Lear.  Are you our daughter?

   Gonerill.  Come, sir,
     I would, you would make use of that good wisdom
     Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away
     These dispositions, which of late transform you
     From what you rightly are.

   Fool.  May not an ass know when the cart draws the
     horse?—­Whoop, Jug, I love thee.

   Lear.  Does any here know me?—­Why, this is not
     Lear: 
     Does Lear walk thus? speak thus?—­Where are his eyes? 
     Either his notion weakens, or his discernings
     Are lethargy’d—­Ha! waking?—­’Tis not so.—­
     Who is it that can tell me who I am?—­Lear’s shadow? 
     I would learn that:  for by the marks
     Of sov’reignty, of knowledge, and of reason,
     I should be false persuaded I had daughters.—­
     Your name, fair gentlewoman?

   Gonerill.  Come, sir: 
     This admiration is much o’ the favour
     Of other your new pranks.  I do beseech you
     To understand my purposes aright: 
     As you are old and reverend, you should be wise: 
     Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
     Men so disorder’d, so debauch’d, and bold,
     That this our court, infected with their manners,
     Shows like a riotous inn:  epicurism and lust
     Make it more like a tavern, or a brothel,
     Than a grac’d palace.  The shame itself doth speak
     For instant remedy:  be then desir’d
     By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
     A little to disquantity your train;
     And the remainder, that shall still depend,
     To be such men as may besort your age,
     And know themselves and you.

   Lear.  Darkness and devils! 
     Saddle my horses; call my train together.—­
     Degenerate Bastard!  I’ll not trouble thee;
     Yet have I left a daughter.

Gonerill.  You strike my people, and your disorder’d rabble
Make servants of their betters.

Enter Albany

Lear.  Woe, that too late repents—­O, sir, are you come? 
Is it your will? speak, sir.—­Prepare my horses.—­
[To Albany.]
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou show’st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster!

Albany.  Pray, sir, be patient.

Lear.  Detested kite! thou liest. [To Gonerill.]
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know;
And in the most exact regard support
The worships of their name.—­O most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! 
Which, like an engine, wrench’d my frame of nature
From the fixt place; drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall.  O Lear, Lear, Lear! 
Beat at the gate, that let thy folly in,
[Striking his head.]
And thy dear judgement out!—­Go, go, my people!

Albany.  My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath mov’d you.