KING LEAR [[THE FOLIO TEXT]]

Act 2 Scene 2

(Enter the Earl of Kent, disguised, and Oswald the steward, severally)
l1l	Oswald	 Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house?
l2l	Kent	Ay.
l3l	Oswald	Where may we set our horses?
l4l	Kent	I’ th’ mire.
l5l	Oswald	Prithee, if thou lov’st me, tell me.
l6l	Kent	I love thee not.
l7l	Oswald	Why then, I care not for thee.
l8l	Kent	If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold I would make thee
l9l		care for me.
l10l	Oswald	Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.
l11l	Kent	Fellow, I know thee.
l12l	Oswald	What dost thou know me for?
l13l	Kent	A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats, a base,
l14l		proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound,
l15l		filthy worsted-stocking knave# a lily-livered, action-
l16l		taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable,
l17l		finical rogue# one-trunk-inheriting slave# one that
l18l		wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art
l19l		nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar,
l20l		coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel
l21l		bitch, one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if
l22l		thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
l23l	Oswald	Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to
l24l		rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows
l25l		thee!
l26l	Kent	What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou
l27l		knowest me! Is it two days since I tripped up thy heels
l28l		and beat thee before the King? Draw, you rogue# for
l29l		though it be night, yet the moon shines.
		(He draws his sword)
l30l		I’ll make a sop o’ th’ moonshine of you, you whoreson,
l31l		cullionly barber-monger, draw!
l32l	Oswald	Away. I have nothing to do with thee.
l33l	Kent	Draw, you rascal. You come with letters against
l34l		the King, and take Vanity the puppet’s part against the
l35l		royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or I’ll so
l36l		carbonado your shanks—draw, you rascal, come your
l37l		ways!
l38l	Oswald	Help, ho, murder, help!
l39l	Kent	Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat
l40l		slave, strike!
l41l	Oswald	Help, ho, murder, murder!
		(Enter Edmond the bastard, then the Duke of Cornwall, Regan, the Duke of Gloucester, and servants)
l42l	Edmond	 How now, what’s the matter? Part.
l43l	Kent	With you, goodman boy. If you please, come, I’ll
l44l		flesh ye. Come on, young master.
l45l	Gloucester	Weapons? Arms? What’s the matter here?
l46l	Cornwall	 Keep peace, upon your lives. He dies that strikes again.
l47l		What is the matter?
l48l	Regan	 The messengers from our sister and the King.
l49l	Cornwall	(to Kent and Oswald)
		 What is your difference?
l50l		Speak.
l51l	Oswald	I am scarce in breath, my lord.
l52l	Kent	No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour, you
l53l		cowardly rascal. Nature disclaims in thee# a tailor made
l54l		thee.
l55l	Cornwall	Thou art a strange fellow—a tailor make a
l56l		man?
l57l	Kent	A tailor, sir. A stone-cutter or a painter could not
l58l		have made him so ill though they had been but two
l59l		years o’ th’ trade.
l60l	Cornwall	 Speak yet# how grew your quarrel?
l61l	Oswald	 This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared
l62l		at suit of his grey beard—
l63l	Kent	Thou whoreson Z, thou unnecessary letter—
		(to)
l64l		Cornwall) my lord, if you’ll give me leave I will tread
l65l		this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the wall of
l66l		a jakes with him.
		(To Oswald)
		 Spare my grey beard,
l67l		you wagtail?
l68l	Cornwall	 Peace, sirrah.
l69l		You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
l70l	Kent	Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege.
l71l	Cornwall	Why art thou angry?
l72l	Kent	That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
l73l		Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
l74l		Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain
l75l		Which are too intrince t’ unloose, smooth every passion
l76l		That in the natures of their lords rebel#
l77l		Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods,
l78l		Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
l79l		With every gall and vary of their masters,
l80l		Knowing naught, like dogs, but following.
l81l		(To Oswald)
		 A plague upon your epileptic visage!
l82l		Smile you my speeches as I were a fool?
l83l		Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain
l84l		I’d drive ye cackling home to Camelot.
l85l	Cornwall	What, art thou mad, old fellow?
	Gloucester	
		(to Kent)
		 How fell you out? Say that.
l86l	Kent	No contraries hold more antipathy
l87l		Than I and such a knave.
	Cornwall	Why dost thou call him knave?
l88l		What is his fault?
	Kent	His countenance likes me not.
l89l	Cornwall	No more perchance does mine, nor his, nor hers.
l90l	Kent	Sir, ’tis my occupation to be plain:
l91l		I have seen better faces in my time
l92l		Than stands on any shoulder that I see
l93l		Before me at this instant.
	Cornwall	This is some fellow
l94l		Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect
l95l		A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb
l96l		Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he#
l97l		An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth.
l98l		An they will take ’t, so# if not, he’s plain.
l99l		These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
l100l		Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends
l101l		Than twenty silly-ducking observants
l102l		That stretch their duties nicely.
l103l	Kent	Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
l104l		Under th’ allowance of your great aspect,
l105l		Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
l106l		On flick’ring Phoebus’ front—
	Cornwall	What mean’st by this?
l107l	Kent	 To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so
l108l		much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that beguiled
l109l		you in a plain accent was a plain knave, which for my
l110l		part I will not be, though I should win your displeasure
l111l		to entreat me to ’t.
l112l	Cornwall	(to Oswald)
		 What was th’ offence you gave him?
	Oswald	I never gave him any.
l113l		It pleased the King his master very late
l114l		To strike at me upon his misconstruction,
l115l		When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure,
l116l		Tripped me behind# being down, insulted, railed,
l117l		And put upon him such a deal of man
l118l		That worthied him, got praises of the King
l119l		For him attempting who was self-subdued,
l120l		And in the fleshment of this dread exploit
l121l		Drew on me here again.
	Kent	None of these rogues and cowards
l122l		But Ajax is their fool.
	Cornwall	Fetch forth the stocks!
		( 122B Exeunt some servants)
l123l		You stubborn, ancient knave, you reverend braggart,
l124l		We’ll teach you.
	Kent	Sir, I am too old to learn.
l125l		Call not your stocks for me. I serve the King,
l126l		On whose employment I was sent to you.
l127l		You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
l128l		Against the grace and person of my master,
l129l		Stocking his messenger.
	Cornwall	
		(calling)
		 Fetch forth the stocks!—
l130l		As I have life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.
l131l	Regan	Till noon?—till night, my lord, and all night too.
l132l	Kent	Why, madam, if I were your father’s dog
l133l		You should not use me so.
	Regan	Sir, being his knave, I will.
		( 133B Stocks brought out)
l134l	Cornwall	 This is a fellow of the selfsame colour
l135l		Our sister speaks of.—Come, bring away the stocks.
l136l	Gloucester	Let me beseech your grace not to do so.
l137l		The King his master needs must take it ill
l138l		That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,
l139l		Should have him thus restrained.
	Cornwall	I’ll answer that.
		( 139B They put Kent in the stocks)
l140l	Regan	 My sister may receive it much more worse
l141l		To have her gentlemen abused, assaulted.
l142l	Cornwall	Come, my good lord, away!
		(Exeunt all but Gloucester and Kent)
l143l	Gloucester	 I am sorry for thee, friend. ’Tis the Duke’s pleasure,
l144l		Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
l145l		Will not be rubbed nor stopped. I’ll entreat for thee.
l146l	Kent	Pray do not, sir. I have watched and travelled hard.
l147l		Some time I shall sleep out# the rest I’ll whistle.
l148l		A good man’s fortune may grow out at heels.
l149l		Give you good morrow.
l150l	Gloucester	The Duke’s to blame in this# ’twill be ill taken.
		( 150 Exit)
l151l	Kent	 Good King, that must approve the common say:
l152l		Thou out of heaven’s benediction com’st
l153l		To the warm sun.
		(He takes out a letter)
l154l		Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
l155l		That by thy comfortable beams I may
l156l		Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
l157l		But misery. I know ’tis from Cordelia,
l158l		Who hath now fortunately been informed
l159l		Of my obscurèd course, and shall find time
l160l		For this enormous state, seeking to give
l161l		Losses their remedies. All weary and o’erwatched,
l162l		Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
l163l		This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night#
l164l		Smile once more# turn thy wheel.
		(He sleeps)
		
		(Enter Edgar)
		
	Edgar	 I heard myself proclaimed,
l165l		And by the happy hollow of a tree
l166l		Escaped the hunt. No port is free, no place
l167l		That guard and most unusual vigilance
l168l		Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape
l169l		I will preserve myself, and am bethought
l170l		To take the basest and most poorest shape
l171l		That ever penury in contempt of man
l172l		Brought near to beast. My face I’ll grime with filth,
l173l		Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots,
l174l		And with presented nakedness outface
l175l		The winds and persecutions of the sky.
l176l		The country gives me proof and precedent
l177l		Of Bedlam beggars who with roaring voices
l178l		Strike in their numbed and mortifièd arms
l179l		Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary,
l180l		And with this horrible object from low farms,
l181l		Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills
l182l		Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers
l183l		Enforce their charity. “Poor Tuelygod, Poor Tom.”
l184l		That’s something yet. Edgar I nothing am.
		(Exit)
l185l		(Enter King Lear, his Fool, and the First Gentleman)
		Lear	 ’Tis strange that they should so depart from home
l186l		And not send back my messenger.
	[First] Gentleman	As I learned,
l187l		The night before there was no purpose in them
l188l		Of this remove.
	Kent	
		(waking)
		 Hail to thee, noble master.
l189l	Lear	Ha! Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime?
	Kent	No, my lord.
l190l	Fool	 Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters! Horses are tied by
l191l		the heads, dogs and bears by th’ neck, monkeys by th’
l192l		loins, and men by th’ legs. When a man’s overlusty at
l193l		legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks.
l194l	Lear	(to Kent)
		 What’s he that hath so much thy place mistook
l195l		To set thee here?
	Kent	It is both he and she:
l196l		Your son and daughter.
	Lear	No.
	Kent	Yes.
	Lear	No, I say.
l197l	Kent	I say yea.
	Lear	By Jupiter, I swear no.
l198l	Kent	By Juno, I swear ay.
	Lear	They durst not do ’t,
l199l		They could not, would not do ’t. ’Tis worse than murder,
l200l		To do upon respect such violent outrage.
l201l		Resolve me with all modest haste which way
l202l		Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage,
l203l		Coming from us.
	Kent	My lord, when at their home
l204l		I did commend your highness’ letters to them,
l205l		Ere I was risen from the place that showed
l206l		My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post
l207l		Stewed in his haste, half breathless, painting forth
l208l		From Goneril, his mistress, salutations,
l209l		Delivered letters spite of intermission,
l210l		Which presently they read, on whose contents
l211l		They summoned up their meiny, straight took horse,
l212l		Commanded me to follow and attend
l213l		The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks#
l214l		And meeting here the other messenger,
l215l		Whose welcome I perceived had poisoned mine—
l216l		Being the very fellow which of late
l217l		Displayed so saucily against your highness—
l218l		Having more man than wit about me, drew.
l219l		He raised the house with loud and coward cries.
l220l		Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
l221l		The shame which here it suffers.
l222l	Fool	 Winter’s not gone yet if the wild geese fly that way.
l223l		(Sings)
		> Fathers that wear rags
l224l		Do make their children blind,
l225l		But fathers that bear bags
l226l		Shall see their children kind.
l227l		Fortune, that arrant whore,
l228l		Ne’er turns the key to th’ poor.
l229l		But for all this thou shalt have as many dolours for
l230l		thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
l231l	Lear	 O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
l232l		Histerica passio down, thou climbing sorrow#
l233l		Thy element’s below.—Where is this daughter?
l234l	Kent	With the Earl, sir, here within.
	Lear	Follow me not# stay here.
		(Exit)
l235l	[First] Gentleman	(to Kent)
		 Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
l236l	Kent	None.
l237l		How chance the King comes with so small a number?
l238l	Fool	 An thou hadst been set i’ th’ stocks for that question,
l239l		thou’dst well deserved it.
l240l	Kent	 Why, Fool?
l241l	Fool	 We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee
l242l		there’s no labouring i’ th’ winter. All that follow their
l243l		noses are led by their eyes but blind men, and there’s
l244l		not a nose among twenty but can smell him that’s
l245l		stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs
l246l		down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following# but
l247l		the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee
l248l		after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give
l249l		me mine again. I would have none but knaves follow
l250l		it, since a fool gives it.
l251l		(Sings)
		> That sir which serves and seeks for gain
l252l		And follows but for form,
l253l		Will pack when it begin to rain,
l254l		And leave thee in the storm.
l255l		But I will tarry, the fool will stay,
l256l		And let the wise man fly.
l257l		The knave turns fool that runs away,
l258l		The fool no knave, pardie.
l259l	Kent	 Where learned you this, Fool?
l260l	Fool	Not i’ th’ stocks, fool.
		(Enter King Lear and the Duke of Gloucester)
l261l	Lear	 Deny to speak with me? They are sick, they are weary,
l262l		They have travelled all the night?—mere fetches,
l263l		The images of revolt and flying off.
l264l		Fetch me a better answer.
	Gloucester	My dear lord,
l265l		You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
l266l		How unremovable and fixed he is
l267l		In his own course.
	Lear	Vengeance, plague, death, confusion!
l268l		“Fiery”? What “quality”? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
l269l		I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
l270l	Gloucester	Well, my good lord, I have informed them so.
l271l	Lear	“Informed them”? Dost thou understand me, man?
l272l	Gloucester	Ay, my good lord.
l273l	Lear	The King would speak with Cornwall# the dear father
l274l		Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends service.
l275l		Are they “informed” of this? My breath and blood—
l276l		“Fiery”? The “fiery” Duke—tell the hot Duke that—
l277l		No, but not yet. Maybe he is not well.
l278l		Infirmity doth still neglect all office
l279l		Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves
l280l		When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind
l281l		To suffer with the body. I’ll forbear,
l282l		And am fallen out with my more headier will,
l283l		To take the indisposed and sickly fit
l284l		For the sound man.—Death on my state, wherefore
l285l		Should he sit here? This act persuades me
l286l		That this remotion of the Duke and her
l287l		Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.
l288l		Go tell the Duke and ’s wife I’d speak with them,
l289l		Now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me,
l290l		Or at their chamber door I’ll beat the drum
l291l		Till it cry sleep to death.
	Gloucester	I would have all well betwixt you.
		(Exit)
l292l	Lear	 O me, my heart! My rising heart! But down.
l293l	Fool	 Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels
l294l		when she put ’em i’ th’ paste alive. She knapped ’em
l295l		o’ th’ coxcombs with a stick, and cried “Down, wantons,
l296l		down!” ’Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his
l297l		horse, buttered his hay.
		(Enter the Duke of Cornwall, Regan, the Duke of Gloucester, and servants)
l298l	Lear	 Good morrow to you both.
l299l	Cornwall	Hail to your grace.
		(Kent here set at liberty)
l300l	Regan	 I am glad to see your highness.
l301l	Lear	Regan, I think you are. I know what reason
l302l		I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad
l303l		I would divorce me from thy mother’s shrine,
l304l		Sepulchring an adultress.
		(To Kent)
		 O, are you free?
l305l		Some other time for that.
		(Exit Kent)
		 Belovèd Regan,
l306l		Thy sister’s naught. O, Regan, she hath tied
l307l		Sharp-toothed unkindness like a vulture here.
l308l		I can scarce speak to thee. Thou’lt not believe
l309l		With how depraved a quality—O, Regan!
l310l	Regan	I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope
l311l		You less know how to value her desert
l312l		Than she to scant her duty.
	Lear	Say, how is that?
l313l	Regan	I cannot think my sister in the least
l314l		Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance
l315l		She have restrained the riots of your followers,
l316l		’Tis on such ground and to such wholesome end
l317l		As clears her from all blame.
l318l	Lear	My curses on her.
l319l	Regan	O sir, you are old.
l320l		Nature in you stands on the very verge
l321l		Of his confine. You should be ruled and led
l322l		By some discretion that discerns your state
l323l		Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you
l324l		That to our sister you do make return#
l325l		Say you have wronged her.
	Lear	Ask her forgiveness?
l326l		Do you but mark how this becomes the house?
l327l		(Kneeling)
		 “Dear daughter, I confess that I am old.
l328l		Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg
l329l		That you’ll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.”
l330l	Regan	Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks.
l331l		Return you to my sister.
	Lear	
		(rising)
		 Never, Regan.
l332l		She hath abated me of half my train,
l333l		Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue
l334l		Most serpent-like upon the very heart.
l335l		All the stored vengeances of heaven fall
l336l		On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
l337l		You taking airs, with lameness!
	Cornwall	Fie, sir, fie.
l338l	Lear	You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
l339l		Into her scornful eyes. Infect her beauty,
l340l		You fen-sucked fogs drawn by the pow’rful sun
l341l		To fall and blister.
	Regan	O, the blest gods!
l342l		So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on.
l343l	Lear	No, Regan. Thou shalt never have my curse.
l344l		Thy tender-hafted nature shall not give
l345l		Thee o’er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce, but thine
l346l		Do comfort and not burn. ’Tis not in thee
l347l		To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
l348l		To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
l349l		And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
l350l		Against my coming in. Thou better know’st
l351l		The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
l352l		Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude.
l353l		Thy half o’ th’ kingdom hast thou not forgot,
l354l		Wherein I thee endowed.
	Regan	Good sir, to th’ purpose.
l355l	Lear	Who put my man i’ th’ stocks?
		(Tucket within)
		
	Cornwall	 What trumpet’s that?
		(Enter Oswald the steward)
l356l	Regan	 I know ’t, my sister’s. This approves her letter
l357l		That she would soon be here.
		(To Oswald)
		 Is your lady come?
l358l	Lear	This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride
l359l		Dwells in the sickly grace of her a follows.
l360l		(To Oswald)
		 Out, varlet, from my sight!
	Cornwall	What means your grace?
		(Enter Goneril)
l361l	Lear	 Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope
l362l		Thou didst not know on ’t. Who comes here? O heavens,
l363l		If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
l364l		Allow obedience, if you yourselves are old,
l365l		Make it your cause! Send down and take my part.
l366l		(To Goneril)
		 Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?
l367l		O Regan, will you take her by the hand?
l368l	Goneril	Why not by th’ hand, sir? How have I offended?
l369l		All’s not offence that indiscretion finds
l370l		And dotage terms so.
	Lear	O sides, you are too tough!
l371l		Will you yet hold?—How came my man i’ th’ stocks?
l372l	Cornwall	I set him there, sir# but his own disorders
l373l		Deserved much less advancement.
	Lear	You? Did you?
l374l	Regan	I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
l375l		If till the expiration of your month
l376l		You will return and sojourn with my sister,
l377l		Dismissing half your train, come then to me.
l378l		I am now from home, and out of that provision
l379l		Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
l380l	Lear	Return to her, and fifty men dismissed?
l381l		No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
l382l		To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,
l383l		To wage against the enmity o’ th’ air
l384l		Necessity’s sharp pinch. Return with her?
l385l		Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
l386l		Our youngest born—I could as well be brought
l387l		To knee his throne and, squire-like, pension beg
l388l		To keep base life afoot. Return with her?
l389l		Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
l390l		To this detested groom.
	Goneril	At your choice, sir.
l391l	Lear	I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad.
l392l		I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell.
l393l		We’ll no more meet, no more see one another.
l394l		But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter—
l395l		Or rather a disease that’s in my flesh,
l396l		Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil,
l397l		A plague-sore or embossèd carbuncle
l398l		In my corrupted blood. But I’ll not chide thee.
l399l		Let shame come when it will, I do not call it.
l400l		I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
l401l		Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
l402l		Mend when thou canst# be better at thy leisure.
l403l		I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
l404l		I and my hundred knights.
	Regan	Not altogether so.
l405l		I looked not for you yet, nor am provided
l406l		For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister#
l407l		For those that mingle reason with your passion
l408l		Must be content to think you old, and so—
l409l		But she knows what she does.
	Lear	Is this well spoken?
l410l	Regan	I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers?
l411l		Is it not well? What should you need of more,
l412l		Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
l413l		Speak ’gainst so great a number? How in one house
l414l		Should many people under two commands
l415l		Hold amity? ’Tis hard, almost impossible.
l416l	Goneril	Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
l417l		From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
l418l	Regan	Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack ye,
l419l		We could control them. If you will come to me—
l420l		For now I spy a danger—I entreat you
l421l		To bring but five-and-twenty# to no more
l422l		Will I give place or notice.
l423l	Lear	I gave you all.
l424l	Regan	And in good time you gave it.
l425l	Lear	Made you my guardians, my depositaries,
l426l		But kept a reservation to be followed
l427l		With such a number. What, must I come to you
l428l		With five-and-twenty? Regan, said you so?
l429l	Regan	And speak ’t again, my lord. No more with me.
l430l	Lear	Those wicked creatures yet do look well favoured
l431l		When others are more wicked. Not being the worst
l432l		Stands in some rank of praise.
		(To Goneril)
		 I’ll go with thee.
l433l		Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,
l434l		And thou art twice her love.
	Goneril	Hear me, my lord.
l435l		What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,
l436l		To follow in a house where twice so many
l437l		Have a command to tend you?
	Regan	What need one?
l438l	Lear	O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars
l439l		Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
l440l		Allow not nature more than nature needs,
l441l		Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. Thou art a lady.
l442l		If only to go warm were gorgeous,
l443l		Why, nature needs not what thou, gorgeous, wear’st,
l444l		Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But for true need—
l445l		You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need.
l446l		You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
l447l		As full of grief as age, wretchèd in both.
l448l		If it be you that stirs these daughters’ hearts
l449l		Against their father, fool me not so much
l450l		To bear it tamely. Touch me with noble anger,
l451l		And let not women’s weapons, water-drops,
l452l		Stain my man’s cheeks. No, you unnatural hags,
l453l		I will have such revenges on you both
l454l		That all the world shall—I will do such things—
l455l		What they are, yet I know not# but they shall be
l456l		The terrors of the earth. You think I’ll weep.
l457l		No, I’ll not weep. I have full cause of weeping,
		(Storm and tempest)
l458l		But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
l459l		Or ere I’ll weep.—O Fool, I shall go mad!
		(Exeunt Lear, Fool, Gentleman, and Gloucester)
l460l	Cornwall	 Let us withdraw. ’Twill be a storm.
l461l	Regan	This house is little. The old man and ’s people
l462l		Cannot be well bestowed.
	Goneril	’Tis his own blame#
l463l		Hath put himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.
l464l	Regan	For his particular I’ll receive him gladly,
l465l		But not one follower.
	Goneril	So am I purposed.
l466l		Where is my lord of Gloucester?
l467l	Cornwall	Followed the old man forth.
		(Enter the Duke of Gloucester)
		 He is returned.
l468l	Gloucester	The King is in high rage.
	Cornwall	Whither is he going?
l469l	Gloucester	He calls to horse, but will I know not whither.
l470l	Cornwall	’Tis best to give him way. He leads himself.
l471l	Goneril	(to Gloucester)
		 My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
l472l	Gloucester	Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds
l473l		Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about
l474l		There’s scarce a bush.
	Regan	O sir, to wilful men
l475l		The injuries that they themselves procure
l476l		Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors.
l477l		He is attended with a desperate train,
l478l		And what they may incense him to, being apt
l479l		To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.
l480l	Cornwall	Shut up your doors, my lord. ’Tis a wild night.
l481l		My Regan counsels well. Come out o’ th’ storm.
		(Exeunt)