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King Lear

Act 2, Scene 4

KENT in the stocks Enter LEAR, FOOL, and GENTLEMAN	KENT is in the stocks. LEAR enters with the FOOL and the GENTLEMAN.
LEAR ’Tis strange that they should so depart from home, And not send back my messenger.	LEAR It’s strange that Regan and her husband left their house without sending back my messenger.
GENTLEMAN As I learned, The night before there was no purpose in them Of this remove.	GENTLEMAN According to what I heard, they had no travel plans as of last night.
KENT (to LEAR) Hail to thee, noble master!	KENT (to LEAR) Hail, noble master!
LEAR Ha! Makest thou this shame thy pastime?	LEAR What’s this? Are you sitting around in this humiliation to amuse yourself?
KENT No, my lord.	KENT No, my lord.
FOOL Ha, ha! Look, he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs. When a man’s overlusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks.	FOOL Ha, ha! That’s a nasty garter belt. You tie up horses by their heads, dogs and bears by their necks, monkeys by their waists, and humans by their legs. When a person’s prone to wanderlust, he has to wear wooden socks, like a chastity belt around his ankles.
LEAR (to KENT) What’s he that hath so much thy place mistook To set thee here?	LEAR (to KENT) Who could have misunderstood your assigment so completely as to lock you up like this?
KENT It is both he and she: Your son and daughter.	KENT Your daughter and son-in-law.
LEAR No.	LEAR No.
KENT Yes.	KENT Yes.
LEAR No, I say.	LEAR I’m telling you “No.”
KENT I say “Yea.”	KENT And I’m telling you “Yes.”
LEAR No, no, they would not.	LEAR No, no, they wouldn’t.
KENT Yes, they have.	KENT Yes, they have.
LEAR By Jupiter, I swear “No.”	LEAR By the god Jupiter above, I swear “No.”
KENT By Juno, I swear “Ay.”	KENT By Jupiter’s wife Juno, I swear “Yes.”
LEAR They durst not do ’t. They could not, would not do ’t. ’Tis worse than murder To do upon respect such violent outrage. Resolve me with all modest haste which way Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage, Coming from us.	LEAR They wouldn’t dare. They couldn’t, they wouldn’t. It’s worse than murder to humiliate a king’s messenger like this. Tell me as quickly and clearly as you can what you did to deserve this punishment, or what made them think they could inflict it on you.
KENT My lord, when at their home I did commend your highness’ letters to them. Ere I was risen from the place that showed My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stewed in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress salutations, Delivered letters spite of intermission, Which presently they read, on whose contents They summoned up their meiny, straight took horse, Commanded me to follow and attend The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks. And meeting here the other messenger, Whose welcome I perceived had poisoned mine— Being the very fellow which of late Displayed so saucily against your highness— Having more man than wit about me, drew. He raised the house with loud and coward cries. Your son and daughter found this trespass worth The shame which here it suffers.	KENT My lord, when I arrived at their home I gave them your letter. Before I had a chance to get up from my respectful kneeling position, Goneril’s messenger arrived, stinky, sweaty, and out of breath. He interrupted me, spouted out greetings from her, and delivered her letter, which they opened immediately. After reading it, they gathered their entourage together and got on their horses to go. They glared at me and ordered me to follow them and wait for their answer. After we arrived here, I ran into that other messenger who made them give me the cold shoulder—the very same guy who was so rude to you, King. I admit it was foolish to draw my sword on him, but I had to act like a man. He woke up the whole house with his loud and cowardly screams. That’s why your daughter and son-in-law are punishing me shamefully.
FOOL Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. Fathers that wear rags Do make their children blind. But fathers that bear bags Shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant whore, Ne’er turns the key to th’ poor. But for all this thou shalt have as many dolors for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.	FOOL This story bodes more stormy weather. Fathers who wear rags Make their children neglect them. But fathers who are rich Make their children kind. Lady Luck is a fickle whore And never gives the poor a break. But despite all this, your daughters will give you a lot of money—or do I mean pain?—in the coming year.
LEAR O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow. Thy element’s below.—Where is this daughter?	LEAR I’m getting hysterical. I feel my stomach squeezing up against my heart. Calm down, you belong lower down!—Where is this daughter of mine?
KENT With the earl, sir, here within.	KENT Inside, sir, with the earl.
LEAR Follow me not. Stay here.	LEAR Don’t follow me. Stay here.
Exit LEAR	He exits.
GENTLEMAN Made you no more offense but what you speak of?	GENTLEMAN You didn’t do anything else to earn this punishment?
KENT None. How chance the king comes with so small a train?	KENT Nothing. Tell me, why did the king arrive with such a small entourage?
FOOL An thou hadst been set i’ th’ stocks for that question, thou’dst well deserved it.	FOOL If they’d put you in the stocks for asking that question, you would’ve deserved it.
KENT Why, Fool?	KENT Why, Fool?
FOOL We’ll set thee to school to an ant to teach thee there’s no laboring i’ th’ winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men, and there’s not a nose among twenty but can smell him that’s stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it. But the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee 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 for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack when it begins to rain And leave thee 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, perdie.	FOOL You need to learn what ants know well about winter—there’s no point in slaving away if there’s no hope for profit. Serving the king will get you nowhere. Everyone can see that, and even blind men can smell the stench of his misery now. When you see a huge wheel rolling down a hill, you shouldn’t try to hold on to it or it’ll break your neck. But if you see a wheel going uphill, latch on for the ride. And when a wise man gives you better advice than I just did, give me my advice back again. I only want idiots following my advice, the advice of a fool. The gentleman who serves you only for profit And is only superficially loyal to you Will take off when it starts to rain And leave you alone in the storm. But I’ll linger. The fool will stay. And let the wise man run away. The servant who runs away is a fool. But this fool is no scoundrel, by God.
KENT Where learned you this, Fool?	KENT Where did you learn that song, Fool?
FOOL Not i’ th’ stocks, fool.	FOOL Not in the stocks, fool.
Enter LEAR and GLOUCESTER	LEAR and GLOUCESTER enter.
LEAR Deny to speak with me? They are sick? They are weary? They have traveled all the night?—mere fetches, ay! The images of revolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer.	LEAR How can they refuse to speak with me? How can they say that they’re sick or exhausted or that they have traveled all night!? They’re playing with me. These are tricks. This is rebellion. Go ask them again and make them see me this time.
GLOUCESTER My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the duke, How unremoveable and fixed he is In his own course.	GLOUCESTER My dear lord, you know how passionately stubborn the duke is. He never changes his mind.
LEAR Vengeance, plague, death, confusion! “Fiery”? What “quality”? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.	LEAR Hell! Damn it all to hell! “Passionately”? What “passion”? Gloucester, Gloucester, I want to speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
GLOUCESTER Well, my good lord, I have informed them so.	GLOUCESTER My lord, I informed them as much.
LEAR “Informed them”? Dost thou understand me, man?	LEAR “Informed them”? Do you understand what I’m saying, man?
GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord.	GLOUCESTER Yes, my lord.
LEAR The king would speak with Cornwall. The dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends service. Are they “informed” of this? My breath and blood! “Fiery”? The “fiery” duke? Tell the hot duke that Lear— No, but not yet. Maybe he is not well. Infirmity doth still neglect all office Whereto 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. (notices KENT again) Death on my state! Wherefore Should he sit here? This act persuades me That this remotion of the duke and her Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. Go tell the duke and ’s 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 cry sleep to death.	LEAR The king wants to speak with Cornwall. The father wants to speak with his daughter. He orders them—he begs them. Did you inform them of that? This is unbelievable! “Passionate”? The “passionate” duke? Tell the hot-headed duke that I… But no, not yet. Maybe he’s not feeling well. When we’re ill we can’t carry out our duties as well as when we’re healthy. When our bodies are out of order, our minds can’t function properly. I’ll hold off, and subdue my impulsive temper, which makes me judge a sick man as if he were well. (he notices KENT again) A curse on my royal power! Why should he sit here like this? The fact that they punished him convinces me that Regan and the duke are avoiding me on purpose. I want my servant released. Go tell the duke and his wife I’ll speak to them right now, at once. Tell them to come here and hear me out, or else I’ll beat a drum at their bedroom door until they can’t sleep any more.
GLOUCESTER I would have all well betwixt you.	GLOUCESTER I just want everything to be all right between you.
Exit GLOUCESTER	GLOUCESTER exits.
LEAR O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down.	LEAR Oh, my heart, my heart is rising into my throat! Stay down, heart.
FOOL Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ’em i’ th’ paste alive. She knapped ’em o’ th’ coxcombs with a stick and cried, “Down, wantons, down!” ’Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.	FOOL That’s right, uncle, talk to your heart, like the housewife who yelled at the eels she was putting in her pie. She hit ’em on the head with a stick and shouted, “Down, you naughty things, down!” That was the woman whose brother wanted to be nice to his horse, and buttered its hay.
Enter the Duke of CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and servants	The Duke of CORNWALL, REGAN, and GLOUCESTER enter with their servants.
LEAR Good morrow to you both.	LEAR Good morning to you both.
CORNWALL Hail to your grace.	CORNWALL Hail to your majesty.
KENT here set at liberty	KENT is set free.
REGAN I am glad to see your highness.	REGAN I’m glad to see your highness.
LEAR Regan, I think you are. I know what reason I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother’s tomb, Sepulchring an adultress. (to KENT) Oh, are you free? Some other time for that.	LEAR I believe you are, Regan. You know why I think so? Because if you weren’t glad, I’d divorce your dead mother, because I’d know she cheated on me. Any true daughter of mine would definitely be glad to see me. (to KENT) Oh, are you free? We’ll talk about it later.
Exit KENT	KENT exits.
Belovèd Regan, Thy sister’s naught. O Regan, she hath tied Sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here. (indicates his heart) I can scarce speak to thee. Thou’lt not believe With how depraved a quality— O Regan!	My dear Regan, your sister’s not worth anything. Oh, Regan, she’s torn me apart with unkindness, like a vulture, right here. (points to his heart) I can hardly speak. You’ll never believe how monstrously—oh, Regan!
REGAN I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope You less know how to value her desert Than she to scant her duty.	REGAN Calm down, sir, please. I hope there’s been a misunderstanding. It’s more likely that you don’t know how to appreciate her than that she’d ever fail in her duties as a daughter.
LEAR Say, how is that?	LEAR How do you mean?
REGAN I cannot think my sister in the least Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance She have restrained the riots of your followers, ’Tis on such ground and to such wholesome end As clears her from all blame.	REGAN I can’t believe my sister would neglect her obligations in any way. If she restrained your rowdy knights, she had such a good reason that you can’t blame her for it.
LEAR My curses on her!	LEAR I curse her.
REGAN O 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, sir.	REGAN Sir, you’re old. Your life is stretched to its limit. You should let others take care of you and submit to people who know better than you do what’s good for you. Please go back to Goneril’s house. Admit you were wrong.
LEAR Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark how this becomes the house?— (kneels) “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.”	LEAR Apologize? Do you think this kind of thing is appropriate for the royal family? (he kneels) “Dear daughter, I admit I’m old. Old people are useless. I’m begging you, on my knees, to give me food, clothes, and a bed.”
REGAN Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks. Return you to my sister.	REGAN No more, please. These are ugly antics. Go back to my sister’s.
LEAR (rising) Never, Regan. She hath abated me of half my train, Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue, Most serpentlike, upon the very heart. All the stored vengeances of heaven fall On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, You taking airs, with lameness!	LEAR (getting up) Never, Regan. She’s sent away half my knights, glared at me, and aimed her venomous insults straight at my heart. She and her ingratitude can go to hell! I hope she gets sick and becomes lame!
CORNWALL Fie, sir, fie!	CORNWALL Shush, sir, please!
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!	LEAR I hope lightning strikes her in the eyes! I hope poisonous swampy fog covers her face and ruins her complexion!
REGAN O the blessed gods! So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on.	REGAN Oh, dear gods! That’s how you’ll talk about me when you’re in this mood.
LEAR No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse. Thy tender-hafted 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’ th’ kingdom hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endowed.	LEAR No, Regan. I’ll never curse you. You’re so gentle, you’d never be harsh like her. Her eyes are vicious, but yours are comforting. You’d never deny me my pleasures, downsize my entourage, insult me thoughtlessly, reduce my allowance, or lock me out of the house. You know better than she does how important the duties of a child to a parent are, and the responsibilities that come from gratitude. You haven’t forgotten the half of a kingdom I gave you.
REGAN Good sir, to the purpose.	REGAN Sir, let’s get to the point.
LEAR Who put my man i’ th’ stocks?	LEAR Who put my messenger in the stocks?
Tucket within	Trumpets play offstage.
CORNWALL What trumpet’s that?	CORNWALL What’s that trumpet?
Enter OSWALD the steward	OSWALD enters.
REGAN I know ’t—my sister’s. This approves her letter That she would soon be here. (to OSWALD) Is your lady come?	REGAN I know it. It’s my sister’s. She’ll be here soon, just like her letter said. (to OSWALD) Has my sister arrived?
LEAR This is a slave whose easy borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.— Out, varlet, from my sight!	LEAR This is a lowlife who basks in the reflection of the fading glory of the woman he works for.—Get out of my sight, scoundrel!
CORNWALL What means your grace?	CORNWALL What do you mean, your highness?
Enter GONERIL	GONERIL enters.
LEAR Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope Thou didst not know on ’t.—Who comes here? O heavens, 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! (to GONERIL) Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?— O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?	LEAR Who put my servant in the stocks? Regan, I hope you didn’t know anything about that.—Ah, who’s this? Dear gods, if you love old men like me, if you believe in obedience, if you yourselves are old, then please send me down some help! (to GONERIL) Aren’t you ashamed to look at me after the way you’ve treated me in my old age?—Oh, Regan, are you taking her by the hand?
GONERIL Why not by th’ hand, sir? How have I offended? All’s not offense that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so.	GONERIL Why shouldn’t she take my hand, father? How exactly have I offended you? Just because a senile man with poor judgment calls something an insult doesn’t necessarily mean it is one.
LEAR O sides, you are too tough. Will you yet hold?—How came my man i’ th’ stocks?	LEAR Oh, how can the sides of my body hold in my grieving heart?—How did my messenger wind up in the stocks?
CORNWALL I set him there, sir, but his own disorders Deserved much less advancement.	CORNWALL I sent him there, sir, but his crimes deserved a worse punishment.
LEAR You! Did you?	LEAR You! You did it?
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.	REGAN Please, father, since you’re weak, act like it. Get rid of half your knights and go back to spend the rest of your month with my sister. Afterward, you can stay with me. Right now I’m away from home and I can’t provide you with proper care.
LEAR Return to her, and fifty men dismissed? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To be a comrade with the wolf and owl— To wage against the enmity o’ th’ 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, squirelike, pension beg To keep base life afoot. Return with her? Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter To this detested groom. (indicates OSWALD)	LEAR Go back with her? Send away fifty of my knights? No. I’d rather renounce living in a house, and wander in the open air in the hardships of poverty, as a friend of the wolf and the owl. Go back with her? I might as well go before the King of France, who took my youngest daughter without a dowry, kneel before his throne, and beg him to give me a tiny pension to stay alive. Go back with her? I’d rather be a slave or a packhorse for this hateful stablehand here. (he points to OSWALD)
GONERIL At your choice, sir.	GONERIL As you wish, sir.
LEAR Now, I prithee, 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 embossèd 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.	LEAR I beg you, daughter, don’t make me crazy. I won’t bother you. We’ll never see each other again. But you’re still my child, my flesh and blood—or rather you’re a disease in my flesh, a disease I still have to call my own. You’re a pustule, a sore, a tumor digesting my bloodline. But I’ll stop rebuking you. You’ll feel shame when the time is right, and I don’t urge you to be ashamed now. I won’t beg the gods to punish you, or caution you to fear their judgment. Become a better person when you’re ready, if you’re inclined. I’ll wait patiently. Meanwhile I’ll stay with Regan with my hundred knights.
REGAN Not altogether so, sir. 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.	REGAN It’s not quite that simple. I wasn’t expecting you, and I’m not ready to receive you. Please hear what Goneril is saying. We’re trying to be reasonable while you’re so upset, and we understand that you’re old, and… But Goneril knows what she’s doing.
LEAR Is this well spoken now?	LEAR Do you mean what you’ve just said?
REGAN I dare avouch 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 Speak ’gainst so great a number? How, in one house, Should many people under two commands Hold amity? ’Tis hard; almost impossible.	REGAN Yes, I do. Isn’t fifty knights enough for you? Why would you need more than that? Or even that many. Fifty knights are expensive to maintain, and there’s always a risk they’ll rebel. How could so many people, under two masters, get along under one roof? It would be hard, almost impossible.
GONERIL Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance From those that she calls servants, or from mine?	GONERIL Why couldn’t you be attended by my servants, or by Regan’s?
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 five and twenty. To no more Will I give place or notice.	REGAN Yes, why not, my lord? Then if they’re negligent, we could control them. Now that I think about the danger of these knights, if you come to stay with me, please bring no more than twenty-five of them with you. I won’t lodge any more than that under my roof.
LEAR I gave you all—	LEAR I gave you everything—
REGAN And in good time you gave it.	REGAN And it was about time too.
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 five and twenty, Regan? Said you so?	LEAR I made you de facto rulers of my kingdom on condition that I could keep a hundred knights of my own. Why should I now have to make do with only twenty-five? Regan, is that what you said?
REGAN And speak ’t again, my lord. No more with me.	REGAN Yes, I’ll say it again, my lord. No more than twenty-five.
LEAR Those wicked creatures yet do look well favored When others are more wicked. Not being the worst Stands in some rank of praise. (to GONERIL) I’ll go with thee. Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, And thou art twice her love.	LEAR Bad people start to look better in comparison with worse people. Not being the worst daughter deserves some praise, I guess. (to GONERIL) I’ll go stay with you, then. Your fifty is twice her twenty-five, so you must love me twice as much as she does.
GONERIL Hear me, my lord. What need you five and twenty, ten, or five To follow in a house where twice so many Have a command to tend you?	GONERIL Hear me out, my lord. Why do you need twenty-five knights, or ten, or even five, when you’re staying in a house with a staff of double that at your service?
REGAN What need one?	REGAN Why do you need even one?
LEAR O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man’s life’s as cheap as beast’s. 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.	LEAR Oh, don’t ask me why I “need” them! Even the poorest beggars have some meager possessions they don’t really “need.” If you allow people no more than what they absolutely need to survive, then a human life is no better than an animal’s. You’re a well-dressed lady. If you dressed only to stay warm, you wouldn’t need these gorgeous clothes you’re wearing—which don’t keep you warm at all. If you want to talk about true needs, what I really need is patience. Oh, gods, give me patience! You see me here, gods, a grieving old man, as wretched in his grief as he is in his old age. If you’re the ones setting my daughters against me, don’t let me be foolish enough to take it lying down. Give me noble anger, and don’t let any womanly tears fall down my man’s cheeks. No, you monstrous hags, I’ll get revenge on you both that will make the whole world… I will do such things—I don’t know what I’ll do exactly, but it’ll be devastating. You expect me to cry? Well, I won’t.
Storm and tempest	A storm breaks out.
I have full cause of weeping, but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I’ll weep.—O Fool, I shall go mad!	I have a good reason to cry, but my heart will splinter into a hundred thousand pieces before I let myself cry.—Oh, Fool, I’ll go mad!
Exeunt LEAR, GENTLEMAN, FOOL, and GLOUCESTER	King LEAR, the GENTLEMAN, and the FOOL exit with GLOUCESTER.
CORNWALL Let us withdraw. ’Twill be a storm.	CORNWALL Let’s go inside. There’s going to be a storm.
REGAN This house is little. The old man and his people Cannot be well bestowed.	REGAN This is a small house. There’s no room for the old man and his followers.
GONERIL ’Tis his own blame. Hath put himself from rest, And must needs taste his folly.	GONERIL It’s his fault that he’s all worked up like this. He has to pay the price for his foolish actions.
REGAN For his particular I’ll receive him gladly, But not one follower.	REGAN I’ll be happy to keep him in my house, but not a single knight.
GONERIL So am I purposed. Where is my lord of Gloucester?	GONERIL That’s what I intend to do too. Where is Gloucester?
CORNWALL Followed the old man forth. He is returned.	CORNWALL He followed the old man. Here he comes back.
Enter GLOUCESTER	GLOUCESTER returns.
GLOUCESTER The king is in high rage.	GLOUCESTER The king is enraged.
CORNWALL Whither is he going?	CORNWALL Where’s he going?
GLOUCESTER He calls to horse, but will I know not whither.	GLOUCESTER He has called for his horse, but I don’t know where he’s headed.
CORNWALL ’Tis best to give him way. He leads himself.	CORNWALL It’s best just to let him go. He won’t listen to anyone’s advice.
GONERIL (to GLOUCESTER) My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.	GONERIL (to GLOUCESTER) My lord, don’t try to persuade him to stay.
GLOUCESTER Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about There’s scarce a bush.	GLOUCESTER Ah, but it’s getting dark, and the winds are strong and stormy. There’s hardly a bush for miles around. He’ll have no shelter.
REGAN O sir, to wilful men, The injuries that they themselves procure Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. He is attended with a desperate train. And what they may incense him to, being apt To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.	REGAN Oh, sir, impetuous people learn their lessons from the consequences of their foolish actions. Lock the doors. His attendants are desperate, violent men. I’m afraid of what they might encourage him to do, considering the state he’s in.
CORNWALL Shut up your doors, my lord. ’Tis a wild night. My Regan counsels well. Come out o’ th’ storm.	CORNWALL Lock the doors, my lord. It’s a wild night. Regan gives good advice. Come in out of the storm.
Exeunt	They all exit.