I know that voice
I know that voice.
Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flattered
me like a dog and told me I had the white hairs in
my beard ere the black ones were there. To say “ay”
and “no” to everything that I said “ay” and “no” to
was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me
once and the wind to make me chatter, when the
thunder would not peace at my biddingAnthimeria, there I
found ’em, there I smelt ’em out. Go to. They are
not men o’ their words; they told me I was everything.
’Tis a lie. I am not ague-proof.
The trick of that voice I do well remember.
Is ‘t not the King?
Ay, every inch a king.
When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause?
Adultery? Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No.
The wren goes to ‘t, and the small gilded fly does
lecher in my sight. Let copulation thrive, for
Gloucester's bastard son was kinder to his father
than my daughters got ‘tween the lawful sheets. To
‘t, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. Behold yond
simp'ring dame, whose face between her forks
presages snow, that minces virtue and does shake
the head to hear of pleasure's name. The fitchew
nor the soiled horse goes to ‘t with a more riotous
appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs,
though women all above. But to the girdle do the
gods inherit; beneath is all the fiend's. There's hell,
there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit; burning,
scalding, stench, consumption! Fie, fie, fie, pah,
pah! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary;
sweeten my imagination. There's money for thee.
O, let me kiss that hand!
Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.