Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD, her steward.
GONERIL: Did my father strike my gentleman
for chiding of his fool?
OSWALD: Yes, madam.
GONERIL: 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, and himself upbraids us
On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,
I will not speak with him; say I am sick:
If you come slack of former services, 
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.
OSWALD: He's coming, madam; I hear him.
GONERIL: Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question:
If he dislike it, let him to our sister, 
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-ruled. 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 used 
With checks as flatteries,--when they are seen abused.
Remember what I tell you.