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Allow Obedience; if you your selues are old, |
Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part. |
Art not asham'd to looke vpon this Beard? |
O Regan, will you take her by the hand? |
Gon. Why not by'th' hand Sir? How haue I offended? |
All's not offence that indiscretion findes, |
And dotage termes so |
Lear. O sides, you are too tough! |
Will you yet hold? |
How came my man i'th' Stockes? |
Corn. I set him there, Sir: but his owne Disorders |
Deseru'd much lesse aduancement |
Lear. You? Did you? |
Reg. I pray you Father being weake, seeme so. |
If till the expiration of your Moneth |
You will returne and soiourne with my Sister, |
Dismissing halfe your traine, come then to me, |
I am now from home, and out of that prouision |
Which shall be needfull for your entertainement |
Lear. Returne to her? and fifty men dismiss'd? |
No, rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse |
To wage against the enmity oth' ayre, |
To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle, |
Necessities sharpe pinch. Returne with her? |
Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerlesse tooke |
Our yongest borne, I could as well be brought |
To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pension beg, |
To keepe base life a foote; returne with her? |
Perswade me rather to be slaue and sumpter |
To this detested groome |
Gon. At your choice Sir |
Lear. I prythee Daughter do not make me mad, |
I will not trouble thee my Child; farewell: |
Wee'l no more meete, 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 Byle, |
A plague sore, or imbossed Carbuncle |
In my corrupted blood. But Ile not chide thee, |
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it, |
I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoote, |
Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging Ioue, |
Mend when thou can'st, 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 prouided |
For your fit welcome, giue eare Sir to my Sister, |
For those that mingle reason with your passion, |
Must be content to thinke you old, and so, |
But she knowes what she doe's |
Lear. Is this well spoken? |
Reg. I dare auouch it Sir, what fifty Followers? |
Is it not well? What should you need of more? |
Yea, or so many? Sith that both charge and danger, |
Speake 'gainst so great a number? How in one house |
Should many people, vnder two commands |
Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible |
Gon. Why might not you my Lord, receiue attendance |
From those that she cals Seruants, or from mine? |
Reg. Why not my Lord? |
If then they chanc'd to slacke ye, |
We could comptroll them; if you will come to me, |
(For now I spie a danger) I entreate you |
To bring but fiue and twentie, to no more |
Will I giue place or notice |
Lear. I gaue you all |
Reg. And in good time you gaue it |
Lear. Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries, |
But kept a reseruation to be followed |
With such a number? What, must I come to you |
With fiue and twenty? Regan, said you so? |
Reg. And speak't againe my Lord, no more with me |
Lea. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor'd |
When others are more wicked, not being the worst |
Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go with thee, |
Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty, |
And thou art twice her Loue |
Gon. Heare me my Lord; |
What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue? |
To follow in a house, where twice so many |
Haue a command to tend you? |
Reg. What need one? |
Lear. O reason not the need: our basest Beggers |
Are in the poorest thing superfluous. |
Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs: |
Mans life is cheape as Beastes. Thou art a Lady; |
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