Enter Gonerill.
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,
Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!—
Art not asham’d to look upon this beard?— |[To Gonerill.|
O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?
Gonerill. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?
All’s not offence, that indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms so.
Lear. O, sides, you are too tough!