| [Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD, her steward] | |
| GONERIL | Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? |
| OSWALD | Yes, madam. |
| GONERIL | By day and night he wrongs me; every hour He flashes into one gross crime or other, That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it: His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, I will not speak with him; say I am sick: If you come slack of former services, You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. |
| OSWALD | He's coming, madam; I hear him. |
| [Horns within] | |
| GONERIL | Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your fellows; I'll have it come to question: If he dislike it, let him to our sister, Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man, That still would manage those authorities That he hath given away! Now, by my life, Old fools are babes again; and must be used With cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused. Remember what I tell you. |
| OSWALD | Well, madam. |
| GONERIL | And let his knights have colder looks among you; What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so: I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, That I may speak: I'll write straight to my sister, To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner. |
| [Exeunt] |