818Corn. Father, what ayleth you to be so sad?

819Me thinks, you frollike not as you were wont.

820Leir. The neerer we do grow vnto our graues,

821The lesse we do delight in worldly ioyes.

822Corn. But if a man can frame himselfe to myrth,

823It is a meane for to prolong his life.

824Leir. Then welcome sorrow, Leirs only friend,

825Who doth desire his troubled dayes had end.

826Corn. Comfort your selfe, father, here comes your daughter,

827Who much will grieue, I kuow, to see you sad. EnterGonorill.

828Leir. But more doth grieue, I feare, to see me liue.

829Corn. My Gonorill, you come in wished time,

830To put your father from these pensiue dumps.

831In fayth, I feare that all things go not well.

832Gon. What, do you feare, that I haue angred him?

833Hath he complaynd of me vnto my Lord?

834Ile prouide him a piece of bread and cheese;

835For in a time heele practise nothing else,

836Then carry tales from one vnto another.

837Tis all his practise for to kindle strife,

838'Twixt you, my Lord, and me your louing wife:

839But I will take an order, if I can,

840To cease th'effect, where first the cause began.

841Corn. Sweet, be not angry in a partiall cause,

842He ne're complaynd of thee in all his life.

843Father, you must not weygh a womans words.

844Leir. Alas, not I: poore soule, she breeds yong bones,

845And that is it makes her so tutchy sure.

846Gon. What, breeds young bones already! you will make

847An honest woman of me then, belike.

848O vild olde wretch! who euer heard the like,

849That seeketh thus his owne child to defame?

850Corn. I cannot stay to heare this discord sound.Exit.

851Gon. For any one that loues your company,

852You may go pack, and seeke some other place,

853Tosowe the seed of discord and disgrace. Exit.

854Leir. Thus, say or do the best that e're I can,

855Tis wrested straight into another sence.

856This punishment my heauy sinnes deserue,

857And more then this ten thousand thousand times:

858Else aged Leir them could neuer find

859Cruell to him, to whom he hath bin kind.

860Why do I ouer-liue my selfe, to see

861The course of nature quite reuerst in me?

862Ah, gentle Death, if euer any wight

863Did wish thy presence with a perfit zeale:

864Then come, I pray thee, euen with all my heart,

865And end my sorrowes with thy fatall dart. He weepes.

866Per. Ah, do not so disconsolate your selfe,

867Nor dew your aged cheeks with wasting teares.

868Leir. What man art thou that takest any pity

869Vpon the worthlesse state of old Leir?

D Per. One,

870Per. One, who doth beare as great a share of griefe,

871As if it were my dearest fathers case.

872Leir. Ah, good my friend, how ill art thou aduisde,

873For to consort with miserable men:

874Go learne to flatter, where thou mayst in time

875Get fauour 'mongst the mighty, and so clyme:

876For now I am so poore and full of want,

877As that I ne're can recompence thy loue.

878Per.What's got by flattery, doth not long indure;

879And men in fauour liue not most secure.

880My conscience tels me, if I should forsake you,

881I were the hatefulst excrement on the earth:

882Which well do know, in course of former time,

883How good my Lord hath bin to me and mine.

884Leir. Did I ere rayse thee higher then the rest

885Of all thy ancestors which were before?

886Per. I ne're did seeke it; but by your good Grace,

887I still inioyed my owne with quietnesse.

888Leir. Did I ere giue thee liuing, to increase

889The due reuennues which thy father left?

890Per. I had ynough, my Lord, and hauing that,

891What should you need to giue me any more?

892Leir. Oh, did I euer dispossesse my selfe,

893And giue thee halfe my Kingdome in good will?

894Per. Alas, my Lord, there were no reason, why

895You should haue such a thought, to giue it me.

896Leir. Nay, if thou talke of reason, then be mute;

897For with good reason I can thee confute.

898If they, which first by natures sacred law,

899Do owe to me the tribute of their liues;

900If they to whom I alwayes haue bin kinde,

901And bountifull beyond comparison;

902If they, for whom I haue vndone my selfe,

903And brought my age vnto this extreme want,

904Do now reiect, contemne, despise, abhor me,

905What reason moueth thee to sorrow for me?

906Per . Where reason fayles, let teares confirme my loue,

907And speake how much your passions do me moue.

908Ah, good my Lord, condemne not all for one:

909You haue two daughters left, to whom I know

910You shall be welcome, if you please to go.

911Leir. Oh, how thy words adde sorrow to my soule,

912To thinke of my vnkindnesse to Cordella!

913Whom causelesse I did dispossesse of all,

914Vpon th'vnkind suggesstions of her sisters:

915And for her sake, I thinke this heauy doome

916Is falne on me, and not without desert:

917Yet vnto Ragan was I alwayes kinde,

918And gaue to her the halfe of all I had:

919It may be, if I should to her repayre,

920She would be kinder, and intreat me fayre.

921Per. No doubt she would, & practise ere't be long,

922By force of Armes for to redresse your wrong.

923Leir. Well, since thou doest aduise me for to go,

924I am resolu'd to try the worst of wo. Exeunt.