fool
Will presently appear,
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.
Dost thou call me fool?
All thy other titles thou hast given
away, that thou wast born with.
This is not altogether fool.
Fools had never less grace in a year,
For wise men are grown foppish,
And know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.
When were you wont to be so full
of songs?
Ever since thou madest
thy daughters thy mothers:
For when thou gavest them the rod,
and putt'st down thine own breeches.
Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.
Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster
that can teach thy fool to lie.
An you lie, we'll have you whipped.
Thy daughters will have me whipped
for speaking true,
thou'It for lying, and sometimes I'm
whipped for holding my peace.
I had rather be any kind o'thing
than a fool.
And yet I would not
be thee, nuncle.
Thou hast pared thy wit o'both sides,
and left nothing in the middle.
Here comes one of the parings.
How now, daughter!
What makes that frontlet on?
Methinks you are too much
of late in the frown.
Thou wast a pretty fellow
when thou hadst no need
to care for her frowning.
Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue.
So your face bids me...
though you say nothing.
Not only, sir, this your
all-licensed fool,
but other of your insolent retinue
do hourly carp and quarrel.
I had thought, by making this
well known unto you,
to have found a safe redress,
but now grow fearful
that you protect this course.
Which if you should,
the fault would not scape censure,
which might in their working
do you that offence,
which else were shame,
that then necessity
will call discreet proceeding.
For, you trow, nuncle.
The hedge-sparrow fed
The cuckoo so long,
That it had its head
Bit off by its young!
So, out went the candle,
and we were left darkling.
Are you our daughter?
I would you would make use
of that good wisdom,
and put away these dispositions,
that transform you from what you are.
Doth any here know me?
Why, this is not Lear!
Doth Lear walk thus?
Speak thus?
Where are his eyes?
Either his notion weakens,
or his discernings are lethargied?
Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so...
Who is it that can tell me
who I am?
Lear's shadow.
I would learn that.
[Skipped item nr. 368]
Knowledge, and reason,
I should be false-persuaded
I had daughters.
Your name, fair gentlewoman?
This admiration, sir,
is much of the savour
of other your new pranks.
I do beseech you to understand
my purposes aright.
Here do you keep a hundred
knights and squires,
men so disordered, so debosht,
and bold,
that this our court
shows like a riotous inn.
The shame itself doth speak
for instant remedy:
Be, then, desired 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
which know themselves and you.
Darkness and devils!
Saddle my horses!
Saddle my horses!
Call my train together!
Degenerate bastard!
I'll not trouble thee.
Yet have I left a daughter.
Woe, that too late repents.
Saddle my horses!
Is it your will? Speak, sir.
Prepare my horses.
Pray, sir, be patient.
Detested kite! Thou liest!
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly
in, and thy dearjudgement out!
Go, go, my people!
I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
of what hath moved you.
It may be so, my lord.
Hear, nature, hear,
dear goddess, hear!
Into her womb convey sterility!
If she must teem,
create her child that be a thwart
disnatured torment to her!
That she may feel
how sharper
than a serpent's tooth it is
to have a thankless child.
Away, away!
But let his disposition have that
scope that dotage gives it.
What, Oswald, ho!
This man hath had good counsel:
A hundred knights!
On every fancy, he may enguard
his dotage with their powers,
and hold our lives in mercy.
Oswald, I say!
Well, you may