Act 2, Scene 4

Original Text

LEAR. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home, And not send backe my Messengers GENTLEMAN. As I learn'd, The night before, there was no purpose in them Of this remoue KENT. Haile to thee Noble Master LEAR. Ha? Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime? KENT. No my Lord

Modern English

*KENT and GENTLEMAN enter, then LEAR.* LEAR. It's strange that they left without sending back my messengers. GENTLEMAN. As I learned, they had no intention of leaving the night before. KENT. Greetings, noble master. LEAR. What's going on here? Are you making a joke out of this shame? KENT. No, my lord.

Original Text

FOOL. Hah, ha, he weares Cruell Garters Horses are tide by the heads, Dogges and Beares by'th' necke, Monkies by'th' loynes, and Men by'th' legs: when a man ouerlustie at legs, then he weares wodden nether-stocks LEAR. What's he, That hath so much thy place mistooke To set thee heere? KENT. It is both he and she, Your Son, and Daughter

Modern English

FOOL. Ha ha, he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the head, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs. When a man is overly lustful, he wears wooden stockings. LEAR. Who is this person that has mistaken your place and set you here? KENT. It is both your son and daughter.

Original Text

LEAR. No KENT. Yes LEAR. No I say KENT. I say yea LEAR. By Iupiter I sweare no KENT. By Iuno, I sweare I LEAR. They durst not do't: They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse then murther, To do vpon respect such violent outrage: Resolue me with all modest haste, which way Thou might'st deserue, or they impose this vsage, Comming from vs

Modern English

LEAR. No, that's not true. KENT. Yes, it is. LEAR. I say no. KENT. I say yes. LEAR. I swear on Jupiter, no. KENT. I swear on Juno, I do. LEAR. They wouldn't dare do this. They couldn't, wouldn't do it. It's worse than murder to commit such a violent outrage against someone you respect. Tell me, with all modest haste, how you deserve this treatment or how they justify it.

Original Text

KENT. My Lord, when at their home I did commend your Highnesse Letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place, that shewed My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Poste, Stew'd in his haste, halfe breathlesse, painting forth From Gonerill his Mistris, salutations; Deliuer'd Letters spight of intermission, Which presently they read; on those contents They summon'd vp their meiney, straight tooke Horse, Commanded me to follow, and attend The leisure of their answer, gaue me cold lookes, And meeting heere the other Messenger, Whose welcome I perceiu'd had poison'd mine, Being the very fellow which of late Displaid so sawcily against your Highnesse, Hauing more man then wit about me, drew; He rais'd the house, with loud and coward cries, Your Sonne and Daughter found this trespasse worth The shame which heere it suffers

Modern English

KENT. My lord, when I arrived at their home and delivered your letters, before I could even stand up from kneeling, a messenger arrived, out of breath, with greetings from Gonerill. They read the letters immediately and summoned their servants, took horse, and ordered me to follow and wait for their response. They gave me cold looks, and when I met the other messenger, I realized my welcome had been poisoned by his presence. He was the same fellow who had recently spoken out against you.

Original Text

FOOL. Winters not gon yet, if the wil'd Geese fly that way, Fathers that weare rags, do make their Children blind, But Fathers that beare bags, shall see their children kind. Fortune that arrant whore, nere turns the key toth' poore. But for all this thou shalt haue as many Dolors for thy Daughters, as thou canst tell in a yeare LEAR. Oh how this Mother swels vp toward my heart! Historica passio, downe thou climing sorrow, Thy Elements below where is this Daughter?

Modern English

FOOL. Winter isn't over yet if the wild geese fly that way. Fathers who wear rags make their children blind, but fathers who bear bags will see their children kindly. Fortune, that arrant whore, never turns the key to the poor. But for all this, you'll have as many pains for your daughters as you can count in a year. LEAR. Oh, how this mother swells up toward my heart. Historical passion, down you climbing sorrow, where is this daughter?

Original Text

KENT. With the Earle Sir, here within LEAR. Follow me not, stay here. *Exit.* GENTLEMAN. Made you no more offence, But what you speake of? KENT. None: How chance the King comes with so small a number? FOOL. And thou hadst beene set i'th' Stockes for that question, thoud'st well deseru'd it

Modern English

KENT. She's with the Earl, sir, here within. LEAR. Don't follow me, stay here. *KENT exits.* GENTLEMAN. Did you commit any other offense besides what you spoke of? KENT. None. How is it that the King comes with so small a number? FOOL. And you had been set in the stocks for that question, you would have deserved it.

Original Text

KENT. Why Foole? FOOL. Wee'l set thee to schoole to an Ant, to teach thee ther's no labouring i'th' winter. All that follow their noses, are led by their eyes, but blinde men, and there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking; let go thy hold when a great wheele runs downe a hill, least it breake thy necke with following. But the great one that goes vpward, let him draw thee after: when a wiseman giues thee better counsell giue me mine againe, I would haue none but knaues follow it, since a Foole giues it. That Sir, which serues and seekes for gaine, And followes but for forme; Will packe, when it begins to raine, And leaue thee in the storme, But I will tarry, the Foole will stay, And let the wiseman flie: The knaue turnes Foole that runnes away, The Foole no knaue perdie.

Modern English

KENT. Why, Fool? FOOL. We'll set you to school with an ant to teach you there's no laboring in winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men, and there's not a nose among twenty that can't smell him who's stinking. Let go of your hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break your neck with following. But the great one that goes upward, let him draw you after. When a wise man gives you better counsel, give me mine again. I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it. That sir, which serves and seeks gain, and follows but for form, will pack when it begins to rain and leave you in the storm. But I will tarry, the Fool will stay, and let the wise man fly. The knave turns fool that runs away, the fool no knave, indeed.

Original Text

*Enter Lear, and Gloster* KENT. Where learn'd you this Foole? FOOL. Not i'th' Stocks Foole LEAR. Deny to speake with me? They are sicke, they are weary, They haue trauail'd all the night? meere fetches, The images of reuolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer

Modern English

*Enter LEAR and GLOUCESTER.* KENT. Where did you learn this, Fool? FOOL. Not in the stocks, Fool. LEAR. Do they refuse to speak with me? They're sick, they're weary, they've traveled all night? Mere fetches, images of revolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. My deere Lord, You know the fiery quality of the Duke, How vnremoueable and fixt he is In his owne course LEAR. Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confusion: Fiery? What quality? Why Gloster, Gloster, I'ld speake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife GLOUCESTER. Well my good Lord, I haue inform'd them so

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. My dear Lord, you know the fiery quality of the Duke, how unremovable and fixed he is in his own course. LEAR. Vengeance, plague, death, confusion. Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. GLOUCESTER. Well, my good Lord, I have informed them so.

Original Text

LEAR. Inform'd them? Do'st thou vnderstand me man GLOUCESTER. I my good Lord LEAR. The King would speake with Cornwall, The deere Father Would with his Daughter speake, commands, tends, seruice, Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood: Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that- No, but not yet, may be he is not well, Infirmity doth still neglect all office, Whereto our health is bound, we are not our selues, When Nature being opprest, commands the mind To suffer with the body; Ile forbeare, And am fallen out with my more headier will, To take the indispos'd and sickly fit, For the sound man. Death on my state: wherefore Should he sit heere? This act perswades me, That this remotion of the Duke and her Is practise only. Giue me my Seruant forth; Goe tell the Duke, and's wife, Il'd speake with them: Now, presently: bid them come forth and heare me, Or at their Chamber doore Ile beate the Drum, Till it crie sleepe to death

Modern English

LEAR. Informed them? Do you understand me, man? GLOUCESTER. I, my good Lord. LEAR. The King would speak with Cornwall, the dear Father would speak with his Daughter, commands, tends, service. Are they informed of this? My breath and blood. Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that... No, but not yet, maybe he is not well. Infirmity does still neglect all office, whereas our health is bound. We are not ourselves when Nature, being oppressed, commands the mind to suffer with the body. I'll forbear, and am fallen out with my more headier will, to take the indisposed and sickly fit for the sound man. Death on my state. Wherefore should he sit here? This act persuades me that this removal of the Duke and her is practice only. Give me my servant forth. Go tell the Duke and his wife, I'd speak with them, now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me, or at their chamber door, I'll beat the drum till it cries sleep to death.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. I would haue all well betwixt you. *Exit.* LEAR. Oh me my heart! My rising heart! But downe FOOL. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cockney did to the Eeles, when she put 'em i'th' Paste aliue, she knapt 'em o'th' coxcombs with a sticke, and cryed downe wantons, downe; 'twas her Brother, that in pure kindnesse to his Horse buttered his Hay.

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. I would have all well between you. *GLOUCESTER exits.* LEAR. Oh me, my heart, my rising heart. But down. FOOL. Cry to it, Nuncle, as the Cockney did to the eels, when she put them in the paste alive. She knapped them on the coxcombs with a stick and cried down, wantons, down. It was her brother, that in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Original Text

*Enter Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.* LEAR. Good morrow to you both CORNWALL. Haile to your Grace. *Kent here set at liberty.* REGAN. I am glad to see your Highnesse LEAR. Regan, I thinke you are. I know what reason I haue to thinke so, if thou should'st not be glad, I would diuorce me from thy Mother Tombe, Sepulchring an Adultresse. O are you free? Some other time for that. Beloued Regan, Thy Sisters naught: oh Regan, she hath tied Sharpe-tooth'd vnkindnesse, like a vulture heere, I can scarce speake to thee, thou'lt not beleeue With how deprau'd a quality. Oh Regan

Modern English

*Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and SERVANTS.* LEAR. Good morrow to you both. CORNWALL. Hail to your Grace. *KENT is set at liberty.* REGAN. I am glad to see your Highness. LEAR. Regan, I think you are. I know what reason I have to think so. If you shouldn't be glad, I would divorce myself from your mother's tomb, sepulchering an adulteress. Oh, are you free? Some other time for that. Beloved Regan, your sister is nothing. Oh Regan, she has tied sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here. I can scarce speak to you, you'll not believe with how depraved a quality.

Original Text

REGAN. I pray you Sir, take patience, I haue hope You lesse know how to value her desert, Then she to scant her dutie LEAR. Say? How is that? REGAN. I cannot thinke my Sister in the least Would faile her Obligation. If Sir perchance She haue restrained the Riots of your Followres, 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As cleeres her from all blame

Modern English

REGAN. I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope you less know how to value her desert than she to scant her duty. LEAR. Say, how is that? REGAN. I cannot think my sister in the least would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance she has restrained the riots of your followers, it's on such ground and to such wholesome end as clears her from all blame.

Original Text

LEAR. My curses on her REGAN. O Sir, you are old, Nature in you stands on the very Verge Of his confine: you should be rul'd, and led By some discretion, that discernes your state Better then you your selfe: therefore I pray you, That to our Sister, you do make returne, Say you haue wrong'd her

Modern English

LEAR. My curses on her. REGAN. Oh, sir, you are old. Nature in you stands on the very verge of his confine. You should be ruled and led by some discretion that discerns your state better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you, that to our sister, you do make return, say you have wronged her.

Original Text

LEAR. Aske her forgiuenesse? Do you but marke how this becomes the house? Deere daughter, I confesse that I am old; Age is vnnecessary: on my knees I begge, That you'l vouchsafe me Rayment, Bed, and Food REGAN. Good Sir, no more: these are vnsightly trickes: Returne you to my Sister LEAR. Neuer Regan: She hath abated me of halfe my Traine; Look'd blacke vpon me, strooke me with her Tongue Most Serpent-like, vpon the very Heart. All the stor'd Vengeances of Heauen, fall On her ingratefull top: strike her yong bones You taking Ayres, with Lamenesse

Modern English

LEAR. Ask her for forgiveness? Do you but mark how this becomes the house? 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 tricks. Return to my sister. LEAR. Never, Regan. She has abated me of half my train, looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue, most serpent-like, upon the very heart. All the stored vengeances of Heaven, fall on her ingrateful top. Strike her young bones, you taking airs, with lameness.

Original Text

CORNWALL. Fye sir, fie LEAR. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornfull eyes: Infect her Beauty, You Fen-suck'd Fogges, drawne by the powrfull Sunne, To fall, and blister REGAN. O the blest Gods! So will you wish on me, when the rash moode is on LEAR. No Regan, thou shalt neuer haue my curse: Thy tender-hefted Nature shall not giue Thee o're to harshnesse: Her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort, and not burne. 'Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my Traine, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, And in conclusion, to oppose the bolt Against my comming in. Thou better know'st The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood, Effects of Curtesie, dues of Gratitude: Thy halfe o'th' Kingdome hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endow'd

Modern English

CORNWALL. Fie, sir, fie. LEAR. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames into her scornful eyes. Infect her beauty. You fen-sucked fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, to fall and blister. REGAN. Oh, the blessed gods. So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on. LEAR. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse. Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give thee over to harshness. Her eyes are fierce, but thine do comfort and not burn. It's not in thee to grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, to bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, and in conclusion, to oppose the bolt against my coming in. Thou better knowest the offices of nature, bond of childhood, effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude. Thy half of the kingdom hast thou not forgot, wherein I thee endowed.

Original Text

REGAN. Good Sir, to'th' purpose. *Tucket within.* LEAR. Who put my man i'th' Stockes?

Modern English

*Enter STEWARD.* LEAR. Who put my man in the stocks?

Original Text

*Enter Steward.* CORNWALL. What Trumpet's that? REGAN. I know't, my Sisters: this approues her Letter, That she would soone be heere. Is your Lady come? LEAR. This is a Slaue, whose easie borrowed pride Dwels in the sickly grace of her he followes. Out Varlet, from my sight CORNWALL. What meanes your Grace?

Modern English

CORNWALL. What trumpet's that? REGAN. I know it, my sister. This approves her letter, that she would soon be here. Is your lady come? LEAR. This is a slave, whose easy-borrowed pride dwells in the sickly grace of her he follows. Out, varlet, from my sight. CORNWALL. What means your Grace?

Original Text

*Enter Gonerill.* LEAR. Who stockt my Seruant? Regan, I haue good hope Thou did'st not know on't. Who comes here? O Heauens! If you do loue old men; if your sweet sway Allow Obedience; if you your selues are old, Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part. Art not asham'd to looke vpon this Beard? O Regan, will you take her by the hand?

Modern English

*Enter GONERILL.* LEAR. Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope you didn't know of it. Who comes here? Oh heavens, if you do love old men, if your sweet sway allows obedience, if you yourselves are old, make it your cause. Send down and take my part. Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? Oh Regan, will you take her by the hand?

Original Text

GONERIL. Why not by'th' hand Sir? How haue I offended? All's not offence that indiscretion findes, And dotage termes so LEAR. O sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold? How came my man i'th' Stockes? CORNWALL. I set him there, Sir: but his owne Disorders Deseru'd much lesse aduancement

Modern English

GONERILL. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? All's not offense that indiscretion finds, and dotage terms so. LEAR. Oh sides, you are too tough. Will you yet hold? How came my man in the stocks? CORNWALL. I set him there, sir. But his own disorders deserved much less advancement.

Original Text

LEAR. You? Did you? REGAN. I pray you Father being weake, seeme so. If till the expiration of your Moneth You will returne and soiourne with my Sister, Dismissing halfe your traine, come then to me, I am now from home, and out of that prouision Which shall be needfull for your entertainement LEAR. Returne to her? and fifty men dismiss'd? No, rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse To wage against the enmity oth' ayre, To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle, Necessities sharpe pinch. Returne with her? Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerlesse tooke Our yongest borne, I could as well be brought To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pension beg, To keepe base life a foote; returne with her? Perswade me rather to be slaue and sumpter To this detested groome

Modern English

LEAR. You? Did you? REGAN. I pray you, Father, being weak, seem so. If till the expiration of your month, you will return and sojourn with my sister, dismissing half your train, come then to me. I am now from home and out of that provision which shall be needful for your entertainment. LEAR. Return to her? And fifty men dismissed? No, rather I abjure all roofs and choose to wage against the enmity of the air, to be a comrade with the wolf and owl. Necessities' sharp pinch. Return with her? Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took our youngest born, I could as well be brought to knee his throne and squire-like pension beg to keep base life afoot. Return with her? Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter to this detested groom.

Original Text

GONERIL. At your choice Sir LEAR. I prythee Daughter do not make me mad, I will not trouble thee my Child; farewell: Wee'l no more meete, no more see one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my Daughter, Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a Byle, A plague sore, or imbossed Carbuncle In my corrupted blood. But Ile not chide thee, Let shame come when it will, I do not call it, I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoote, Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging Ioue, Mend when thou can'st, be better at thy leisure, I can be patient, I can stay with Regan, I and my hundred Knights

Modern English

GONERILL. At your choice, sir. LEAR. I pray thee, daughter, do not make me mad. I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell. We'll no more meet, no more see one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter, or rather a disease that's in my flesh, which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil, a plague sore, or an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee. Let shame come when it will. I do not call it. I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. Mend when thou canst, be better at thy leisure. I can be patient. I can stay with Regan, I and my hundred knights.

Original Text

REGAN. Not altogether so, I look'd not for you yet, nor am prouided For your fit welcome, giue eare Sir to my Sister, For those that mingle reason with your passion, Must be content to thinke you old, and so, But she knowes what she doe's LEAR. Is this well spoken? REGAN. I dare auouch it Sir, what fifty Followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many? Sith that both charge and danger, Speake 'gainst so great a number? How in one house Should many people, vnder two commands Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible

Modern English

REGAN. Not altogether so. I looked not for you yet, nor am provided for your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister. For those that mingle reason with your passion must be content to think you old, and so, but she knows what she does. LEAR. Is this well spoken? REGAN. I dare avouch it, sir. What fifty followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many? Since both charge and danger speak against so great a number. How in one house should many people, under two commands, hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible.

Original Text

GONERIL. Why might not you my Lord, receiue attendance From those that she cals Seruants, or from mine? REGAN. Why not my Lord? If then they chanc'd to slacke ye, We could comptroll them; if you will come to me, (For now I spie a danger) I entreate you To bring but fiue and twentie, to no more Will I giue place or notice

Modern English

GONERILL. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance from those that she calls servants, or from mine? REGAN. Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you, we could control them. If you will come to me, for now I spy a danger, I entreat you to bring but twenty-five, to no more will I give place or notice.

Original Text

LEAR. I gaue you all REGAN. And in good time you gaue it LEAR. Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries, But kept a reseruation to be followed With such a number? What, must I come to you With fiue and twenty? Regan, said you so? REGAN. And speak't againe my Lord, no more with me LEAR. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor'd When others are more wicked, not being the worst Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go with thee, Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty, And thou art twice her Loue

Modern English

LEAR. I gave you all. REGAN. And in good time you gave it. LEAR. Made you my guardians, my depositaries, but kept a reservation to be followed with such a number? What, must I come to you with twenty-five? Regan, said you so? REGAN. And speak't again, my lord, no more with me. LEAR. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favored when others are more wicked, not being the worst stands in some rank of praise. I'll go with thee. Thy fifty yet doth double twenty-five, and thou art twice her love.

Original Text

GONERIL. Heare me my Lord; What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue? To follow in a house, where twice so many Haue a command to tend you? REGAN. What need one? LEAR. O reason not the need: our basest Beggers Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs: Mans life is cheape as Beastes. Thou art a Lady; If onely to go warme were gorgeous, Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need: You Heauens, giue me that patience, patience I need, You see me heere (you Gods) a poore old man, As full of griefe as age, wretched in both, If it be you that stirres these Daughters hearts Against their Father, foole me not so much, To beare it tamely: touch me with Noble anger, And let not womens weapons, water drops, Staine my mans cheekes. No you vnnaturall Hags, I will haue such reuenges on you both, That all the world shall- I will do such things, What they are yet, I know not, but they shalbe The terrors of the earth? you thinke Ile weepe, No, Ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping. *Storme and Tempest.* But this heart shal break into a hundred thousand flawes Or ere Ile weepe; O Foole, I shall go mad.

Modern English

GONERILL. Hear me, my lord. What need you fifty? Ten? Or five? To follow in a house where twice so many have a command to tend you? REGAN. What need one? LEAR. Oh, reason not the need. Our basest beggars are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs. Man's life is cheap as beasts. Thou art a lady. If only to go warm were gorgeous, why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, which scarcely keeps thee warm, but for true need. You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need. You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, as full of grief as age, wretched in both. If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts against their father, fool me not so much to bear it tamely. Touch me with noble anger, and let not women's weapons, water drops, stain my man's cheeks. No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both that all the world shall... I will do such things, what they are yet, I know not, but they shall be the terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep. No, I'll not weep. I have full cause of weeping. *A storm and tempest begin.* But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws or ere I'll weep. Oh, fool, I shall go mad.

Original Text

*Exeunt.* CORNWALL. Let vs withdraw, 'twill be a Storme REGAN. This house is little, the old man and's people, Cannot be well bestow'd GONERIL. 'Tis his owne blame hath put himselfe from rest, And must needs taste his folly REGAN. For his particular, Ile receiue him gladly, But not one follower GONERIL. So am I purpos'd, Where is my Lord of Gloster?

Modern English

*Exeunt.* CORNWALL. Let us withdraw. It will be a storm. REGAN. This house is little. The old man and his people cannot be well bestowed. GONERILL. 'Tis his own blame that has put himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly. REGAN. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, but not one follower. GONERILL. So am I purposed. Where is my Lord of Gloucester?

Original Text

*Enter Gloster.* CORNWALL. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd GLOUCESTER. The King is in high rage CORNWALL. Whether is he going? GLOUCESTER. He cals to Horse, but will I know not whether CORNWALL. 'Tis best to giue him way, he leads himselfe GONERIL. My Lord, entreate him by no meanes to stay GLOUCESTER. Alacke the night comes on, and the high windes Do sorely ruffle, for many Miles about There's scarce a Bush

Modern English

*Enter GLOUCESTER.* CORNWALL. Followed the old man forth. He is returned. GLOUCESTER. The King is in high rage. CORNWALL. Whether is he going? GLOUCESTER. He calls to horse, but I know not whether. CORNWALL. 'Tis best to give him way. He leads himself. GONERILL. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. GLOUCESTER. Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds do sorely ruffle. For many miles about, there's scarce a bush.

King Lear

Act 2, Scene 4

Act 2, Scene 4