SCENE III. A room in the DUKE OF ALBANY's palace. Enter GONERIL and OSWALD, her Steward. GON. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? Osw. Ay, madam. GON. 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 I will not speak with him; say, I am sick : Osw. He's coming, madam; I hear him. [Horns without. 5 10 GON. 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, 15 Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, Not to be overruled. Idle old man, That still would manage those authorities That he hath given away! Now, by my life, Old fools are babes again, and must be used 20 Well, madam. Osw. GON. And let his knights have colder looks among you; Prepare for dinner. 25 [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A hall in the same. Enter KENT, disguised. KENT. If but as well I other accents borrow, For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent, Horns without. Enter LEAR, Knights, and Attendants. LEAR. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How now! what art thou? LEAR. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us? 5 10 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 judg- 15 ment; 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 as poor for a subject as he is for a king, 20 thou art 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. 25 LEAR. What services canst thou 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. 30 35 LEAR. Follow me; thou shalt serve me; if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, 40 ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool? Go you, and call my fool hither. Enter OSWALD. You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? Osw. So please you-- LEAR. What says the fellow there? [Exit an Attendant. [Exit. Call the clotpoll 45 back. [Exit a Knight.] Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep. Re-enter 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 50 him? KNIGHT. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not. LEAR. He would not! KNIGHT. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to 55 my judgment, 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! say'st thou so? 60 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 65 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 this two days. KNIGHT. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away. 70 Go you, LEAR. No more of that; I have noted it well. and tell my daughter I would speak with her. [Exit an Attendant.] Go you, call hither my fool. [Exit an Attendant.] Re-enter OSWALD. O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I, sir? LEAR. My lady's father! my lord's knave: you dog! you slave! you cur! Osw. I am none of these, my lord: I beseech your pardon. LEAR. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal ? Osw. I'll not be struck, my lord. [Striking him. KENT. Nor tripped neither, you base football-player. [Tripping up his heels. LEAR. I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love thee. 75 80 KENT. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences; 85 away, away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry but away! go to; have you wisdom? so. [Pushes OSWALD out. LEAR. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's earnest of thy service, [Giving KENT money. Enter Fool. FOOL. Let me hire him too; here's my coxcomb. 90 [Giving KENT his cap. LEAR. How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou? FOOL. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. KENT. Why, fool? FOOL. Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour: nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch 95 cold shortly there, take my coxcomb: why, this fellow has banished two of his daughters, and done the third a blessing against his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. How now, nuncle? Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! LEAR. Why, my boy? FOOL. If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my coxcombs myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. LEAR. Take heed, sirrah; the whip. 100 FOOL. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped 105 out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink. LEAR. A pestilent gall to me! FOOL. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. FOOL. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer, you 120 gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? LEAR. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. |