Page 21
p. 21
The
Tragedy
of
King
Lear.
93
Lear.
I’ll
tell
thee:
Life
and
Death,
I
am
asham’d
That
thou
hast
power
to
shake
my
manhood
thus,
That
these
hot
tears,
which
break
from
me
perforce,
Should
make
thee
worth
them,
Blasts
and
Fogs
upon
thee:
Th’
untented
woundings
of
a
Father’s
Curse
Pierce
every
sense
about
thee.
Old
fond
Eyes,
Beweep
thee
once
again,
I’ll
pluck
ye
out,
And
cast
you
with
the
Waters
that
you
lose
To
temper
Clay.
Ha?
Let
it
be
so.
I
have
another
Daughter,
Who
I
am
sure
is
kind
and
comfortable:
When
she
shall
hear
this
of
thee,
with
her
nails
Shee’ll
flea
thy
Wolvish
visage.
Thou
shalt
find,
That
I’ll
resume
the
shape
which
thou
dost
think
I
have
cast
off
for
ever.
Con.
Do
you
mark
that?
Alb.
I
cannot
be
so
partial,
Gonerill,
To
the
great
love
I
bear
you.
Gon.
Pray
you
content.
What,
Oswald,
ho?
You,
Sir,
more
Knave
than
Fool,
after
your
Master.
Fool.
Nuncle
Lear,
Nuncle
Lear,
Tarry,
take
the
Fool
with
thee:
A
Fox,
when
one
has
caught
her,
And
such
a
Daughter,
Should
sure
to
the
slaughter,
If
my
Cap
would
buy
a
Halter,
So
the
Fool
follows
after.
[Exit.
Gon.
This
man
hath
had
good
counsel,
A
hundred
Knights?
’Tis
politick,
and
safe
to
let
him
keep
At
point
a
hundred
Knights:
yes,
that
on
every
Dream,
Each
buz,
each
fancy,
each
complaint,
dislike,
He
may
enguard
his
dotage
with
their
powers,
And
hold
our
lives
in
mercy.
Oswald,
I
say.
Alb.
Well,
you
may
fear
too
far;
Gon.
Safer
than
trust
too
far;
Let
me
still
take
away
the
harms
I
fear,
Not
fear
still
to
be
taken.
I
know
his
heart,
What
he
hath
utter’d,
I
have
writ
my
Sister:
If
she’ll
sustain
him,
and
his
hundred
Knights
When
I
have
shew’d
th’
unfitness.
Enter
Steward.
How
now,
Oswald?
What
have
you
writ
that
Letter
to
my
Sister?
Stew.
I,
Madam.
Gon.
Take
you
some
Company,
and
away
to
Horse,
Inform
her
full
of
my
particular
fear,
And
thereto
add
such
reasons
of
your
own,
As
may
compact
it
more.
Get
you
gone,
And
hasten
your
return;
no,
no,
my
Lord,
This
milky
gentleness,
and
course
of
yours
Though
I
condemn
not,
yet
under
pardon
You
are
much
more
at
task
for
want
of
wisdom,
Than
prais’d
for
harmful
mildness.
Alb.
How
far
your
Eyes
may
pierce
I
cannot
tell;
Striving
to
better,
oft
we
mar
what's
well.
Gon.
Nay
then-
Alb.
Well,
well,
the
’vent.
[Exeunt.
Scena
Quinta.
Enter
Lear,
Kent,
Gentleman,
and
Fool.
Lear.
Go
you
before
to
Gloster
with
these
Letters;
ac-
quaint
my
Daughter
no
further
with
anything
you
know,
than
comes
from
her
demand
out
of
the
Letter,
if
your
diligence
be
not
speedy,
I
shall
be
there
afore
you.
Kent.
I
will
not
sleep,
my
Lord,
till
I
have
delivered
your
Letter.
[Exit.
Fool.
If
a
man’s
brains
were
in
his
heels,
wert
not
in
danger
of
kibes?
Lear.
I,
Boy.
Fool.
Then
I
prythee
be
merry,
thy
Wit
shall
not
go
flip-shod.
Lear.
Ha,
ha,
ha.
Fool.
Shalt
see
thy
other
Daughter
will
use
thee
kindly,
for
though
she’s
as
like
this,
as
a
Crab’s
like
an
Apple,
yet
I
can
tell
what
I
can
tell.
Lear.
What
canst
tell,
Boy?
Fool.
She
will
taste
as
like
this,
as
a
Crab
do’s
to
a
Crab:
canst
thou
tell
why
ones
Nose
stands
i’
th’
middle
on’s
face?
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Why
to
keep
ones
Eyes
of
either
side’s
nose,
that
what
a
man
cannot
smell
out,
he
may
spy
into.
Lear.
I
did
her
wrong.
Fool.
Canst
tell
how
an
Oyster
makes
his
shell?
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Nor
I
neither;
but
I
can
tell
why
a
Snail
has
a
House.
Lear.
Why?
Fool.
Why
to
put’s
head
in,
not
to
give
it
away
to
his
Daughters,
and
leave
his
Horns
without
a
Cafe.
Lear.
I
will
forget
my
Nature,
so
kind
a
Father?
Be
my
Horses
ready?
Fool.
Thy
Asses
are
gone
about
’em;
the
reason
why
the
seven
Stars
are
no
more
than
seven,
is
a
pretty
reason.
Lear.
Because
they
are
not
eight.
Fool.
Yes
indeed,
thou
would’st
make
a
good
Fool.
Lear.
To
tak’t
again
perforce?
Monster
ingratitude!
Foul.
If
you
were
my
Fool,
Nuncle,
Il’d
have
thee
beat
en
for
being
old
before
thy
time.
Lear.
How’s
that?
Fool.
Thou
should’st
not
have
bin
old,
till
thou
had’st
bin
wife.
Lear.
O
let
me
not
be
mad,
not
mad,
sweet
Heaven:
keep
me
in
temper,
I
would
not
be
mad.
How
now,
are
the
Horses
ready?
Gent.
Ready,
my
Lord.
Lear.
Come,
Boy.
Fool.
She
that’s
a
Maid
now,
and
laughs
at
my
departure,
Shall
not
be
a
Maid
long,
unless
things
be
cut
shorter.
[Exeunt.
A
Bus
Secundm.
Sceita
Vrimci.
Enter
Baftard,
and
Curan,
feverally.
Baft
Q
Ave
thee,
Cur
an.
O
Cur.
And
you,
Sir,
I
have
bin
With
your
Father,
and
given
him
notice
That
the
Duke
of
Comwal,
and
Regan
his
Dutchefs
Will
be
here
with
him
this
night.
'Baft.
How
comes
that
?
Car.
Nay
I
know
not,
you
have
heard
of
the
news
a-
broad,
I
mean
the
whifper’d
ones,
for
they
are
yet
but
Ear-kiffing
Arguments.
Baft.
Not
1
:
pray
you
what
are
they
?
Car.
Have
you
heard
of
no
likely
Wars
toward,
’Twixt
the
Dukes
of
Cornwall
and
Albany
f
Baft.
Not
a
word.
Cur.
You
may
do
then
in
time,
Fare
you
well,
Sir.
Baft.
The
Duke
be
here
to
night?
the
better
belt,
This
weaves
it
felf
perforce
into
my
bufinefs,
My
Father
hath
fet
guard
to
take
my
Brother,
And
I
have
one
thing
of
a
queazy
queftion
Which
I
muft
aft,
briefnefs,
and
fortune
work.
Enter