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his Brother, that in pure kindness to his Horfe buttered his

Hay.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Glofter, and Servants. Lear. Good Morrow to you both.

Corn. Hail to your Grace.

[Kent is fet at liberty. Reg. I am glad to fee your Highness.

[To Kent.

Lear. Regan, I think you are, I know what reason
I have to think fo, if thou fhouldft not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy Mother's Tomb,
Sepulchring an Adulterefs. O, are you free?
Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
Thy Sifter's naught: Oh Regan, fhe hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindnefs, like a Vulture, here;
I can fcarce fpeak to thee, thou'lt not believe
With how deprav'd a quality---Oh Regan!-
Reg. I pray you, Sir, take patience, I have hope
You lefs know how to value her defert,
Than fhe to fcant her Duty.

Lear. Say? How is that?

Reg. I cannot think my Sifter in the leaft
Would fail her Obligation. If, Sir, perchance
She have reftrain'd the Riots of your Followers,
'Tis on fuch Ground, and to fuch wholefom end,
As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My Curses on her.
Reg. O Sir, you are old,

Nature in you ftands on the very Verge
Of her confine; you should be rul'd and led
By fome difcretion, that difcerns your State
Better than you your felf: Therefore I pray you,
That to our Sifter you do make return,
Say you have wrong'd her.

Lear. Ask her forgiveness?

Do you but mark how this becomes the Houfe?
Dear Daughter, I confess that I am old;

Age is unneceffary: On my Knees I beg,

That you'll vouchfafe me Raiment, Bed, and Food.
Reg. Good Sir, no more; thefe are unfightly Tricks:
Return you to my Sifter.

Lear. Never, Regan:

She hath abated me of half

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Look'd black upon me, ftruck me with her Tongue
Moft Serpent-like, upon the very heart.

All the ftor'd vengeances of Heav'n fall

On her ingrateful top: Strike her young bones,
You taking Airs, with Lameness.

Corn. Fie, Sir! fie!

Lear. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her fcornful Eyes: Infect her Beauty,

You Fen-fuck'd Fogs, drawn by the powerful Sun
To fall, and blifter.

Reg. O the bleft Gods!

So will you with on me, when the rafh mood is on.
Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse:
Thy tender-hefted Nature fhall not give

Thee o'er to harfhnefs; Her Eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my Pleafures, to cut off my Train,
To bandy hafty words, to fcant my fizes,
And in conclufion, to oppofe the bolt
Against my coming in. Thou better know'st
The Offices of Nature, Bond of Child-hood,
Effects of Courtefie, and Dues of Gratitude:
Thy half o'ch' Kingdom haft thou not forgot,
Wherein, I thee endow'd.

Reg. Good Sir, to th' purpose.
Lear. Who put my Man i'th' Stocks?

Enter Steward.

Corn. What Trumpet's that?

[Trumpet within.

Reg. I know't, my Sifter's: This approves her Letter, That he would foon be here. Is your Lady come? Lear. This is a Slave, whofe eafie borrowed pride Dwells in the fickly grace of her he follows.

Out Varler, from my fight.

Corn. What means your Grace?

Enter Gonerill.

Lear. Who ftockt my Servant? Regan, I have grod hope Thou didst not know on't.

Who comes here? O Heav'ns!

If you do love old Men; if your sweet fway
Allow Obedience; if you your felves are old,

Make it your caufe: Send down and take my part.
VOL. V.

Ff

Art

Art not asham'd to look upon this Beard?
O Regan, will you take her by the Hand?

Gon. Why not by th' hand, Sir? How have I offended? All's not offence that indifcretion finds,

And dotage terms fo.

Lear. Ŏ fides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold? How came my Man i'th' Stocks?

Corn. I fet him there, Sir: But his own Disorders Deferv'd much lefs advancement.

Lear. You? Did you?

Reg. I pray you, Father, being weak, feem fo.
If, 'till the expiration of your Month,
You will return and fojourn with my Sifter,
Difmiffing half your train, come then to me,
I am now from home, and out of that provifion,
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
Lear. Return to her? and fifty Men difmifs'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chufe
To wage against the enmity o'th' Air,

To be a Comerade with the Wolf and Owl,
Neceffity's fharp pinch- -Return with her?
Why? The hot-bloody'd France, that Dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his Throne, and Squire-like Penfion beg,
To keep bafe Life a-foot; return with her?
Perfwade me rather to be Slave and Sumpter
To this detefted Groom.

Gon. At your choice, Sir.

Lear. I prithee, Daughter, do not make me mad,
I will not trouble thee, my Child. Farewell:
We'll no more meet, no more fee one another,
But yet thou art my Flefh, my Blood, my Daughter,
Or rather a difeafe that's in my flesh,

Which I must needs call mine; Thou art a Bile,
A plague-fore, or imboffed Carbuncle

In my corrupted blood; but I'll not chide thee.
Let fhame come when it will, I do not call it, {
I do not bid the Thunder-Bearer fhoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
Mend when thou canft, be better at thy leifure,

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I can be patient, I can ftay with Regan,
I and my hundred Knights.
Reg. Not altogether fo,

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided

For your fit welcome; give ear, Sir, to my Sifter;
For those that mingle reafon with your paffion,
Must be content to think you old, and fo-
But he knows what the does.

Lear. Is this well spoken?

Reg. I dare avouch it, Sir; what, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or fo many? Sith that both charge and danger,
Speak 'gainst fo great a number: How in one houfe
Should many People, under two commands,
Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almoft impoffible.

Gon. Why might not you, my Lord, receive attendance From thofe that the calls fervants, or from mine?

Reg. Why not, my Lord? If then they chanc'd to flack ye

We could controll them; if you will come to me,

For now Ifpy a danger, I intreat 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 Depofitaries,
But keep a refervation to be followed

With fuch a number; What must I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, faid you fo?

Reg. And fpeak't again, my Lord, no more with me.
Lear. Thofe wicked Creatures yet do look well-favour'd
When others are more wicked, not being the worst
Stands in fome rank of praife; I'll go with thee,
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 houfe, where twice fo many,

Have a command to tend you?

Reg. What need one?

Lear. O reafon not the need: Our bafeft Beggars Are in the pooreft thing fuperfluous ;

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Allow

Allow not Nature, more than Nature needs,
Man's Life is cheap as Beafts. Thou art a Lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm; but for true need,
You Heav'ns, give me that patience, patience I need,
You fee me here, you Gods, a poor old Man,
As full of Grief as Age, wretched in both,
If it be you that ftir these Daughters hearts
Against their Father, fool me not fo much,
To bear it tamely: Touch me with noble Anger,
And let not Womens weapons, water drops,
Stain my Man's cheeks. No, you unnatural Hags,
I will have fuch revenges on you both,

That all the World fhall-I will do fuch things,
What they are yet, I know not, but they fhall be
The terrors of the Earth; you think I'll weep,
No, I'll not weep, I have full caufe of weeping.

[Storm and Tempest.
But this Heart fhall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or e'er I weep. O Fool, I shall go mad.
Cron. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a Storm.

[Exeunt.

Reg. This Houfe is little, the old Man and's People Cannot be well beftow'd.

Gon. 'Tis his own blame hath put himself from reft, And muft needs tafte 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 Glofter?

Enter Glofter.

Corn. Followed the old Man forth; he is return'd.
Glo. The King is in high rage.

Corn. Whither is he going?

Glo. He calls to Horfe, but will I know not whither. Corn. 'Tis beft to give him way, he leads himself. Gon. My Lord, intreat him by no means to stay. Glo. Alack, the Night comes on: and the high winds Do forely ruffle, for many Miles about

There's fcarce a Bufh.

Reg. O Sir, to wilful Men,

The

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