If but as will I other accents borrow

532That can my speech diffuse, my good intent

533May carry through itself to that full issue

534For which I razed my likeness. Now, banished Kent,

535If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned,

536So may it come thy master, whom thou lovest,

537Shall find thee full of labors.

Let me not stay a jot for dinner. Go get it 540ready.

[To Kent] How now, what art thou?

A man, sir.

What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou 543with us?

I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve 545him truly that will put me in trust, to love him that is 546honest, to converse with him that is wise and says little, to 547fear judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to 548eat no fish.

What art thou?

A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as 551the King.

If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a 553king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

Service.

Who wouldst thou serve?

You.

Dost thou know me, fellow?

No sir, but you have that in your countenance 559which I would fain call master.

What's that?

Authority.

What services canst thou do?

I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a 564curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message 565bluntly. That which ordinary men are fit for I am 566qualified in, and the best of me is diligence.

How old art thou?

Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, 569nor so old to dote on her for anything. I have years on 570my back forty-eight.

Follow me. Thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no 572worse after dinner I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, 573ho! Dinner! Where's my knave, my fool? Go you and call 574my fool hither.

You--you, sirrah--where's my daughter?

So please you--

What says the fellow there? Call the 578clotpoll back.

Where's my fool? Ho! I think the world's 579asleep.

How now? Where's that mongrel?

He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

Why came not the slave back to me when I 582called him?

Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner he 584would not.

He would not?

My lord, I know not what the matter is, 587but to my judgment your highness is not entertained 588with that ceremonious affection as you were wont. 589There's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in 590the general dependents as in the duke himself also, and 591your daughter.

Ha? Sayest thou so?

I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be 594mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent when I think 595your highness wronged.

Thou but rememberest me of mine own 597conception. I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, 598which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous 599curiosity than as a very pretense and purpose of unkindness. 600I will look further into 't. But where's my fool? I 601have not seen him this two days.

Since my young lady's going into France, 603sir, the fool hath much pined away.

No more of that, I have noted it well. Go you 605and tell my daughter I would speak with her.

Go you, 606call hither my fool.

O you, sir, you. Come you hither 607sir. Who am I, sir?

My lady's father.

"My lady's father"? My lord's knave, you 611whoreson dog, you slave, you cur.

I am none of these, my lord. 613I beseech your pardon.

[Striking him] Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

I'll not be strucken my lord.

[Tripping him] Nor tripped neither, you base football player.

I thank thee, fellow. 618Thou servest me, and I'll love thee.

[To Oswald] Come sir, arise. Away! I'll teach you differences. 620Away, away! If you will measure your lubber's length 621again, tarry, but away! Go to, have you wisdom? So.

Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. [Giving money] There's 623earnest of thy service.

Let me hire him too. [To Kent, holding out his cap] Here's my coxcomb.

How now, my pretty knave, how dost thou?

[To Kent] Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

Why, my boy?

Why? For taking one's part that's out of favor. 630Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits thou'lt catch 631cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb. Why this fellow 632has banished two on's daughters, and did the third a 633blessing against his will. If thou follow him, thou must 634needs wear my coxcomb. [To Lear] How now, nuncle? Would 635I had two coxcombs and two daughters.

Why, my boy?

If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my 638coxcombs myself. There's mine; beg another of thy 639daughters.

Take heed, sirrah--the whip.

Truth's a dog must to kennel. He must be 642whipped out, when the Lady Brach may stand by th'fire 643and stink.

A pestilent gall to me.

Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.

Do.

Mark it, nuncle.

This is nothing, fool.

Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; 660you gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of 661nothing nuncle?

Why no, boy. 663Nothing can be made out of nothing.

[To Kent] Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land 665comes to. He will not believe a fool.

A bitter fool.

[To Lear] Dost thou know the difference, my boy, 668between a bitter fool and a sweet one?

No, lad, teach me.

15.1No, faith, lords and great men will not let me. If I had 669.10599a monopoly on't, they would have part on't. And ladies too; they 669.11600will not let me have all the fool to myself, they'll be snatching. 670 15Nuncle, give me an egg, and I'll give thee 671two crowns.

What two crowns shall they be?

Why, after I have cut the egg i'th'middle and 674eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When 675thou clovest thy crowns i'th'middle and gavest away 676both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy back o'er the 677dirt. Thou had'st little wit in thy bald crown when thou 678gavest thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in 679this, let him be whipped that first finds it so.

When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?

I have used it, nuncle, e'er since thou mad'st 686thy daughters thy mothers; for when thou gav'st them 687the rod, and puttest down thine own breeches,

692Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach 693thy fool to lie. I would fain learn to lie.

An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped.

I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. 696They'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt have me 697whipped for lying, and sometimes I am whipped for holding 698my peace. I had rather be any kind o'thing than a fool; 699and yet I would not be thee nuncle. Thou hast pared thy 700wit o'both sides, and left nothing i'th'middle. Here 701comes one o'the parings.

How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet 704on? You are too much of late i'th'frown.

Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no 706need to care for her frowning. Now thou art an "O" 707without a figure. I am better than thou art now--I am a fool, 708thou art nothing. [To Goneril] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so 709your face bids me though you say nothing.

[Pointing to Lear.] That's a shelled peascod.

Not only, sir, this, your all-licensed fool,

713But other of your insolent retinue

714Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth

715In rank and not-to-be-endurèd riots. Sir,

716I had thought by making this well known unto you

717To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful

718By what yourself too late have spoke and done

719That you protect this course, and put it on

720By your allowance; which if you should, the fault

721Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep;

722Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,

723Might in their working do you that offence,

724Which else were shame, that then necessity

725Will call discreet proceeding.

For you know nuncle,

So out went the candle, and we were left 729darkling.

Are you our daughter?

I would you would make use of your good wisdom,

732Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away

733These dispositions which of late transport you

734From what you rightly are.

May not an ass know when the cart draws 736the horse?--

737Whoop, Jug, I love thee!

Does any here know me? 739This is not Lear.

4740Does Lear walk thus? Speak thus? Where are his eyes?

741Either his notion weakens, his discernings

742Are lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so.

743Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Lear's shadow.

Your name, fair gentlewoman?

This admiration, sir, is much o'th'savor

747Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you

748To understand my purposes aright.

749As you are old and reverend, should be wise.

750Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires,

751Men so disordered, so debauched and bold,

752That this our court, infected with their manners,

753Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust

754Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel

755Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak

756For instant remedy. Be then desired

757By her, that else will take the thing she begs,

758A little to disquantity your train,

759And the remainders that shall still depend

760To be such men as may besort your age,

761Which know themselves, and you.

Which know themselves, and you. Darkness and devils!

763Saddle my horses. Call my train together.

764Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee.

765Yet have I left a daughter.

You strike my people, and your disordered rabble

767Make servants of their betters.

Woe that too late repents.

770[To Albany] Is it your will? Speak, sir. [To a servant] Prepare my horses.

771Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend,

772More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child

773Than the sea-monster.

Than the sea-monster. Pray, sir, be patient.

[To Goneril] Detested kite, thou liest.

776My train are men of choice and rarest parts,

777That all particulars of duty know,

778And in the most exact regard support

779The worships of their name. Oh, most small fault,

780How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show,

781Which like an engine, wrenched my frame of nature

782From the fixèd place; drew from my heart all love

783And added to the gall.

And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!

784Beat at this gate that let thy folly in

785And thy dear judgment out. Go, go, my people.

My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant

787Of what hath moved you.

Of what hath moved you. It may be so, my lord.

789Hear Nature, hear dear goddess, hear.

790Suspend thy purpose if thou didst intend

791To make this creature fruitful.

792Into her womb convey sterility,

793Dry up in her the organs of increase,

794And from her derogate body never spring

795A babe to honor her. If she must teem,

796Create her child of spleen, that it may live

797And be a thwart, disnatured torment to her.

798Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,

799With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks,

800Turn all her mother's pains and benefits

801To laughter and contempt, that she may feel

802How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is

803To have a thankless child. Away, away.

Now, gods that we adore, 805whereof comes this?

Never afflict yourself to know more of it,

807But let his disposition have that scope

808As dotage gives it.

What? Fifty of my followers at a clap

811Within a fortnight?

Within a fortnight? What's the matter, sir?

I'll tell thee--814life and death, I am ashamed

815That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;

816That these hot tears which break from me perforce

817Should make thee worth them. 818Blasts and fogs upon thee!

819Th'untented woundings of a father's curse

820Pierce every sense about thee. Old fond eyes,

821Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out

822And cast you with the waters that you loose

823To temper clay. Ha? Let it be so.

824I have another daughter,

825Who I am sure is kind and comfortable.

826When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails

827She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find

828That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think

829I have cast off for ever.

I have cast off for ever. Do you mark that?

I cannot be so partial, Goneril,

832To the great love I bear you--

Pray you content. What, Oswald, ho!

834[To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master!

Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, 836tarry. Take the fool with thee.

This man hath had good counsel. 843A hundred knights?

844'Tis politic and safe to let him keep

845At point a hundred knights? Yes, that on every dream,

846Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,

847He may enguard his dotage with their powers

848And hold our lives in mercy.--Oswald, I say!

Well, you may fear too far.

Well, you may fear too far. Safer than trust too far.

851Let me still take away the harms I fear,

852Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart.

853What he hath uttered I have writ my sister.

854If she sustain him and his hundred knights

855When I have showed th'unfitness--

When I have showed th'unfitness-- 857How now Oswald?

858What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

Ay, madam.

Take you some company and away to horse.

861Inform her full of my particular fear,

862And thereto add such reasons of your own

863As may compact it more. Get you gone,

864And hasten your return.

And hasten your return. No, no, my lord,

865This milky gentleness and course of yours,

866Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,

867You are much more at task for want of wisdom

868Than praised for harmful mildness.

How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.

870Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

Nay then--

Well, well, th'event.