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Home » Quotes » King Lear » Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an angler

Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an angler

Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an
angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and
beware the foul fiend.
Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a
gentleman or a yeoman.
A king, a king!
No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his
son, for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a
gentleman before him.
To have a thousand with red burning spits
Come hissing in upon 'em!
The foul fiend bites my back.
He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a
horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.
It shall be done. I will arraign them straight.
To Edgar. Come, sit thou here, most learnèd justice.
To Fool. Thou sapient sir, sit here. Now,  you
Look where he stands and glares!—Want'st
thou eyes at trial, madam?

Come o'er the burn,  Bessy, to me—

Fool sings

Her boat hath a leak,
And she must not speak
Why she dares not come over to thee.

The foul fiend haunts Poor Tom in the voice of
a nightingale. Hoppedance cries in Tom's belly for
two white herring.—Croak not, black angel. I have
no food for thee.
Kent, to Lear  
How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed.
Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?
I'll see their trial first. Bring in their evidence.
To Edgar. Thou robèd man of justice, take thy place,
To Fool. And thou, his yokefellow of equity,
Bench by his side.
To Kent. You are o' th' commission;
Sit you, too.
Let us deal justly.

Sleepest or wakest, thou jolly shepherd?
Thy sheep be in the corn.
And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,
Thy sheep shall take no harm.

Purr the cat is gray.
Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my oath
before this honorable assembly, kicked the poor
king her father.
Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?
She cannot deny it.
Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint stool.
And here's another whose warped looks proclaim
What store her heart is made on. Stop her there!
Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place!
False justicer, why hast thou let her ‘scape?
Bless thy five wits!
Kent, to Lear
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.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me.
Tom will throw his head at them.—Avaunt, you curs!

Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite,
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, brach, or lym,
Bobtail tike, or trundle-tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail;
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leapt 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.
Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds
about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that
make 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 changed.
Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile.
Lear, lying down
Make no noise, make no noise. Draw the curtains.
So, so, we'll go to supper i' th' morning.
And I'll go to bed at noon.

Act 3
Scene 6
Line 6

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Demons & Madness