King Lear - The Original Classic Edition. Shakespeare William

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.

       Lear. What art thou?

       Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King. Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's 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. 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 anything. I have years on my back forty-eight.

       Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no worse after

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       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 the] Steward.

       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.

       [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 entertain'd 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! say'st 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 wrong'd. Lear. Thou but rememb'rest 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 Knight.] Go you, call hither my fool.

       Enter [Oswald the] Steward.

       [Exit an Attendant.]

       O, you, sir, you! Come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir? Osw. My lady's father.

       Lear. 'My lady's father'? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog!

       you

       slave! you cur!

       Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

       [Strikes him.] Osw. I'll not be strucken, my lord.

       Kent. Nor tripp'd neither, you base football player? [Trips up his heels.

       Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee.

       Kent. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences. Away,

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       away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry;

       but

       away! Go to! Have you wisdom? So.

       [Pushes him out.]

       Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest of thy

       service. [Gives money.] Enter Fool.

       Fool. Let me hire him too. Here's my coxcomb. [Offers Kent his cap.]

       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 hath banish'd 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'ld 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 whipp'd out, when

       Lady the brach may stand by th' 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, 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 unfeed lawyer-you gave me

       nothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? 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. Lear. A bitter fool!

       Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool?

       Lear. No, lad; teach me.

       Fool. That lord that counsell'd thee

       To give away thy land,

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       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. 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 the fool to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.

       Lear. What two crowns shall they be?

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

       meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i'

       th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st