Shakespeare's First Folio Part 599

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 c.o.xcombe

Lear. How now my pretty knaue, how dost thou?

Foole. Sirrah, you were best take my c.o.xcombe

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 c.o.xcombe; 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 c.o.xcombe. How now Nunckle? would I had two c.o.xcombes and two Daughters

Lear. Why my Boy?

Fool. If I gaue them all my liuing, I'ld keepe my c.o.xcombes 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 wh.o.r.e, 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 a.s.se 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 wis.e.m.e.n 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 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 sleepe, Which in the tender of a wholesome weale, Mighty in their working do you that offence, Which else were shame, that then necessitie Will call discreet proceeding

Foole. For you know Nunckle, the Hedge-Sparrow fed the Cuckoo so long, that it's had it head bit off by it young, so out went the Candle, and we were left darkling

Lear. Are you our Daughter?

Gon. I would you would make vse of your good wisedome (Whereof I know you are fraught), and put away These dispositions, which of late transport you From what you rightly are

Foole. May not an a.s.se know, when the Cart drawes the Horse?

Whoop Iugge I loue thee

Lear. Do's any heere know me?

This is not Lear: Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eies?

Either his Notion weakens, his Discernings Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so?

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Foole. Lears shadow

Lear. Your name, faire Gentlewoman?

Gon. This admiration Sir, is much o'th' sauour Of other your new prankes. I do beseech you To vnderstand my purposes aright: As you are Old, and Reuerend, should be Wise.

Heere do you keepe a hundred Knights and Squires, Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold, That this our Court infected with their manners, Shewes like a riotous Inne; Epicurisme and l.u.s.t Makes it more like a Tauerne, or a Broth.e.l.l, Then a grac'd Pallace. The shame it selfe doth speake For instant remedy. Be then desir'd By her, that else will take the thing she begges, A little to disquant.i.ty your Traine, And the remainders that shall still depend, To be such men as may besort your Age, Which know themselues, and you

Lear. Darknesse, and Diuels.

Saddle my horses: call my Traine together.

Degenerate b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Ile not trouble thee; Yet haue I left a daughter

Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rable, make Seruants of their Betters.

Enter Albany.

Lear. Woe, that too late repents: Is it your will, speake Sir? Prepare my Horses.

Ingrat.i.tude! thou Marble-hearted Fiend, More hideous when thou shew'st thee in a Child, Then the Sea-monster

Alb. Pray Sir be patient

Lear. Detested Kite, thou lyest.

My Traine are men of choice, and rarest parts, That all particulars of dutie know, And in the most exact regard, support The worships of their name. O most small fault, How vgly did'st thou in Cordelia shew?

Which like an Engine, wrencht my frame of Nature From the fixt place: drew from my heart all loue, And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!

Beate at this gate that let thy Folly in, And thy deere Iudgement out. Go, go, my people

Alb. My Lord, I am guiltlesse, as I am ignorant Of what hath moued you