[Points to his heart.]
I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe
With how deprav'd a quality--O Regan!

Reg.
I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope
You less know how to value her desert
Than she to scant her duty.

Lear.
Say, how is that?

Reg.
I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.

Lear.
My curses on her!

Reg.
O, sir, you are old;
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be rul'd and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wrong'd her, sir.