Gon. By day and night he wrongs me; every hour

He flashes into one gross crime or other,

That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids

us

On every trifle.-When he returns from hunting
I will not speak with him; say, I am sick :-
If you come slack of former services

You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.
Stew. He's coming, madam; I hear him.
[Horns within.

Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question:

If he distaste it, let him to my sister,

Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be overruled. Idle old man,

That still would manage those authorities
That he hath given away!-Now, by my life,
Old fools are babes again; and must be used
With checks, as flatteries,-when they are seen
abused.

Remember what I have said.

Stew.

Well, madam.

Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among you; what grows of it no matter; advise your fellows so: I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, that I may speak :-I'll write straight to my sister, to hold my course. -Prepare for dinner.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Hall in the same.

Enter KENT, disguised.

Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, That can my speech diffuse, my good intent May carry through itself to that full issue For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,

If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,

So may it come thy master, whom thou lov'st, Shall find thee full of labours.

Horns within. Enter LEAR, Knights, and Attendants.

Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go, get it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How now, what art thou?

Kent. A man, sir.

Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?

Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust; to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish. Lear. What art thou?

Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.

Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

Kent. Service.

Lear. Who wouldst thou serve?

Kent. You.

Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow?

Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master. Lear. What's that?

Kent. Authority.

Lear. What services canst thou do?

Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly; that which ordinary men are fit for I am qualified in: and the best of me is diligence.

Lear. How old art thou?

Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for anything: I have years on my back forty-eight.

Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me; if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet.-Dinner, ho, dinner.-Where's my knave? my fool? Go you, and call my fool hither. [Exit an Attendant.

Enter Steward.

You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?

Stew. So please you,—

[Exit.

Lear. What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back. [Exit a Knight.]-Where's my fool, ho?—I think the world's asleep.

Re-enter Knight.

How now, where's that mongrel?

Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I called him?

Knight. Sir, he answered 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 entertained 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! sayest thou so?

Knight. I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged.

Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine own conception: I have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity, 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 this 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. [Exit an Attendant.]-Go you, call hither my fool.— [Exit an Attendant.

Re-enter Steward.

O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I, sir?

Stew. My lady's father.

Lear. My lady's father! my lord's knave: you whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! Stew. I am none of these, my lord: I beseech your pardon.

Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? [Striking him.

Stew. I'll not be strucken, my lord.

Kent. Nor tripped neither; you base football player. [Tripping up his heels. Lear. I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love thee.

Kent. Come, sir, arise, away; I'll teach you differences; away, away. If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry: but away: go to; have you wisdom? so.

[Pushes the Steward out. Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's earnest of thy service. [Giving KENT money.

Enter Fool.

Fool. Let me hire him, too;-here's my coxcomb. [Giving KENT his cap. Lear. How now, my pretty knave? how dost thou?

Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. Why? For taking one's part that's out of favour. Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has banish'd two of his daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.-How now, nuncle? 'Would I had two coxcombs, and two daughters! Lear. Why, my boy?

Fool. If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my coxcombs myself: there's mine; beg another of thy daughters.

Lear. Take heed, sirrah; the whip.

Fool. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out, when the lady brach may stand by the fire and stink.