friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father: the king falls from bias of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best of our time: machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves!-Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully.-And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished his offence, honesty!-T is strange! [Exit.

EDM. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our own behaviour) we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the† stars: as if we were villains by necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail; and my nativity was under ursa major; so that it follows, I am rough and lecherous.-Tut,§ I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar-and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy: my cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam.

Enter EDGAR.

O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.

EDG. How now, brother Edmund! what serious contemplation are you in?

EDM. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

EDG. Do you busy yourself with that?

EDM. I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.

EDG. How long have you been a sectary astronomical?

EDM. Come, come; when saw you my father last?

EDG. The night gone by.

EDM. Spake you with him?

EDG. Ay, two hours together.

First folio, surfets.

(+) First folio, on.

(I) First folio omits,

(†) First folio omits, the.
(§) First folio omits, Tut.

Edgar-and.

This villain of mine-disquietly to our graves.] This passage is omitted in the quartos.

-as of unnaturalness-] The folio, omitting the intervening lines, reads, "BAST. I promise you, the effects he writes of, succeede unhappily. When saw you my Father last?"

EDM. Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him, by word nor countenance?

EDG. None at all.

EDM. Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay. EDG. Some villain hath done me wrong.

EDM. That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there's my key:-if you do stir abroad, go armed.

EDG. Armed, brother?

EDM. Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed;* I am no honest man, if there be any good meaning toward you: I have told you what I have seen and heard but faintly; nothing like the image and horror of it: pray you, away.

EDG. Shall I hear from you anon?
EDM. I do serve you in this business.-
A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,

That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty
My practices ride easy!-I see the business.-

[Exit EDGAR.

SCENE III-A Room in the Duke of Albany's Palace.

Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD her Steward.

[Exit.

GON. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? Osw. Ay, madam.

GON. By day and night he wrongs me; every hour

He flashes into one gross crime or other,

That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:

His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
On every trifle.-When he returns from hunting,

I will not speak with him; say I am sick:

If you come slack of former services,

You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.

Osw. He's coming, madam; I hear him.

GON. Put on what weary negligence you please,

You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question:
If he distaste it, let him to my sister,

Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,

(*) First folio omits, go armed.

[Horns without.

That's my fear.] In the quartos, the remainder of this speech, and Edgar's reply, are omitted.

Not to be over-rul'd.a Idle old man,

That still would manage those authorities,
That he hath given away!-Now, by my life,
Old fools are babes again, and must be us'd

With checks as flatteries,-when they are seen abus'd.
Remember what I have said.

GON. And let his knights have colder looks among you;
What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so:
I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall,
That I may speak : -I'll write straight to my sister,
To hold my course.-Prepare for dinner.

SCENE IV.-A Hall in the same.

Enter KENT, disguised.

c

KENT. If but as well I other accents borrow,
That can my speech diffuse, my good intent
May carry through itself to that full issue

For which I raz'd my likeness.-Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st,

Shall find thee full of labours.

[Exeunt.

Horns without. Enter LEAR, Knights, and Attendants.

LEAR. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go, get it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How now! what art thou?

KENT. A man, sir.

LEAR. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us? KENT. I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust; to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish. (2)

LEAR. What art thou?

KENT. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.

LEAR. If thou beest as poor for a subject, as he is for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

KENT. Service.

LEAR. Who wouldst thou serve?

KENT. You.

LEAR. Dost thou know me, fellow?

KENT. No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master.

Not to be over-rul'd.] This, and the four following lines, are omitted in the folio. I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, That I may speak :-]

b

These lines are not in the folio.

c That can my speech diffuse,--] Diffuse, here, signifies disguise.

LEAR. What's that?

KENT. Authority.

LEAR. What services canst thou do?

KENT. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in; and the best of me is,-diligence. LEAR. How old art thou?

KENT. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing; nor so old, to dote on her for any thing: I have years on my back forty-eight. LEAR. Follow me; thou shalt serve me, if I like thee no worse. after dinner. I will not part from thee yet.-Dinner, ho, dinner!— Where's my knave? my fool? Go you and call my fool hither. [Exit an Attendant.

Ј

Enter OSWALD.

You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?
Osw. So please you,-

[Exit.

LEAR. What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.[Exit a Knight.]-Where's my fool, ho?-I think the world's asleep.

Re-enter Knight.

How now! where's that mongrel?

KNIGHT. He says, my lord, your daughter* is not well.

LEAR Why came not the slave back to me, when I call'd him? KNIGHT. 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 judgment, your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the duke himself also, and your daughter.

LEAR. Ha! sayest thou so?

KNIGHT. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged.

LEAR. Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness: I will look further into 't.-But where's my fool? I have not seen him this two days.

KNIGHT. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away.

LEAR. No more of that; I have noted it well.-Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with her.-[Exit an Attendant.] Go you, call hither my fool.-[Exit an Attendant.]

Re-enter OSWALD.

O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I, sir?

(*) First folio, Daughters.

VOL. V.

ט

Osw. My lady's father.

LEAR. My lady's father! my lord's knave: you whoreson dog! you

slave! you cur!

[Striking him.

Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.
LEAR. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
Osw. I'll not be struck,* my lord.

KENT. Nor tripp'd neither, you base foot-ball player.

[Tripping up his heels. LEAR. I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love thee. KENT. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences; away, away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you wisdom? so. [Pushes OSWALD out. LEAR. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's earnest of [Giving KENT money.

thy service.

Enter Fool.

FOOL. Let me hire him too;-here's my coxcomb.

[Giving KENT his cap.

LEAR. How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?
FOOL. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
KENT. Why, fool?a

FOOL. Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour. Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou 'It catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.-How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!

LEAR. Why, my boy?

FOOL. If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my coxcombs myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters.

LEAR. Take heed, sirrah,-the whip.

FOOL. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped out, when the lady brach may stand by the fire and stink.

LEAR. A pestilent gall to me!

FOOL. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.

LEAR. DO.

FOOL. Mark it, nuncle:

Have more than thou showest,

Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest,b
Set less than thou throwest;

Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,

And thou shalt have more

Than two tens to a score.

(*) First folio, strucken.

Why, fool] This interrogatory, in the form of, "Why, my boy?" is given in the folio to Lear; but, as Mr. Dyce observes, it is plain that the Fool addresses the King for the first time, when he says, "How now, nuncle!"

than thou trowest,-1 That is. than thou believest.