Fool (english)

through the castle.
    I caught up to Oswald as he entered the great hall, where Lear was sitting on his throne, Regan sitting at his feet to one side, doing needlepoint, Cordelia at the other, playing with a doll.
    “The fool has violated the princess!” Oswald announced.
    “Pocket!” said Cordelia, dropping her doll and running to my side, sporting a great, goofy grin. She was perhaps eight then.
    Oswald stepped in front of me. “I found the fool rutting the princess Goneril like a rapacious goat, sire.”
    “’Tis not true, nuncle,” said I. “I was called to the lady’s solar this morning only to jest her out of a morning funk, which can be smelt upon her breath if you have doubts.”
    At that point Goneril came running into the room, trying to arrange her skirts as she moved. She stopped beside me and curtsied before her father. She was breathless, barefoot, and one breast peeked Cyclopean out the bodice of her gown. I snatched my coxcomb off her head with a jingle and concealed it behind my back.
    “There, fresh as a flower,” said I.
    “Hello, sister,” said Cordelia.
    “Morning, lamb,” said Goneril, blindfolding the pink-eyed Cyclops with a quick tuck.
    Lear scratched his beard and glared at his eldest daughter.

    “What ho, daughter,” said he. “Hast thou shagged a fool?”
    “Methinks any wench who shags a man hath shagged a fool, Father.”
    “That was a distinct no,” said I.
    “What is shagged?” asked Cordelia.
    “I saw it,” said Oswald.
    “Shag a man and shag a fool, one is the same as another,” said Goneril. “But this morning I have your Fool shagged, righteous and rowdy. I bonked him until he cried out for gods and horses to pull me off.”
    What was this? Was she hoping for more punishment?
    “That is so,” said Oswald. “I heard the call.”
    “Shagged, shagged, shagged!” said Goneril. “Oh, what is this I feel? Tiny bastard fools stirring in my womb. I can hear their tiny bells.”
    “You lying tart,” said I. “A fool is no more born with bells than a princess with fangs, both must be earned.”
    Lear said, “If that were true, Pocket, I’d have a halberd run up your bum.”
    “You can’t kill Pocket,” said Cordelia. “I’ll need him to cheer me when I’m visited by the red curse, and a horrible melancholy comes over me,” said Cordelia.
    “What are you on about, child?” said I.
    “All women get it,” said Cordelia. “They must be punished for Eve’s treachery in the garden of evil. Nurse says it makes you ever so miserable.”
    I patted the child’s head. “For fuck’s sake, sire, you’ve got to get the girls some teachers who aren’t nuns.”
    “I should be punished!” said Goneril.
    “I’ve had my curse for simply months,” said Regan, not even bothering to look up from her needlepoint. “I find that if I go to the dungeon and have some prisoners tortured I feel better.”
    “No, I want my Pocket,” said Cordelia, starting to whine now.

    “You can’t have him,” said Goneril. “He’s to be punished, too. After what he’s done.”
    Oswald bowed for no particular reason. “May I suggest his head on a pike on the London Bridge, sire, to discourage any more debauchery?”
    “Silence!” said Lear, standing. He came down the steps, walked past Oswald, who fell to his knees, and stood before me. He put his hand on Cordelia’s head.
    The old king locked his hawk’s gaze upon me. “She didn’t speak for three years before you came,” he said.
    “Aye, sire,” said I, looking down.
    He turned to Goneril. “Go to your quarters. Have your nurse tend to your illusions. She will see that there is no issue from it.”
    “But, Father, the fool and I-”
    “Nonsense, you’re a maid,” said Lear. “We have agreed to deliver you thus to the Duke of Albany and so it is true.”
    “Sire, the lady has been violated,” said Oswald, desperate now.
    “Guards! Take Oswald to the bailey and flog him twenty lashes for lying.”
    “But, sire!” Oswald squirmed as two guards seized his arms.
    “Twenty lashes to show my mercy! Another word of this, ever, and your head will decorate London Bridge.”
    We watched, stunned, as the guards dragged Oswald away, the unctuous footman weeping and red-faced from trying to hold his tongue.
    “May I go watch?” Goneril asked.
    “Go,” Lear said. “Then to your nurse.”
    Regan was on her feet now and had skipped to her father’s side. She looked at him hopefully, up on her toes,