Act IVScene III
The French camp near Dover
Enter Kent and a Gentleman.
Kent
Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back, know you no reason?
Gentleman
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 required and necessary.
Kent
Who hath he left behind him general?
Gentleman
The Mareschal of France, Monsieur La Far.
Kent
Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief?
Gentleman
Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;And now and then an ample tear trill’d downHer delicate cheek. It seem’d she was a queenOver her passion; who, most rebel-like,Sought to be king o’er her.
Kent
O, then it mov’d her.
Gentleman
Not to a rage: patience and sorrow stroveWho should express her goodliest. You have seenSunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tearsWere like a better day. Those happy smiletsThat play’d on her ripe lip seem’d not to knowWhat guests were in her eyes; which parted thenceAs pearls from diamonds dropp’d. In brief,Sorrow would be a rarity most belov’d,If all could so become it.
Kent
Made she no verbal question?
Gentleman
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’ the storm? i’ the night?Let pity not be believ’d!’ There she shookThe holy water from her heavenly eyes,And clamour master’d her: then away she startedTo deal with grief alone.
Kent
It is the stars,The stars above us govern our conditions;Else one self mate and make could not begetSuch different issues. You spoke not with her since?
Gentleman
No.
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, remembersWhat we are come about, and by no meansWill 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 herTo foreign casualties, gave her dear rightsTo his dog-hearted daughters, these things stingHis mind so venomously that burning shameDetains him from Cordelia.
Gentleman
Alack, poor gentleman!
Kent
Of Albany’s and Cornwall’s powers you heard not?
Gentleman
’Tis so; they are afoot.
Kent
Well, sir, I’ll bring you to our master LearAnd leave you to attend him. Some dear causeWill in concealment wrap me up awhile;When I am known aright, you shall not grieveLending me this acquaintance.I pray you, go along with me.
Exeunt.