Horns within. Enter Lear, Knights and Atte Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner, go, get How now, what art thou ? Kent. A man, Sir. Lear. What dost thou profess? what woul with us? Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem; him truly, that will put me in trust; to love hi honest; to converse with him that is wife and tle; to fear judgment; to fight when I cann and to eat no fish. Lear. What art thou? Kent. A very honeft-hearted fellow, and as the King. Lear. If thou beest as poor for a subject, as a King, thou art poor enough. What would Kent. Service. Lear. Whom would'st thou serve? Lear. Doft thou know me, fellow? Kent. Authority. Lear. What services canst thou do? Kent. I can keep honeft counsels, ride, run, curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I lify'd in; and the best of me is diligence. Lear. How old art thou? Kent. Not so young, Sir, to love a woman 1 ing; nor so old, to doat on her for any thing. years on my back forty eight. Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serve me; if I l no worse after dinner, I will not part from th Dinner, ho, dinner where's my knave? m go you, and call my fool hither. You, you, where's my daughter? Enter Steward. Stew. So please you[Exit. Lear. What says the fellow there? call the clotpole back: where's my fool, ho?- I think, the world's afleep: how now? where's that mungrel? Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. Lear. Why came not the flave back to me when I call'd him? Knight. Sir, he answer'd me in the roundest manner, he would not. Lear. He would not? Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my Judgment, your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants, as in the Duke himself also, and your daughter. Lear. Ha! say'st thou so? Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be filent, when I think your Highness is wrong'd. Lear. Thou but remember'st me of my own conception. I have perceiv'd a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as my own jealous curiofity, than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness; I will look further into't; but where's my fool? I have not seen him these two days. Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, Sir, the fool hath much pined away. Lear. No more of that, I have noted it well; go you and tell my daughter, I would speak with her. Go you, call hither my fool. O, you, Sir, come you hither, Sir; who am I, Sir? Enter Steward. Stew. My lady's father. Lear. My lady's father? my lord's knave!-you whoreson dog, you flave, you cur, Stew. Stew. I am none of these, my lord; I bef pardon. Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you You [St Stew. I'll not be struck, my lord. Kent. Nor tript neither, you base foot-bal [Tripping u Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st m love thee. Kent. Come, Sir, arise, away; I'll teach rences: away, away; if you will measure you length again, tarry; but away, go to: have dom? fo. [Pushes the Sto Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank the earnest of thy service. To them, Enter Fool. Fool. Let me hire him too, here's my coxc Lear. How now, my pretty knave? how d Fool. Why? for taking one's part, that is vour; nay, an thou canst not fmile as the thou'lt catch cold shortly. There, take my why, this fellow has banish'd two of his daug did the third a blessing against his will; if low him, thou must needs wear my coxcom now, nuncle? would, I had two coxcombs, daughters. Lear. Why, my boy ? Fool. If I give them all my living, I'll coxcomb my felf; there's mine, beg anoth daughters. Lear. Take heed, Sirrah, the whip. Fool. Truth's a dog must to kennel, he whip'd out, when the lady brach may stand and stink. Lear. A pestilent gall to me. Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. } i Lear. Do. Fool. Mark it, nuncle; Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, And keep within door, And thou shalt have more Kent. This is nothing, fool. Fool. Then it is like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer, you gave me nothing for't; can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. Fool. Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to: he will not believe a fool. Lear. A bitter fool! [To Kent, Fool. Doft thou know the difference, my boy, be tween a bitter fool and a sweet one? Lear. No lad, teach me. (Land, (10) Fool. That Lord, that counsel'd thee to give away thy The One, in motley here; the Other, found out there, Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with. Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. Fool. No, faith; Lords, and great men will not let me; if I had a monopoly on't, they would have part on't: nay, the Ladies too, they'll not let me have all fool to myself, they'll be snatching. (10) Fool. That Lord, that counsel'd thee - These four lines I have restor'd from the old 4to; and, surely, the retrenchment of them by the players was very injudicious. For, without them, how very abfurdly does Lear reply, Doft thou call me fool, boy? VOL. VI. B Give Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee tw Lear. What two crowns shall they be? Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' m eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg: v clovest thy Crown i'th' middle and gav'ist a parts, thou bor'st thine ass on thy back o'er thou had'st little wit in thy bald crown, w gav'st thy golden one away: if I speak like this, let him be whip'd that first finds it so. Fools ne'er had less grace in a year, Lear. When were you wont to be so full firrah? Fool. I have used it, nuncle, e'er fince th thy daughters thy mothers; for when thou g the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches Then they for fudden joy did weep, And I for forrow fung; That such a King should play bo-peep, And go the fools among, Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a school-master that thy fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie. Lear. If you lie, firrah, we'll have you w Fool, I marvel, what kin thou and thy are: they'll have me whipt for speaking tru have me whipt for lying; and, fometimes, I for holding my peace. I had rather be any ki than a fool, and yet I would not be thee, nu hait pared thy wit o'both fides, and left not middle; here comes one o' th' parings. To them, Enter Gonerill, Lear, How now, daughter, what makes let on? you are too much of late i' th' frowr Fool. Thou waft a pretty fellow, when the need to care for her frowning; now thou art |