ACT IV SCENE III | The French camp near Dover. | |
[Enter KENT and a Gentleman] |
KENT | Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back |
| know you the reason? |
Gentleman | Something he left imperfect in the |
| state, which since his coming forth is thought |
| of; which imports to the kingdom so much | 5 |
| fear and danger, that his personal return was |
| most required and necessary. |
KENT | Who hath he left behind him general? |
Gentleman | The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. |
KENT | Did your letters pierce the queen to any | 10 |
| demonstration of grief? |
Gentleman | Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence; |
| And now and then an ample tear trill'd down |
| Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen |
| Over her passion; who, most rebel-like, | 15 |
| Sought to be king o'er her. |
KENT | O, then it moved her. |
Gentleman | Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove |
| Who should express her goodliest. You have seen |
| Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears | 20 |
| Were like a better way: those happy smilets, |
| That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know |
| What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence, |
| As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief, |
| Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved, | 25 |
| If all could so become it. |
KENT | Made she no verbal question? |
Gentleman | 'Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father' |
| Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart: |
| Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters! | 30 |
| Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night? |
| Let pity not be believed!' There she shook |
| The holy water from her heavenly eyes, |
| And clamour moisten'd: then away she started |
| To deal with grief alone. | 35 |
KENT | It is the stars, |
| The stars above us, govern our conditions; |
| Else one self mate and mate could not beget |
| Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? |
Gentleman | No. | 40 |
KENT | Was this before the king return'd? |
Gentleman | No, since. |
KENT | Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town; |
| Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers |
| What we are come about, and by no means | 45 |
| Will yield to see his daughter. |
Gentleman | Why, good sir? |
KENT | A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness, |
| That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her |
| To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights | 50 |
| To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting |
| His mind so venomously, that burning shame |
| Detains him from Cordelia. |
Gentleman | Alack, poor gentleman! |
KENT | Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? | 55 |
Gentleman | 'Tis so, they are afoot. |
KENT | Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear, |
| And leave you to attend him: some dear cause |
| Will in concealment wrap me up awhile; |
| When I am known aright, you shall not grieve | 60 |
| Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go |
| Along with me. |
[Exeunt] |