EDMOND I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily. When saw you my father last?

EDGAR The night gone by.

EDMOND Spake you with him?

EDGAR Ay, two hours together.

EDMOND Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word nor countenance?

EDGAR None at all.

EDMOND Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him, and at my entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.

EDGAR Some villain hath done me wrong.

EDMOND That’s my fear. I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray ye, go. There’s my key. If you do stir abroad, go armed.

EDGAR Armed, brother?

EDMOND Brother, I advise you to the best. I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I have seen and heard but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it. Pray you, away.

EDGAR Shall I hear from you anon?

EDMOND I do serve you in this business.

Exit Edgar

A credulous father, and a brother noble,

Whose nature is so far from doing harms

That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty

My practices ride easy. I see the business.

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit.

All with me’s meet that I can fashion fit.

Exit

1.3 Enter Goneril and Oswald, her steward GONERIL

Did my father strike my gentleman

For chiding of his fool?

OSWALD Ay, madam.

GONERIL

By day and night he wrongs me. Every hour

He flashes into one gross crime or other

That sets us all at odds. I’ll not endure it.

His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us

On every trifle. When he returns from hunting

I will not speak with him. Say I am sick.

If you come slack of former services

You shall do well; the fault of it I’ll answer.

⌈Horns within⌉

OSWALD He’s coming, madam. I hear him.

GONERIL

Put on what weary negligence you please,

You and your fellows. I’d have it come to question.

If he distaste it, let him to my sister,

Whose mind and mine I know in that are one.

Remember what I have said.

OSWALD Well, madam.

GONERI,

And let his knights have colder looks among you.

What grows of it, no matter. Advise your fellows so.

I’ll write straight to my sister to hold my course.

Prepare for dinner.

Exeunt severally

1.4 Enter the Earl of Kent, disguised

KENT

If but as well I other accents borrow

That can my speech diffuse, my good intent

May carry through itself to that full issue

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

If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned,

So may it come thy master, whom thou lov’st,

Shall find thee full of labours.

Horns within. Enter King Lear and attendants from hunting

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

⌈Exit one⌉

(To Kent) How now, what art thou?

KENT A man, sir.

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

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

LEAR What art thou?

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

LEAR If thou be‘st as poor for a subject as he’s for a king, thou’rt poor enough. What wouldst thou?

KENT Service.

LEAR Who wouldst thou serve?

KENT You.

LEAR Dost thou know me, fellow?

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

LEAR What’s that?

KENT Authority.

LEAR What services canst do?

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

LEAR How old art thou?

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

LEAR Follow me. Thou shalt serve me, if I like thee no worse after dinner. I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho, dinner! Where’s my knave, my fool? Go you and call my fool hither. ⌈Exit one⌉

Enter Oswald the steward

You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?

OSWALD So please you—

Exit

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

Exit a knight

Where’s my fool? Ho, I think the world’s asleep.

Enter a Knight

How now? Where’s that mongrel?

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

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

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

LEAR A would not?

KNIGHT My lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my judgement your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont. There’s a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himself also, and your daughter.

LEAR Ha, sayst thou so?

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

LEAR Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception. I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into’t. But where’s my fool? I have not seen him these two days.

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

LEAR No more of that, I have noted it well. Go you and tell my daughter I would speak with her. ⌈Exit one⌉ Go you, call hither my fool. ⌈Exit one⌉

Enter Oswald the steward ⌈crossing the stage⌉

O you, sir, you, come you hither, sir, who am I, sir? OSWALD My lady’s father.

LEAR My lady’s father? My lord’s knave, you whoreson dog, you slave, you cur!

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

LEAR Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

⌈Lear strikes him⌉

OSWALD I’ll not be strucken, my lord.

KENT ⌈tripping him⌉ Nor tripped neither, you base football player.

LEAR (to Kent) I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv’st me, and

I’ll love thee.

KENT (to Oswald) Come, sir, arise, away. I’ll teach you differences. Away, away. If you will measure your lubber’s length again, tarry; but away, go to. Have you wisdom? So. Exit Oswald