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.
OSWALD.
Very 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.]
