• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.'

Reg. Good sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks.

Return you to my sister.

Lear. [rises] 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 stor'd vengeances of heaven 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 scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,

You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful sun,

To fall and blast her pride!

Reg. O the blest gods! so will you wish on me

When the rash mood is on.

Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse.

Thy tender-hefted 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,

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' th' kingdom hast thou not forgot,

Wherein I thee endow'd.

Reg. Good sir, to th' purpose.

Tucket within.

Lear. Who put my man i' th' stocks?

Corn. What trumpet's that?

Reg. I know't- my sister's. This approves her letter,

That she would soon be here.

Enter [Oswald the] Steward.

Is your lady come?

Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrowed pride

Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.

Out, varlet, from my sight!

Corn. What means your Grace?

Enter Goneril.

Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope

Thou didst not know on't.- Who comes here? O heavens!

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!

[To Goneril] Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?-

O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

Gon. Why not by th' 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' th' stocks?

Corn. I set him there, sir; but his own disorders

Deserv'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 dismiss'd?

No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose

To wage against the enmity o' th' 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 afoot. Return with her?

Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter

To this detested groom. [Points at Oswald.]

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 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.

Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure;

I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,

I and my hundred knights.

Reg. Not altogether so.

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 spoken?

Reg. I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers?