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Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks?
Corn.

What trumpet's that?

Enter Steward.

Reg. I know't, my sister's;. this approves her

letter, That she would soon be here.—Is your lady come?

Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows:Out, varlet, from my sight! Corn.

What means your grace? Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have

good hope Thou didst not know of't.-Who comes here? O

heavens,

Enter Goneril. If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, Make it your cause; send down, and take my

part!Art not asham'd to look upon this beard :

[to Gon. O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand ? Gon. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I

offended?
All's not offence, that indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms so.
Lear.

O, sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold?-How came my man i’ the

stocks? Corn. I set him there, sir: but his own disorders

Desery'd much less advancement.
Lear.

You! did you?
Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me;
I am now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismissid? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o' the air; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, Necessity's sharp pinch !—Return with her? Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took Our youngest born, I could as well be brought To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg To keep base life a-foot:-Return with her? Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter To this detested

groom. [Looking on the Steward. Gon.

At your choice, sir. Lear. I proythee, daughter, do not make me

mad;

I will not trouble thee, my child; farewel:
We'll no more meet, no more see one another:-
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh, ,
Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil,
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:

Reg.

Mend, when thou canst; be better, at thy leisure:
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I, and my hundred knights.

Not altogether so, sir;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome: Give ear, sir, to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so
But she knows what she does.
Lear.

Is this well spoke now? Reg. I dare ayouch it, sir: What, fifty followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many? sith that both charge and danger Speak ’gainst so great a number? How, in one

house, Should many people, under two commands, Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible. Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive at

tendance From those that she calls servants, or from mine? Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd

to slack you, We could control them: If you will come to me, (For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you To bring but five and twenty; to no more Will I give place, or notice.

Lear. I gave you all-
Reg.

And in good time you gave it.
Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be follow'd
With such a number: What, must I come to you
With five and twenty, Regan? said you

so?

Reg. And speak it again, my lord; no more with

me.

Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well

favour'd, When others are more wicked; not being the

worst, Stands in some rank of praise:—I'll go with thee;

[To Goneril.
Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,
And thou art twice her love.
Gon.

Hear me, my lord;
What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?
Reg.

What need one?
Lear. O, reason not the need: our basest beg-

gars Are in the poorest thing superfluous: Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's: thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wearist, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.—But, for true

need, You heavens, give me that patience, patience I

need! You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both! If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger! 0, let not women's weapons, water-drops,

Stain my man's cheeks!—No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall-I will do such things,-
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll' weep;
No, I'll not weep:
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep :--0, fool, I shall go mad!

[Exeunt Lear, Glo'ster, Kent, and Fool. Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm.

[Storm heard at a distance. Reg.

This house Is little; the old man and his people cannot Be well bestow’d. Gon.

'Tis his own blame; he hath put Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.

Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, But not one follower. Gon.

So am I purpos’d. Where is my lord of Glo'ster?

Re-enter Glo'ster. Corn. Follow'd the old man forth:-he is re

turn'd. Glo. The king is in high rage. Corn.

Whither is he going? Glo. He calls to horse; but will I know not whi

ther. Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads him

self. Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stav

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