Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among
you: what growes of it no matter, aduise your fellowes
so, Ile write straight to my Sister to hold my course; prepare
for dinner.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Kent.
Kent. If but as will I other accents borrow,
That can my speech defuse, my good intent
May carry through it selfe to that full issue
For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent,
If thou canst serue where thou dost stand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy Master whom thou lou'st,
Shall find thee full of labours.
Hornes within. Enter Lear and Attendants.
Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, go get it ready:
how now, what art thou?
Kent. A man Sir
Lear. What dost thou professe? What would'st thou
with vs?
Kent. I do professe to be no lesse then I seeme; to serue
him truely that will put me in trust, to loue him that is
honest, to conuerse with him that is wise and saies little, to
feare iudgement, to fight when I cannot choose, and to
eate no fish
Lear. What art thou?
Kent. A very honest hearted Fellow, and as poore as
the King
Lear. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect, as hee's for a
King, thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou?
Kent. Seruice
Lear. Who wouldst thou serue?
Kent. You
Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?
Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance,
which I would faine call Master
Lear. What's that?
Kent. Authority
Lear. What seruices canst thou do?
Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a
curious tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message
bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am quallified
in, and the best of me, is Dilligence
Lear. How old art thou?
Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing,
nor so old to dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on
my backe forty eight
Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no
worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner
ho, dinner, where's my knaue? my Foole? Go you and call
my Foole hither. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter?
Enter Steward.
Ste. So please you-
Enter.
Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clotpole
backe: wher's my Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's
asleepe, how now? Where's that Mungrell?
Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well
Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I
call'd him?
Knigh. 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 iudgement your Highnesse is not entertain'd
with that Ceremonious affection as you were wont,
theres a great abatement of kindnesse appeares as well in
the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also, and
your Daughter
Lear. Ha? Saist thou so?
Knigh. I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee
mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent, when I thinke
your Highnesse wrong'd
Lear. Thou but remembrest me of mine owne Conception,
I haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late,
which I haue rather blamed as mine owne iealous curiositie,
then as a very pretence and purpose of vnkindnesse;
I will looke further intoo't: but where's my Foole? I
haue not seene him this two daies
Knight. Since my young Ladies going into France
Sir, the Foole hath much pined away
Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it well, goe you
and tell my Daughter, I would speake with her. Goe you
call hither my Foole; Oh you Sir, you, come you hither
Sir, who am I Sir?
Enter Steward.