a
    Foole giues it.
    1350That Sir, which serues and seekes for gaine,
    And followes but for forme;
    Will packe, when it begins to raine,
    And leaue thee in the storme,
    But I will tarry, the Foole will stay,
    1355And let the wiseman flie:
    The knaue turnes Foole that runnes away,
    The Foole noknaue perdie.
    Enter Lear, and Glo ster:
    Kent. Where learn'd you this Foole ?
    1360 Foole. Not i'th'Stocks Foole.
    Lear. Deny to speake with me ?
    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.
    1370 Lear. Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confu sion :
    Fiery? What quality? Why Glo ster, Glo ster,
    I'ld speake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife.
    Glo. Well my good Lord, I haue inform'd them so.
    Lear. Inform'd them? Do' st thou vnder stand me man.
    1375 Glo. I my good Lord.
    Lear. The King would speake with Cornwall,
    The deere Father
    Would with his Daughter speake, commands, tends, ser- (uice,
    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 oppre st, commands the mind
    1385To suffer with the body; Ile forbeare,
    And am fallen out with my more headier will,
    To take the indispos'd and sickly fit,
    For the sound man. Death on my state: wherefore
    Should he sit heere? This act perswades me,
    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.
    Glo. I would haue all well betwixt you. Exit.
    Lear. Oh me my heart! My ri sing heart! But downe.
    Foole. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cockney did to the
    Eeles, when she put 'em i'th'Pa ste aliue, she knapt 'em
    1400o'th'coxcombs with a sticke, and cryed downe wantons,
    downe; 'twas her Brother, that in pure kindne s s e to his
    Horse buttered his Hay.
    Enter Cornewall, Regan, Glo ster, Seruants.
    Lear. Good morrow to you both.
    1405 Corn. Haile to your Grace. Kent here set at liberty.
    Reg. I am glad to see your Highne s s e.
    Lear. Regan, I thinke your are. I know what reason
    I haue to thinke so, if thou should' st not be glad,
    I would diuorce me from thy Mother Tombe,
    1410Sepulchring an Adultre s s e. O are you free?
    Some other time for that. Beloued Regan,
    Thy Si sters naught: oh Regan, she hath tied
    Sharpe-tooth'd vnkindne s s e, like a vulture heere,
    I can scarce speake to thee, thou'lt not beleeue
    1415With how deprau'd a quality. Oh Regan.
    Reg. I pray you Sir, take patience, I haue hope
    You le s s e know how to value her desert,
    Then she to scant her dutie.
    Lear. Say? How is that?
    1420 Reg. I cannot thinke my Si ster in the lea st
    Would faile her Obligation. If Sir perchance
    She haue re strained the Riots of your Followres,
    'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
    As cleeres her from all blame.
    1425 Lear. My curses on her.
    Reg. O Sir, you are old,
    Nature in you stands on the very Verge
    Of his confine: you should be rul'd, and led
    By some discretion, that discernes your state
    1430Better then you your selfe: therefore I pray you,
    That to our Si ster, you do make returne,
    Say you haue wrong'd her.
    Lear. Aske her forgiuene s s e?
    Do you but marke how this becomes the house?
    1435Deere daughter, I confe s s e that I am old;
    Age is vnnece s s ary: on my knees I begge,
    That you'l vouchsafe me Rayment, Bed, and Food.
    Reg. Good Sir, no more: these are vn sightly trickes:
    Returne you to my Si ster.
    1440 Lear. Neuer Regan:
    She hath abated me of halfe my Traine;
    Look'd blacke vpon me, strooke me with her Tongue
    Mo st Serpent-like, vpon the very Heart.
    All the stor'd Vengeances of Heauen, fall
    1445On her ingratefull top: strike her yong bones
    You taking Ayres, with Lamene s s e.
    Corn. Fye sir, fie.
    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 bli ster.
    Reg. O the ble st Gods!
    So will you wi sh on me, when the ra sh moode is on.
    Lear. No Regan, thou shalt neuer haue my curse:
    1455Thy tender-hefted -->Nature shall not giue
    Thee o're to har shne s s e: Her eyes are fierce, but thine
    Do comfort, and not burne. 'Tis not in thee
    To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my Traine,
    To bandy ha sty words, to scant my sizes,
    1460And in conclu sion, to oppose the bolt
    Again st my comming in. Thou better know' st
    The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood,
    Effects of Curte sie, dues of Gratitude:
    Thy halfe o'th'Kingdome ha st thou not forgot,
    1465Wherein I thee endow'd.
    Reg. Good Sir, to'th'purpose. Tucket within.
    Lear. Who put my man i'th'Stockes?
    Enter Steward.
    Corn. What Trumpet's that?
    1470 Reg. I know't, my Si sters: this approues her Letter,
    That she would soone be heere. Is your Lady come?
    Lear. This is a Slaue, whose ea sie borrowed pride
    Dwels in the sickly grace of her he followes.
    Out Varlet, from my sight.
    1475 Corn. What meanes your Grace?
    Enter Gonerill.
    Lear. Who stockt my Seruant? Regan, I haue good hope
    Thou did' st not know on't.
    Who comes here? O Heauens!
    1480If you do loue old men; if your sweet sway
    Allow Obedience; if you your selues are old,
    Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part.
    Art not a sham'd to looke vpon this Beard?
    O Regan, will you take her by the hand?
    1485 Gon. Why not by'th'hand Sir? How haue I offended?
    All's not offence that indiscretion findes,
    And dotage termes so.
    Lear. O sides, you are too tough!
    Will you yet hold?
    1490How came my man i'th'Stockes?
    Corn. I set him there, Sir: but his owne Disorders
    Deseru'd much le s s e aduancement.
    Lear. You? Did you?
    Reg. I pray you Father being weake, seeme so.
    1495If till the expiration of your Moneth
    You will returne and soiourne with my Si ster,
    Dismi s sing halfe your traine, come then to me,
    I am now from home, and out of that proui sion
    Which shall be needfull for your entertainement.
    1500 Lear. Returne to her? and fifty men dismiss'd?
    No, rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse
    To wage again st the enmity oth'ayre,
    To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle,
    Nece s sities sharpe pinch. Returne with her?
    1505Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerle s s e tooke
    Our yonge st borne, I could as well be brought
    To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pen sion beg,
    To keepe base life a foote; returne with her?
    Perswade me rather to be slaue and sumpter
    1510To this dete sted groome.
    Gon. At your choice Sir.
    Lear. I prythee Daughter do not make me mad,
    I will not trouble thee my Child; farewell:
    Wee'l no more meete, no more see one another.
    1515But yet thou art my fle sh, my blood, my Daughter,
    Or rather a disease that's in my fle sh,
    Which I mu st needs call mine. Thou art a Byle,
    A plague sore, or imbo s s ed Carbuncle
    In my corrupted blood. But Ile not chide thee,
    1520Let shame come when it will, I do not call it,
    I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoote,
    Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging Ioue,
    Mend when thou can' st, be better at thy leisure,
    I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
    1525I and my hundred Knights.
    Reg. Not altogether so,
    I look'd not for you yet, nor am prouided
    For your fit welcome, giue eare Sir to my Si ster,
    For those that mingle reason with your pa s sion,
    1530Mu st be content to thinke you old, and so,
    But she knowes what she doe's.
    Lear. Is this well spoken?
    Reg. I dare auouch it Sir, what fifty Followers?
    Is it not well? What should you need of more?
    1535Yea, or so many? Sith that both charge and danger,
    Speake 'gain st so great a number? How in one house
    Should many people, vnder two commands
    Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almo st impo s sible.
    Gon. Why might not you my Lord, receiue attendance
    1540From those that she cals Seruants, or from mine?
    Reg. Why not my Lord?
    If then they chanc'd to slacke ye,
    We could comptroll them; if you will come to me,
    (For now I spie a danger) I entreate you
    1545To bring but fiue and twentie ,to no more
    Will I giue place or notice.
    Lear. I gaue you all.
    Reg. And in good time you gaue it.
    Lear. Made you my Guardians, my Depo sitaries,
    1550But kept a reseruation to be followed
    With such a number? What , mu st I come to you
    With fiue and twenty? Regan, said you so?
    Reg. And speak't againe my Lord, no more with me.
    Lea. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor'd
    1555When others are more wicked, not being the wor st
    Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go with thee,
    Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty,
    And thou art twice her Loue.
    Gon. Heare me my Lord;
    1560What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue?
    To follow in a house, where twice so many
    Haue a command to tend you?
    Reg. What need one?
    Lear. O reason not the need: our base st Beggers
    1565Are in the poore st thing superfluous.
    Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs:
    Mans life is cheape as Bea stes. Thou art a Lady;
    If onely to go warme were gorgeous,
    Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear' st,
    1570Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need:
    You Heauens, giue me that patience, patience I need,
    You see me heere (you Gods) a poore old man,
    As full of griefe as age, wretched in both,
    If it be you that stirres these Daughters hearts
    1575Again st their Father, foole me not so much,
    To beare it tamely: touch me with Noble anger,
    And let not womens weapons, water drops,
    Staine my mans cheekes. No you vnnaturall Hags,
    I will haue such reuenges on you both,
    1580That all the world shall---I will do such things,
    What they are yet, I know not, but they shal be
    The terrors of the earth? you thinke Ile weepe,
    No, Ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping.
    Storme and Tempe st .
    1585But this heart shal break into a hundred thousand flawes
    Or ere Ile weepe; O Foole, I shall go mad. Exeunt.
    Corn. Let vs withdraw, 'twill be a Storme.
    Reg. This house is little, the old man an'ds people,
    Cannot be well be stow'd.
    1590 Gon. 'Tis his owne blame hath put himselfe from re st,
    And mu st needs ta ste his folly.
    Reg. For his particular, Ile receiue him gladly,
    But not one follower.
    Gon. So am I purpos'd.
    1595Where is my Lord of Glo ster ?
    Enter Glo ster.
    Corn. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd.
    Glo. The King is in high rage.
    Corn. Whether is he going?
    1600 Glo. He cals to Horse, but will I know not whether.
    Corn. 'Tis be st to giue him way, he leads himselfe.
    Gon. My Lord, entreate him by no meanes to stay.
    Glo. Alacke the night comes on, and the high windes
    Do sorely ruffle, for many Miles about
    1605There's scarce a Bu sh.
    Reg. O Sir, to wilfull men,
    The iniuries that they themselues procure,
    Mu st be their Schoole-Ma sters: shut vp your doores,
    He is attended with a desperate traine,
    1610And what they may incense him too, being apt,
    To haue his eare abus'd, wisedome bids feare.
    Cor. Shut vp your doores my Lord, 'tis a wil'd night,
    My Regan counsels well: come out oth' storme. Exeunt.