Enter Albany.
Lear. Woe, that too late repents—O, sir, are you come?
Is it your will? speak, sir.—Prepare my horses.—— |[To Albany.|
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou shew’st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster!
Albany. Pray, sir, be patient.
Lear. Detested kite! thou liest. |[To Gonerill.|
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know;