Act IV, Scene 3
The French camp near Dover.
- Enter Kent and First Gentleman.
Kent1 - 2
- Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back, know you no
First Gentleman3 - 6
- Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his
- coming forth is thought of, which imports to the kingdom so
- much fear and danger that his personal return was most
- requir’d and necessary.
- Who hath he left behind him general?
- The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Fer.
Kent9 - 10
- Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of
First Gentleman11 - 15
- 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,
- Sought to be king o’er her.
- O then it mov’d her.
First Gentleman17 - 25
- 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
- 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,
- If all could so become it.
- Made she no verbal question?
First Gentleman27 - 34
- Faith, once or twice she heav’d the name of “father”
- Pantingly forth, as if it press’d her heart;
- Cried, “Sisters, sisters! Shame of ladies, sisters!
- Kent! Father! Sisters! What, i’ th’ storm? I’ th’ night?
- Let pity not be believ’d!” There she shook
- The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
- And, clamor-moistened, then away she started
- To deal with grief alone.
Kent35 - 38
- It is the stars,
- The stars above us, govern our conditions,
- Else one self mate and make could not beget
- Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?
- Was this before the King return’d?
- No, since.
Kent42 - 45
- Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear’s i’ th’ town,
- Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
- What we are come about, and by no means
- Will yield to see his daughter.
- Why, good sir?
Kent47 - 52
- 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
- To his dog-hearted daughters—these things sting
- His mind so venomously, that burning shame
- Detains him from Cordelia.
- Alack, poor gentleman!
- Of Albany’s and Cornwall’s powers you heard not?
- ’Tis so, they are afoot.
Kent56 - 61
- 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
- Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you go
- Along with me.