King Lear

should, the fault
Would not ’scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence,
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding. Fool

For, you trow, nuncle,
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it’s had it head bit off by it young.
So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.

King Lear Are you our daughter? Goneril

Come, sir,
I would you would make use of that good wisdom,
Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away
These dispositions, that of late transform you
From what you rightly are.

Fool May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee. King Lear

Doth any here know me? This is not Lear:
Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
Either his notion weakens, his discernings
Are lethargied⁠—Ha! waking? ’tis not so.
Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Fool Lear’s shadow. King Lear I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters. Fool Which they will make an obedient father. King Lear Your name, fair gentlewoman? Goneril

This admiration, sir, is much o’ the savour
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
To understand my purposes aright:
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder’d, so debosh’d and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy: be then desired
By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
A little to disquantity your train;
And the remainder, that shall still depend,
To be such men as may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.

King Lear

Darkness and devils!
Saddle my horses; call my train together:
Degenerate bastard! I’ll not trouble thee.
Yet have I left a daughter.

Goneril

You strike my people; and your disorder’d rabble
Make servants of their betters.

Enter Albany. King Lear

Woe, that too late repents⁠—
To Albany. O, sir, are you come?
Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses.
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous when thou show’st thee in a child
Than the sea-monster!

Albany Pray, sir, be patient. King Lear

To Goneril. Detested kite! thou liest.
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know,
And in the most exact regard support
The worships of their name. O most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
That, like an engine, wrench’d my frame of nature
From the fix’d place; drew from heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, Striking his head.
And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.

Albany

My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath moved you.

King Lear

It may be so, my lord.
Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful!
Into her womb convey sterility!
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
And be a thwart disnatured torment to her!
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother’s pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
To have a thankless child! Away, away! Exit.

Albany Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? Goneril

Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
But let his disposition have that scope
That dotage gives it.

Re-enter King Lear. King Lear

What, fifty of my followers at a clap!
Within a fortnight!

Albany What’s the matter, sir? King Lear

I’ll tell thee: To Goneril.
Life and death! I am ashamed
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!
The untented woundings of a father’s curse
Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again, I’ll pluck ye out,
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this?
Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter,
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable:
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She’ll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
That I’ll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever: thou shalt,
I warrant thee. Exeunt King Lear, Kent, and Attendants.

Goneril Do you mark that, my lord? Albany

I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
To the great love I bear you⁠—

Goneril Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho! To the Fool. You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master. Fool

Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and 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.

Goneril

This man hath had good counsel:⁠—a hundred knights!
’Tis politic and safe to let him keep
At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream,
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!

Albany Well, you may fear too far. Goneril

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 sustain him and his hundred knights
When I have show’d the unfitness⁠—

Re-enter Oswald.

How now, Oswald!
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

Oswald Yes, madam. Goneril

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. Exit Oswald.

No, no, my lord,
This milky gentleness and course of yours
Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,
You are