Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap?

           Within a fortnight?

        Alb. What's the matter, sir?

        Lear. I'll tell thee. [To Goneril] Life and death! I am asham'd

           That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;

           That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,

           Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!

           Th' untented woundings of a father's curse

           Pierce every sense about thee! – Old fond eyes,

           Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,

           And cast you, with the waters that you lose,

           To temper clay. Yea, is it come to this?

           Let it be so. Yet have I left a daughter,

           Who I am sure is kind and comfortable.

           When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails

           She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find

           That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think

           I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.

        Gon. Do you mark that, my lord?

        Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,

           To the great love I bear you -

        Gon. Pray you, content. – What, Oswald, ho!

           [To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, after your

      master!

        Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the fool with thee.