Dismissing half your train, come then to me.

I am now from home, and out of that provision

Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

LEAR

Return to her, and fifty men dismissed?

No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose

To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,

To wage against the enmity o’th’ air

Necessity’s sharp pinch. Return with her?

Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took

Our youngest born—I could as well be brought

To knee his throne and, squire-like, pension beg

To keep base life afoot. Return with her?

Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter

To this detested groom.

GONERIL

At your choice, sir.

LEAR

I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad.

I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell.

We’ll no more meet, no more see one another.

But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter—

Or rather a disease that’s in my flesh,

Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil,

A plague-sore or embossed carbuncle

In my corrupted blood. But I’ll not chide thee.

Let shame come when it will, I do not call it.

I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.

Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure.

I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,

I and my hundred knights.

REGAN

Not altogether so.

I looked not for you yet, nor am provided

For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;

For those that mingle reason with your passion

Must be content to think you old, and so—

But she knows what she does.

LEAR

Is this well spoken?

REGAN

I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers?

Is it not well? What should you need of more,

Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger

Speak ‘gainst so great a number? How in one house

Should many people under two commands

Hold amity? ’Tis hard, almost impossible.

GONERIL

Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance

From those that she calls servants, or from mine?

REGAN

Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack ye,

We could control them. If you will come to me—

For now I spy a danger—I entreat you

To bring but five-and-twenty; to no more

Will I give place or notice.

LEAR I gave you all.

REGAN And in good time you gave it.

LEAR

Made you my guardians, my depositaries,

But kept a reservation to be followed

With such a number. What, must I come to you

With five-and-twenty? Regan, said you so?

REGAN

And speak’t again, my lord. No more with me.

LEAR

Those wicked creatures yet do look well favoured

When others are more wicked. Not being the worst

Stands in some rank of praise. (To Goneril) I’ll go with

thee.

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,

And thou art twice her love.

GONERIL

Hear me, my lord.

What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,

To follow in a house where twice so many

Have a command to tend you?

REGAN

What need one?

LEAR

O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars

Are in the poorest thing superfluous.

Allow not nature more than nature needs,

Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. Thou art a lady.

If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou, gorgeous, wear’st,

Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But for true need—

You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need.

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,

As full of grief as age, wretched in both.

If it be you that stirs these daughters’ hearts

Against their father, fool me not so much

To bear it tamely. Touch me with noble anger,

And let not women’s weapons, water-drops,

Stain my man’s cheeks. No, you unnatural hags,

I will have such revenges on you both

That all the world shall—I will do such things—

What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be

The terrors of the earth. You think I’ll weep.

No, I’ll not weep. I have full cause of weeping,

Storm and tempest

But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand

flaws

Or ere I’ll weep.—O Fool, I shall go mad!

Exeunt Lear, Fool, Gentleman, and Gloucester

CORNWALL

Let us withdraw. ’Twill be a storm.

REGAN

This house is little. The old man and ’s people

Cannot be well bestowed.

GONERIL

’Tis his own blame;

Hath put himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.

REGAN

For his particular I’ll receive him gladly,

But not one follower.

GONERIL

So am I purposed.

Where is my lord of Gloucester?

CORNWALL

Followed the old man forth.

⌈Enter the Duke of Gloucester⌉

He is returned.

GLOUCESTER

The King is in high rage.

CORNWALL

Whither is he going?

GLOUCESTER

He calls to horse, but will I know not whither.

CORNWALL

’Tis best to give him way. He leads himself.

GONERIL (to Gloucester)

My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.

GLOUCESTER

Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds

Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about

There’s scarce a bush.