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.

GONERIL.

Put on what weary negligence you please,

You and your fellows; I’d have it come to question:

If he distaste it, let him to our sister,

Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,

Not to be overruled. 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 us’d

With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus’d.

Remember what I have said.

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.