Lear.  No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse;
     Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
     Thee o’er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
     Do comfort, and not burn:  ’Tis 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 know’st
     The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
     Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
     Thy half o’ the kingdom thou hast not forgot,
     Wherein I thee endow’d.

   Regan.  Good sir, to the purpose. [Trumpets within]

   Lear.  Who put my man i’ the stocks?

   Cornwall.  What trumpet’s that?

   Enter Steward

   Regan.  I know’t, my sister’s; this approves her letter,
     That she would soon be here.—­Is your lady come?

   Lear.  This is a slave, whose easy-borrow’d pride
     Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows:—­
     Out, varlet, from my sight!

   Cornwall.  What means your grace?

Lear.  Who stock’d my servant?  Regan, I have good   hope
Thou did’st not know on’t.—­Who comes here?  O   heavens,

  Enter Gonerill

     If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
     Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,
     Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!—­
     Art not asham’d to look upon this beard?—­
               [To Gonerill.]
     O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

   Gonerill.  Why not by the hand, sir?  How have I
     offended? 
     All’s not offence, that indiscretion finds,
     And dotage terms so.

   Lear.  O, sides, you are too tough! 
     Will you yet hold?—­How came my man i’ the stocks?

   Cornwall.  I set him there, sir:  but his own disorders
     Deserv’d much less advancement.

   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 dismiss’d? 
     No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
     To be a comrade with the wolf and owl—­
     To wage against the enmity o’ the air,
     Necessity’s 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. [Looking on the Steward.]

   Gonerill.  At your choice, sir.