Fool

Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to

care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a

figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool,

thou art nothing.

[To GONERIL]

Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face

bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,

He that keeps nor crust nor crum,

Weary of all, shall want some.

[Pointing to KING LEAR]

That’s a shealed peascod.