SCENE IV. A hall in the same. King Lear  Shakespeare homepage  |  King Lear  | Act 1, Scene 4 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE IV. A hall in the same. 

 Enter KENT, disguised  KENT  If but as well I other accents borrow, 

 That can my speech defuse, my good intent 

 May carry through itself to that full issue 

 For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent, 

 If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, 

 So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest, 

 Shall find thee full of labours. 



 Horns within. Enter KING LEAR, Knights, and Attendants  KING 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. 

 KING 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. 

 KING LEAR  What art thou? 

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

 KING LEAR  If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a 

 king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou? 

 KENT  Service. 

 KING LEAR  Who wouldst thou serve? 

 KENT  You. 

 KING LEAR  Dost thou know me, fellow? 

 KENT  No, sir; but you have that in your countenance 

 which I would fain call master. 

 KING LEAR  What's that? 

 KENT  Authority. 

 KING 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. 

 KING 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. 

 KING 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 

 Enter OSWALD  You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? 

 OSWALD  So please you,-- 



 Exit  KING 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. 

 KING LEAR  Why came not the slave back to me when I called him. 

 Knight  Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would 

 not. 

 KING 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. 

 KING 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. 

 KING 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. 

 KING 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? 

 OSWALD  My lady's father. 

 KING LEAR  'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your 

 whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! 

 OSWALD  I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. 

 KING LEAR  Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? 



 Striking him  OSWALD  I'll not be struck, my lord. 

 KENT  Nor tripped neither, you base football player. 



 Tripping up his heels  KING 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  KING LEAR  Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's 

 earnest of thy service. 



 Giving KENT money 

 Enter Fool  Fool  Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb. 



 Offering KENT his cap  KING LEAR  How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou? 

 Fool  Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. 

 KENT  Why, fool? 

 Fool  Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour: 

 nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, 

 thou'lt 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! 

 KING LEAR  Why, my boy? 

 Fool  If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs 

 myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. 

 KING LEAR  Take heed, sirrah; the whip. 

 Fool  Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped 

 out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink. 

 KING LEAR  A pestilent gall to me! 

 Fool  Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. 

 KING 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, 

 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. 

 KENT  This is nothing, fool. 

 Fool  Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you 

 gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of 

 nothing, nuncle? 

 KING LEAR  Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. 

 Fool  [To KENT]  Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of 

 his land comes to: he will not believe a fool. 

 KING LEAR  A bitter fool! 

 Fool  Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a 

 bitter fool and a sweet fool? 

 KING LEAR  No, lad; teach me. 

 Fool  That lord that counsell'd thee 

 To give away thy land, 

 Come place him here by me, 

 Do thou for him stand: 

 The sweet and bitter fool 

 Will presently appear; 

 The one in motley here, 

 The other found out there. 

 KING LEAR  Dost thou call me fool, boy? 

 Fool  All thy other titles thou hast given away; that 

 thou wast born with. 

 KENT  This is not altogether fool, my lord. 

 Fool  No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if 

 I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't: 

 and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool 

 to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg, 

 nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns. 

 KING LEAR  What two crowns shall they be? 

 Fool  Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat 

 up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou 

 clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away 

 both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o'er 

 the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, 

 when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak 

 like myself in this, let him be whipped that first 

 finds it so. 



 Singing  Fools had ne'er less wit in a year; 

 For wise men are grown foppish, 

 They know not how their wits to wear, 

 Their manners are so apish. 

 KING LEAR  When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? 

 Fool  I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy 

 daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them 

 the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches, 



 Singing  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: I would fain learn to lie. 

 KING LEAR  An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. 

 Fool  I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are: 

 they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt 

 have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am 

 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 i' the middle: here comes one o' 

 the parings. 



 Enter GONERIL  KING LEAR  How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on? 

 Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. 

 Fool  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 than thou art now; I am a fool, 

 thou art nothing. 



 To GONERIL  Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face 

 bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, 

 He that keeps nor crust nor crum, 

 Weary of all, shall want some. 



 Pointing to KING LEAR  That's a shealed peascod. 

 GONERIL  Not only, sir, this your all-licensed 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 

 Will call discreet proceeding. 

 Fool  For, you trow, nuncle, 

 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. 

 KING LEAR  Are you our daughter? 

 GONERIL  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. 

 KING 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. 

 KING 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. 

 KING LEAR  Your name, fair gentlewoman? 

 GONERIL  This admiration, sir, is much o' the 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 graced palace. 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 as may besort your age, 

 And know themselves and you. 

 KING LEAR  Darkness and devils! 

 Saddle my horses; call my train together: 

 Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee. 

 Yet have I left a daughter. 

 GONERIL  You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble 

 Make servants of their betters. 



 Enter ALBANY  KING LEAR  Woe, that too late repents,-- 



 To ALBANY  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! 

 ALBANY  Pray, sir, be patient. 

 KING 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! 

 That, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature 

 From the fix'd place; drew from heart all love, 

 And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear! 

 Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, 



 Striking his head  And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people. 

 ALBANY  My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant 

 Of what hath moved you. 

 KING 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 disnatured 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  ALBANY  Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? 

 GONERIL  Never afflict yourself to know the cause; 

 But let his disposition have that scope 

 That dotage gives it. 



 Re-enter KING LEAR  KING LEAR  What, fifty of my followers at a clap! 

 Within a fortnight! 

 ALBANY  What's the matter, sir? 

 KING LEAR  I'll tell thee: 



 To GONERIL  Life and death! I am ashamed 

 That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus; 

 That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, 

 Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! 

 The untented woundings of a father's curse 

 Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes, 

 Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out, 

 And cast you, with the waters that you lose, 

 To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this? 

 Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter, 

 Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable: 

 When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 

 She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find 

 That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think 

 I have cast off for ever: thou shalt, 

 I warrant thee. 



 Exeunt KING LEAR, KENT, and Attendants  GONERIL  Do you mark that, my lord? 

 ALBANY  I cannot be so partial, Goneril, 

 To the great love I bear you,-- 

 GONERIL  Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho! 



 To the Fool  You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master. 

 Fool  Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool 

 with thee. 

 A fox, when one has caught her, 

 And such a daughter, 

 Should sure to the slaughter, 

 If my cap would buy a halter: 

 So the fool follows after. 



 Exit  GONERIL  This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights! 

 'Tis politic and safe to let him keep 

 At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream, 

 Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 

 He may enguard his dotage with their powers, 

 And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say! 

 ALBANY  Well, you may fear too far. 

 GONERIL  Safer than trust too far: 

 Let me still take away the harms I fear, 

 Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart. 

 What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister 

 If she sustain him and his hundred knights 

 When I have show'd the unfitness,-- 



 Re-enter OSWALD  How now, Oswald! 

 What, have you writ that letter to my sister? 

 OSWALD  Yes, madam. 

 GONERIL  Take you some company, and away to horse: 

 Inform her full of my particular fear; 

 And thereto add such reasons of your own 

 As may compact it more. Get you gone; 

 And hasten your return. 



 Exit OSWALD  No, no, my lord, 

 This milky gentleness and course of yours 

 Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, 

 You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom 

 Than praised for harmful mildness. 

 ALBANY  How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell: 

 Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. 

 GONERIL  Nay, then-- 

 ALBANY  Well, well; the event. 



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