the next sentence, he is in unmeasured rage with the steward for his insolent reply, and has no control over his tongue or his hands: “My lady's father my lord's knave you whoreson dog you slave you cur !” “Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? [Striking him.]” Enough of Lear's violence, both in language and con duct is manifested, to confirm the truth of Goneril's harsh
accusations. It must be owned that the old king has a terrible tongue, and a quick and heavy hand. The slightest opposition throws him into violent and out rageous speech and behaviour, little likely to be endured with patience, except by those who have strong motives for it in love or duty or interest.
It is strange, however,
with what patience he endures the bitter taunts and sarcasm of his fool. They seem only to pique his curiosity, and to excite his interest in the gladiatorial display of wit and folly. The fool, indeed, is “a bitter fool,” “a pestilent gall,” but his taunts are elicited, not repressed ; and the “all-licensed fool” says to his master's face, and without a word of reproof, fifty times more than had brought upon Kent his cruel sentence of banishment. But the talk with the fool is only a lull in the storm. Goneril enters with a frontlet of frowns, and in a set
speech—harsh in its rythm even, and crabbed in its diction—she
accuses
her
old
father
of
the
rank
and
not to be endured riots of his insolent retinue ; charges him with allowing and protecting it, and threatens to apply instant redress, whether it offend him or not. Too much astonished to be angry, he exclaims, “Are you our daughter ?” She retorts with accusations personal to himself, forcibly conveying the impression of Lear's changed state at this period; a point important to the view here maintained, that from the first the old king's mind is off its balance.
