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Glos. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd

them so.

Lear. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man ?

Glos. Ay, my good lord.

Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father

Would with his daughter speak, commands her ser

vice :

Are they inform'd of this ?-My breath and blood!—
Fiery? the fiery duke ?-Tell the hot duke, that
No, but not yet:-may be, he is not well:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office,

Whereto our health is bound; we are not our

selves,

When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;

And am fallen out with my more headier will,

To take the indisposed and sickly fit

For the sound man.-Death on my state! where

fore

[looking on Kent.

Should he sit here? This act persuades me,

That this remotion1 of the duke and her

Is practice 2 only. Give me my servant forth :
Go, tell the duke and his wife I'd speak with

them,

Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me, Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum,

1 i. e. removal from their own house.

2 Artifice.

Till it cry, Sleep to death.'

Glos. I'd have all well betwixt you.

[Exit.

Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart!-but,

down.

Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels, when she put them i' the paste alive: she rapped 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, 'Down, wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother, that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and Servants.

Lear. Good morrow to you both.

Corn.

Hail to your grace!

[Kent is set at liberty.

Re. I am glad to see your highness.

Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what

reason

I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adulteress.-O, are you free?—
[to Kent.

Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here.-
[points to his heart.
I can scarce speak to thee; thou 'It not believe,
Of how depraved a quality-O Regan!

Re. I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.

Lear.

Say, how is that?

Re. I cannot think, my sister in the least Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance, She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,

'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My curses on her!

Re.

O, sir, you are old;
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be ruled, and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself: therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;

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Say, you have wrong'd her, sir.

Lear.

Ask her forgiveness?

Do you but mark how this becomes the house?

Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;

Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg, [kneeling. That you 'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.'

Re. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks:

Return you to my sister.

Lear.

Never, Regan:

She hath abated me of half my train;

Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart.

All the stored vengeances of Heaven fall

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,

The order of families.

You taking airs, with lameness!

Corn.

Fie, fie, fie!

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames

Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
To fall and blast her pride!

O the bless'd gods!

Re. So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on. Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my

curse:

Thy tender-hefted1 nature shall not give

Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn: 'tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,2
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in: thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude:

Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.

Re..

Good sir, to the purpose.

[trumpets within.

What trumpet's that?

Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks?

Corn.

1

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• Hefted seems to mean the same as heaved. Tenderhefted,' i. e. whose bosom is agitated by tender passions.'Steevens. ? To contract my allowances.

Enter STEWARD.

Re. 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 1 obedience, if yourselves are old,

Make it your cause; send down, and take my

part!

Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?—

[to Goneril.

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!

I Approve.

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