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Enter Goneril and her steward Oswald.
Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding [1] of his fool?
Osw. Ay, madam.
Gon. 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 [2] , and himself upbraids [3] us On every trifle [4] . When he returns from hunting, I will not speak with him: say I am sick. If you come slack [5] of former services, You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. Horns within.
Osw. He's coming, madam; I hear him.
Gon. Put on what weary negligence [6] 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 overrul'd. 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.
Osw. Very well, madam.
Gon. 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.
[1] chide [tʃaid] v． 责骂，责备
[2] riotous [ˈraiətəs] a． 暴乱的，骚动的
[3] upbraid [ʌpˈbreid] v． 责备，申斥
[4] trifle [ˈtraifl] n． 琐事，小事
[5] slack [slæk] a． 懈怠的，疏忽的
[6] negligence [ˈneɡlidʒəns] n. 疏忽，玩忽