id="id00089">     [Points at Lear] That's a sheal'd peascod.
  Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool,
     But other of your insolent retinue
     Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth
     In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir,
     I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
     To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful,
     By what yourself, too, late have spoke and done,
     That you protect this course, and put it on
     By your allowance; which if you should, the fault
     Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
     Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
     Might in their working do you that offence
     Which else were shame, that then necessity
     Must call discreet proceeding.
  Fool. For you know, nuncle,

          The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long
          That it had it head bit off by it young.

     So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
  Lear. Are you our daughter?
  Gon. Come, sir,
     I would you would make use of that good wisdom
     Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away
     These dispositions that of late transform you
     From what you rightly are.
  Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse?
     Whoop, Jug, I love thee!
  Lear. Doth any here know me? This is not Lear.
     Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
     Either his notion weakens, his discernings
     Are lethargied- Ha! waking? 'Tis not so!
     Who is it that can tell me who I am?
  Fool. Lear's shadow.
  Lear. I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty,
     Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded
     I had daughters.
  Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.
  Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman?
  Gon. This admiration, sir, is much o' th' savour
     Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
     To understand my purposes aright.
     As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
     Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
     Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd, and bold
     That this our court, infected with their manners,
     Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust
     Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
     Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak
     For instant remedy. Be then desir'd
     By her that else will take the thing she begs
     A little to disquantity your train,
     And the remainder that shall still depend
     To be such men as may besort your age,
     Which know themselves, and you.
  Lear. Darkness and devils!
     Saddle my horses! Call my train together!
     Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee;
     Yet have I left a daughter.
  Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble
     Make servants of their betters.

Enter Albany.

  Lear. Woe that too late repents!- O, sir, are you come?
     Is it your will? Speak, sir!- Prepare my horses.
     Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,
     More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child
     Than the sea-monster!
  Alb. Pray, sir, be patient.
  Lear. [to Goneril] Detested kite, thou liest!
     My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
     That all particulars of duty know
     And in the most exact regard support
     The worships of their name.- O most small fault,
     How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
     Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature
     From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love
     And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
     Beat at this gate that let thy folly in [Strikes his head.]
     And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.
  Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
     Of what hath mov'd you.
  Lear. It may be so, my lord.
     Hear, Nature, hear! dear goddess, hear!
     Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
     To make this creature fruitful.
     Into her womb convey sterility;
     Dry up in her the organs of increase;
     And from her derogate body never spring
     A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
     Create her child of spleen, that it may live
     And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her.
     Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
     With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks,
     Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
     To laughter and contempt, that she may feel
     How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
     To have a thankless child! Away, away! Exit.
  Alb. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?
  Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
     But let his disposition have that scope
     That dotage gives it.