Tell the Duke and ’s wife I’ll speak with them,

Now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me,

Or at their chamber door I’ll beat the drum

Till it cry sleep to death.

GLOUCESTER I would have all well

Betwixt you.

Exit

LEAR O, my heart, my heart!

FOOL Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ‘em i’th’ paste alive. She rapped ‘em o’th’ coxcombs with a stick, and cried ‘Down, wantons, down!’ ’Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Enter the Duke of Cornwall and Regan, the Duke of Gloucester, and others

LEAR Good morrow to you both.

CORNWALL Hail to your grace.

⌈Kent here set at liberty⌉

REGAN I am glad to see your highness.

LEAR

Regan, I think you are. I know what reason

I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad

I would divorce me from thy mother’s shrine,

Sepulchring an adultress. (To Kent) Yea, are you free?

Some other time for that.—Belovèd Regan,

Thy sister is naught. O, Regan, she hath tied

Sharp-toothed unkindness like a vulture here.

I can scarce speak to thee. Thou’lt not believe

Of how deplored a quality—O, Regan!

REGAN

I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope

You less know how to value her desert

Than she to slack her duty.

LEAR My curses on her.

REGAN O sir, you are old.

Nature in you stands on the very verge

Of her confine. You should be ruled and led

By some discretion that discerns your state

Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray

That to our sister you do make return;

Say you have wronged her, sir.

LEAR Ask her forgiveness?

Do you mark how this becomes the house?

⌈Kneeling⌉ ‘Dear daughter, I confess that I am old.

Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg

That you’ll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.’

REGAN

Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks.

Return you to my sister.

LEAR ⌈rising⌉ No, Regan.

She hath abated me of half my train,

Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue

Most serpent-like upon the very heart.

All the stored vengeances of heaven fall

On her ungrateful top! Strike her young bones,

You taking airs, with lameness!

CORNWALL Fie, fie, sir.

LEAR

You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames

Into her scornful eyes. Infect her beauty,

You fen-sucked fogs drawn by the pow’rful sun

To fall and blast her pride.

REGAN O, the blest gods!

So will you wish on me when the rash mood—

LEAR

No, Regan. Thou shalt never have my curse.

Thy tender-hested nature shall not give

Thee o‘er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce, but thine

Do comfort and not burn. ’Tis not in thee

To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,

To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,

And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt

Against my coming in. Thou better know’st

The offices of nature, bond of childhood,

Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude.

Thy half of the kingdom hast thou not forgot,

Wherein I thee endowed.

REGAN Good sir, to th’ purpose.

LEAR

Who put my man i’th’ stocks?

⌈Trumpets within⌉

CORNWALL What trumpet’s that?

Enter Oswald the steward

REGAN

I know’t, my sister’s. This approves her letters

That she would soon be here. (To Oswald) Is your lady

come?

LEAR

This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride

Dwells in the fickle grace of her a follows.

He strikes Oswald⌉

Out, varlet, from my sight!

CORNWALL What means your grace?

Enter Gonoril

GONORIL

Who struck my servant? Regan, I have good hope

Thou didst not know on’t.

LEAR Who comes here? O heavens,

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway

Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,

Make it your cause! Send down and take my part.

(To Gonoril) Art not ashamed to look upon this

beard?

O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

GONORIL

Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?

All’s not offence that indiscretion finds

And dotage terms so.

LEAR O sides, you are too tough!

Will you yet hold?—How came my man i’th’ stocks?

CORNWALL

I set him there, sir; but his own disorders

Deserved much less advancement.

LEAR You? Did you?

REGAN

I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.

If till the expiration of your month

You will return and sojourn with my sister,

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 of the air

Necessity’s sharp pinch. Return with her?

Why, the hot-blood in 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.

GONORIL At your choice, sir.

LEAR

Now I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad.

I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell.