To thee a woman's services are due: My fool usurps my body. Osw. Madam, here comes my lord. Enter ALBANY. [Exit Gon. I have been worth the whistle. Alb. O Goneril! You are not worth the dust which the rude wind She that herself will sliver and disbranch Gon. No more; the text is foolish. Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd ? A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded. Could my good brother suffer you to do it? If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep. Gon. Milk-liver'd man! That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning drum ? France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, Alb. Gon. O vain fool! Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame, Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Gon. Marry, your manhood now— Enter a Messenger. Alb. What news? Mess. O! my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead; Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester. Alb. Gloucester's eyes! Mess. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Opposed against the act, bending his sword To his great master; who, thereat enraged, Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead; But not without that harmful stroke, which since Hath pluck'd him after. Alb. This shows you are above, our nether crimes But, O poor Gloucester ! Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; "T is from your sister. Gon. [Aside.] One way I like this well; But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, May all the building in my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life: another way, The news is not so tart. I'll read, and answer. [Exit. Alb. Where was his son when they did take his eyes? Mess. Come with my lady hither. Alb. He is not here. Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back again. Alb. Knows he the wickedness? Mess. Ay, my good lord; 't was he inform'd against him, And quit the house on purpose that their punish ment Might have the freer course. Alb. Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king, And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend: Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The French Camp near Dover. Enter KENT and a Gentleman. Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly back know you the reason? gone Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of; which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger that his personal return was most required and necessary. Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? Gent. The Marshal of France, Monsieur la Far. Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief? Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down Sought to be king o'er her. Kent. As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief, If all could so become it. Kent. Made she no verbal question? Gent. Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father' Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; Cried Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters! Kent! father! sisters! What! i' the storm? i' the night? Let pity not be believed!' There she shook And clamour-moisten'd, then away she started Kent. It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions; Else one self mate and mate could not beget Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? Gent. No. Kent. Was this before the king return'd? Gent. No, since. Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town; Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers Will yield to see his daughter. Gent. Why, good sir? Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness, That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her Gent. |