Page 1865 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

KENT

O pity! Sir, where is the patience now
That you so oft have boasted to retain?

EDGAR
(aside) My tears begin to take his part so much,
They mar my counterfeiting. [60]

LEAR

The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me.

EDGAR
Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite; [65]

Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, brach or lym;
Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail;
Tom will make him weep and wail;

For, with throwing thus my head, [70]
Dogs leap’d the hatch, and all are fled.
Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and fairs and market-towns.
Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

LEAR
Then let them anatomize Regan, see what breeds about her heart. Is there

any cause in nature that make [75] these hard hearts? (To Edgar.) You, sir, I
entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your
garments; you will say they are Persian; but let them be chang’d.

KENT
Now, good my Lord, lie here and rest awhile. [80]

LEAR

Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains: so, so. We’ll go to supper
i’th’morning.