第 5 节

r. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect, as hee's for a King, thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou? Kent. Seruice

Lear. Who wouldst thou serue? Kent. You

Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow? Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance, which I would faine call Master

Lear. What's that? Kent. Authority

Lear. What seruices canst thou do? Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a curious tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am quallified in, and the best of me, is Dilligence

Lear. How old art thou? Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on my backe forty eight

Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner ho, dinner, where's my knaue? my Foole? Go you and call my Foole hither. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter? Enter Steward.

Ste. So please you- Enter.

Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clotpole backe: wher's my Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's asleepe, how now? Where's that Mungrell? Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well

Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I call'd him? Knigh. 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 iudgement your Highnesse is not entertain'd with that Ceremonious affection as you were wont, theres a great abatement of kindnesse appeares as well in the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also, and your Daughter

Lear. Ha? Saist thou so? Knigh. I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent, when I thinke your Highnesse wrong'd

Lear. Thou but remembrest me of mine owne Conception, I haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late, which I haue rather blamed as mine owne iealous curiositie, then as a very pretence and purpose of vnkindnesse; I will looke further intoo't: but where's my Foole? I haue not seene him this two daies

Knight. Since my young Ladies going into France Sir, the Foole hath much pined away

Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it well, goe you and tell my Daughter, I would speake with her. Goe you call hither my Foole; Oh you Sir, you, come you hither Sir, who am I Sir? Enter Steward.

Ste. My Ladies Father

Lear. My Ladies Father? my Lords knaue, you whorson dog, you slaue, you curre

Ste. I am none of these my Lord, I beseech your pardon

Lear. Do you bandy lookes with me, you Rascall? Ste. Ile not be strucken my Lord

Kent. Nor tript neither, you base Foot-ball plaier

Lear. I thanke thee fellow. Thou seru'st me, and Ile loue thee

Kent. Come sir, arise, away, Ile teach you differences: away, away, if you will measure your lubbers length againe, tarry, but away, goe too, haue you wisedome, so

Lear. Now my friendly knaue I thanke thee, there's earnest of thy seruice. Enter Foole.

Foole. Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcombe

Lear. How now my pretty knaue, how dost thou? Foole. Sirrah, you were best take my Coxcombe

Lear. Why my Boy? Foole. Why? for taking ones part that's out of fauour, nay, & thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch colde shortly, there take my Coxcombe; why this fellow ha's banish'd two on's Daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will, if thou follow him, thou must needs weare my Coxcombe. How now Nunckle? would I had two Coxcombes and two Daughters

Lear. Why my Boy? Fool. If I gaue them all my liuing, I'ld keepe my Coxcombes my selfe, there's mine, beg another of thy Daughters

Lear. Take heed Sirrah, the whip

Foole. Truth's a dog must to kennell, hee must bee whipt out, when the Lady Brach may stand by'th' fire and stinke

Lear. A pestilent gall to me

Foole. Sirha, Ile teach thee a speech

Lear. Do

Foole. Marke it Nuncle; Haue more then thou showest, Speake lesse then thou knowest, Lend lesse then thou owest, Ride more then thou goest, Learne more then thou trowest, Set lesse then thou throwest; Leaue thy drinke and thy whore, And keepe in a dore, And thou shalt haue more, Then two tens to a score

Kent. This is nothing Foole

Foole. Then 'tis like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer, you gaue me nothing for't, can you make no vse of nothing Nuncle? Lear. Why no Boy, Nothing can be made out of nothing

Foole. Prythee tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to, he will not beleeue a Foole

Lear. A bitter Foole

Foole. Do'st thou know the difference my Boy, betweene a bitter Foole, and a sweet one

Lear. No Lad, teach me

Foole. Nunckle, giue me an egge, and Ile giue thee two Crownes

Lear. What two Crownes shall they be? Foole. Why after I haue cut the egge i'th' middle and eate vp the meate, the two Crownes of the egge: when thou clouest thy Crownes i'th' middle, and gau'st away both parts, thou boar'st thine Asse on thy backe o're the durt, thou hadst little wit in thy bald crowne, when thou gau'st thy golden one away; if I speake like my selfe in this, let him be whipt that first findes it so. Fooles had nere lesse grace in a yeere, For wisemen are growne foppish, And know not how their wits to weare, Their manners are so apish

Le. When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah? Foole. I haue vsed it Nunckle, ere since thou mad'st thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gau'st them the rod, and put'st downe thine owne breeches, then they For sodaine ioy did weepe, And I for sorrow sung, That such a King should play bo-peepe, And goe the Foole among. Pry'thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaster that can teach thy Foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie

Lear. And you lie sirrah, wee'l haue you whipt

Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are, they'l haue me whipt for speaking true: thou'lt haue me whipt for lying, and sometimes I am whipt for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then a foole, and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i'th' middle; heere comes one o'the parings. Enter Gonerill.

Lear. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet on? You are too much of late i'th' frowne

Foole. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O without a figure, I am better then thou art now, I am a Foole, thou art nothing. Yes forsooth I will hold my tongue, so your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, he that keepes nor crust, nor crum, Weary of all, shall want some. That's a sheal'd Pescod

Gon. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourely Carpe and Quarrell, breaking forth In ranke, and (not to be endur'd) riots Sir. I had thought by making this well knowne vnto you, To haue found a safe redresse, but now grow fearefull By what your selfe too late haue