A Room in the Duke of Albany's Palace.
 Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD her Steward.

Goneril	Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his Fool?

Oswald	Ay, madam.

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.
												[Horns within.
Oswald	He's coming, madam; I hear him.

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 my 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 used
	With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abused.
	Remember what I have said.

Oswald									Well, madam.

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.
												[Exeunt.
