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Thy element's below. Where is this daughter? Kent. With the earl, Sir, here within.
Enter Glocefter. Lear. Now, Glo'ster?-[Gloc. whispers Lear.]
Ha ! how's this?
Gloc. My dear lord,
Lear. Vengeance ! plague ! death! confusion ! Fiery? what quality ? why, Glocester, Glocester, I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.
Gloc. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them fo. Lear. Inform’d them? dost thou understand me,
man ? Gloc. Ay, my good lord. Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall ;
the dear father Would with his daughter speak; commands her
service: Are they inform’d of this?-My breath and
blood! Fiery ? the fiery duke ? tell the hot duke, thata
No, but not yet; may be, he is not well;
Enter Cornwall, Regan, and servants.
[Kent is set at liberty. Lear. Good morrow both ! Oh me, my heart ! my rising heart ! but down!
Regan. I am glad to see your highness.
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here;
Lear. Say? how is that?
Regan. I cannot think, my sister in the least
Lear. My curses on her!
Lear. Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark, how this becometh us? “ Dear daughter, I confess that I am old ; “ Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg, “ That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food."
Regan. Good Sir, no more; these are unsightly
Return you to my sister.
Lear. Never, Regan : She hath abated me of half my train; Look'd blank upon me; struck me with her tongue Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. All the for’d vengeances of Heaven fall On her ungrateful top!
Regan. Oh, the blest gods !
Regan. Good Sir, to th’purpose. [Trumpet within.
Enter Steward. Cornw. What trumpet's that? Regan. I know't, my sister's : this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here. Is your lady come?'
Lear. Out, varlet, from my sight!
Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I've
good hope, Thou didst not know, on't. Who comes here?
Oh, Heav'ns, If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Hallow obedience, if yourselves are old, Make it your cause; send down and take my part ! Art not asham’d to look upon this beard ? Oh, Regan, will you take her by the hand? Gon. Why not by th’hand, Sir? how have I
offended ? All's not offence, that indiscretion finds, And dotage terms fo.
Lear. Oh, fides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold?
How came my mani'th'stocks? Cornw. I set him there, Sir; but his own disorders Deserv'd much less advancement.
Lear. You? did you?
Regan. I pray you, father, being weak, seem fo. If, 'till the expiration of your month, You will return and fojourn with