Lear.  It may be so, my lord—­
Hear, nature, hear:  dear goddess, hear! 
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful! 
Into her womb convey sterility;
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her!  If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen:  that it may live,
To be a thwart disnatur’d torment to her! 
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother’s pains, and benefits,
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
To have a thankless child!—­Away, away!
[Exit.]

   Albany.  Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this?

   Gonerill.  Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
     But let his disposition have that scope
     That dotage gives it.

Re-enter Lear

Lear.  What, fifty of my followers at a clap! 
Within a fortnight!

Albany.  What’s the matter, sir?

Lear.  I’ll tell thee; life and death!  I am asham’d
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus: 
[To Gonerill.]
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them.—­Blasts and fogs upon thee! 
The untented woundings of a father’s curse
Pierce every sense about thee!—­Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again, I’ll pluck you out;
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay.—­Ha! is it come to this? 
Let it be so:—­Yet have I left a daughter,
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable;
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She’ll flay thy wolfish visage.  Thou shalt find
That I’ll resume the shape, which thou dost think
I have cast off forever.

   [Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants.]

This is certainly fine:  no wonder that Lear says after it, ’O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heavens,’ feeling its effects by anticipation:  but fine as is this burst of rage and indignation at the first blow aimed at his hopes and expectations, it is nothing near so fine as what follows from his double disappointment, and his lingering efforts to see which of them he shall lean upon for support and find comfort in, when both his daughters turn against his age and weakness.  It is with some difficulty that Lear gets to speak with his daughter Regan, and her husband, at Gloster’s castle.  In concert with Gonerill they have left their own home on purpose to avoid him.  His apprehensions are fast alarmed by this circumstance, and when Gloster, whose guests they are, urges the fiery temper of the Duke of Cornwall as an excuse for not importuning him a second time, Lear breaks out: 

     Vengeance!  Plague!  Death!  Confusion! 
     Fiery?  What fiery quality?  Why, Gloster,
     I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.