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Exeunt. |
Scena Quinta. |
Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, and Foole. |
Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these Letters; |
acquaint my Daughter no further with any thing you |
know, then comes from her demand out of the Letter, |
if your Dilligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore |
you |
Kent. I will not sleepe my Lord, till I haue deliuered |
your Letter. |
Enter. |
Foole. If a mans braines were in's heeles, wert not in |
danger of kybes? |
Lear. I Boy |
Foole. Then I prythee be merry, thy wit shall not go |
slip-shod |
Lear. Ha, ha, ha |
Fool. Shalt see thy other Daughter will vse thee kindly, |
for though she's as like this, as a Crabbe's like an |
Apple, yet I can tell what I can tell |
Lear. What can'st tell Boy? |
Foole. She will taste as like this as, a Crabbe do's to a |
Crab: thou canst, tell why ones nose stands i'th' middle |
on's face? |
Lear. No |
Foole. Why to keepe ones eyes of either side 's nose, |
that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into |
Lear. I did her wrong |
Foole. Can'st tell how an Oyster makes his shell? |
Lear. No |
Foole. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snaile ha's |
a house |
Lear. Why? |
Foole. Why to put's head in, not to giue it away to his |
daughters, and leaue his hornes without a case |
Lear. I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father? Be |
my Horsses ready? |
Foole. Thy Asses are gone about 'em; the reason why |
the seuen Starres are no mo then seuen, is a pretty reason |
Lear. Because they are not eight |
Foole. Yes indeed, thou would'st make a good Foole |
Lear. To tak't againe perforce; Monster Ingratitude! |
Foole. If thou wert my Foole Nunckle, Il'd haue thee |
beaten for being old before thy time |
Lear. How's that? |
Foole. Thou shouldst not haue bin old, till thou hadst |
bin wise |
Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad sweet Heauen: |
keepe me in temper, I would not be mad. How now are |
the Horses ready? |
Gent. Ready my Lord |
Lear. Come Boy |
Fool. She that's a Maid now, & laughs at my departure, |
Shall not be a Maid long, vnlesse things be cut shorter. |
Exeunt. |
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. |
Enter Bastard, and Curan, seuerally. |
Bast. Saue thee Curan |
Cur. And you Sir, I haue bin |
With your Father, and giuen him notice |
That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Duchesse |
Will be here with him this night |