Part 9

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

Bast. How comes that? Cur. Nay I know not, you haue heard of the newes abroad, I meane the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments

Bast. Not I: pray you what are they? Cur. Haue you heard of no likely Warres toward, 'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany? Bast. Not a word

Cur. You may do then in time, Fare you well Sir. Enter.

Bast. The Duke be here to night? The better best, This weaues it selfe perforce into my businesse, My Father hath set guard to take my Brother, And I haue one thing of a queazie question Which I must act, Briefenesse, and Fortune worke. Enter Edgar.