Lear.
Ha, ha, ha!
Fool. Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though she’s as like this as a crab’s like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
Lear.
What canst tell, boy?
Fool. She’ll taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one’s nose stands i’ the middle on’s face?
Lear.
No.
Fool. Why, to keep one’s eyes of either side’s nose, that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.
Lear.
I did her wrong,—
Fool.
Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.
Lear.
Why?
Fool. Why, to put’s head in; not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case.
Lear.
I will forget my nature. So kind a father!—Be my horses ready?
Fool. Thy asses are gone about ‘em. The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.
Lear.
Because they are not eight?
Fool.
Yes indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool.
Lear.
To tak’t again perforce!—Monster ingratitude!
Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I’ld have thee beaten for being old before thy time.
Lear.
How’s that?
Fool.
Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.
Lear.
O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!—
[Enter Gentleman.]
How now? are the horses ready?
Gent.
Ready, my lord.
Lear.
Come, boy.
Fool.
She that’s a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II.
SCENE I. A court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloster.
[Enter Edmund and Curan, meeting.]
Edm.
Save thee, Curan.
Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him this night.
Edm.
How comes that?
Cur. Nay, I know not.—You have heard of the news abroad; I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments?
Edm.
Not I: pray you, what are they?
Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, ‘twixt the two dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Edm.
Not a word.
Cur.
You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir.
[Exit.]
Edm.
The Duke be here tonight? The better! best!
This weaves itself perforce into my business.
My father hath set guard to take my brother;
And I have one thing, of a queasy question,
Which I must act:—briefness and fortune work!—
Brother, a word!—descend:—brother, I say!
[Enter Edgar.]
My father watches:—sir, fly this place;
Intelligence is given where you are hid;
You have now the good advantage of the night.—
Have you not spoken ‘gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
He’s coming hither; now, i’ the night, i’ the haste,
And Regan with him: have you nothing said
Upon his party ‘gainst the Duke of Albany?
Advise yourself.
Edg.
I am sure on’t, not a word.
Edm.
I hear my father coming:—pardon me;
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you:—
Draw: seem to defend yourself: now quit you well.—
Yield:—come before my father.—Light, ho, here!
Fly, brother.—Torches, torches!—So farewell.
[Exit Edgar.]
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeavour: [Wounds his arm.]
I have seen drunkards
Do more than this in sport.—Father, father!
Stop, stop! No help?
[Enter Gloster, and Servants with torches.]
Glou.
Now, Edmund, where’s the villain?
Edm.
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand auspicious mistress,—
Glou.
But where is he?
Edm.
Look, sir, I bleed.
Glou.
Where is the villain, Edmund?
Edm.
Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could,—
Glou.
Pursue him, ho!—Go after.
[Exeunt Servants.]
—By no means what?
Edm.
Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;
But that I told him the revenging gods
‘Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
The child was bound to the father;—sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion