Introductory matter
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
The story of this tragedy had found its way into many ballads
and other metrical pieces; yet Shakspeare seems to have been
more indebted to The True Chronicle History of King Leir and
his Three Daughters, Gonorill, Ragan, and Cordella, 1605,
(which I have already published at the end of a collection of the
quarto copies) than to all the other performances together. It
appears from the books at Stationers' Hall, that some play on this
subject was entered by Edward White, May 14, 1594. “A
booke entituled, The moste famous Chronicle Hystorie of Leire
King of England, and his Three Daughters.” A piece with the
same title is entered again, May 8, 1605; and again Nov. 26,
1607. See the extracts from these Entries at the end of the
Prefaces, &c. vol. iii. From The Mirror of Magistrates, 1587,
Shakspeare has, however, taken the hint for the behaviour of the
Steward, and the reply of Cordelia to her father concerning her
future marriage. The episode of Gloster and his sons must have
been borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, as I have not found the
least trace of it in any other work. I have referred to these
pieces, wherever our author seems more immediately to have
followed them, in the course of my notes on the play. For the
first King Lear, see likewise Six old Plays on which Shakspeare
founded, &c. published for S. Leacroft, Charing-Cross.
The reader will also find the story of K. Lear, in the second
book and 10th canto of Spenser's Fairy Queen, and in the 15th
chapter of the third book of Warner's Albion's England, 1602.
The whole of this play, however, could not have been written
till after 1603. Harsnet's pamphlet to which it contains so many
references, (as will appear in the notes,) was not published till
that year.
Steevens.
Camden, in his Remains, (p. 306, ed. 1674,) tells a similar
story to this of Leir or Lear, of Ina king of the West Saxons;
which, if the thing ever happened, probably was the real origin
of the fable. See under the head of Wise Speeches.
Percy.
The story told by Camden in his Remaines, 4to. 1605, is this:
“Ina, king of West Saxons, had three daughters, of whom
upon a time he demanded whether they did love him, and so
would do during their lives, above all others: the two elder sware
deeply they would; the youngest, but the wisest, told her father
flatly, without flattery, that albeit she did love, honour, and reverence
him, and so would whilst she lived, as much as nature
-- 3 --
and daughterly dutie at the uttermost could expect, “yet she did
think that one day it would come to passe that she should affect
another more fervently, meaning her husband, when she were
married;” who being made one flesh with her, as God by commandement
had told, and nature had taught her, she was to
cleave fast to, forsaking father and mother, kiffe and kinne.
[Anonymous.] One referreth this to the daughters of King
Leir.”
It is, I think, more probable that Shakspeare had this passage
in his thoughts, when he wrote Cordelia's reply concerning her
future marriage, than The Mirrour for Magistrates, as Camden's
book was published recently before he appears to have composed
this play, and that portion of it which is entitled Wise Speeches,
where the foregoing passage is found, furnished him with a hint
in Coriolanus.
The story of King Leir and his three daughters was originally
told by Geoffrey of Monmouth, from whom Holinshed transcribed
it; and in his Chronicle Shakspeare had certainly read it, as it
occurs not far from that of Cymbeline; though the old play on
the same subject probably first suggested to him the idea of
making it the groundwork of a tragedy.
Geoffrey of Monmouth says, that Leir, who was the eldest son
of Bladud, “nobly governed his country for sixty years.” According
to that historian, he died about 800 years before the birth of
Christ.
The name of Leir's youngest daughter, which in Geoffrey's
hystory, in Holinshed, The Mirrour for Magistrates, and the old
anonymous play, is Cordeilla, Cordila, or Cordella, Shakspeare
found softened into Cordelia by Spenser in his Second Book,
Canto X. The names of Edgar and Edmund were probably suggested
by Holinshed. See his Chronicle, vol. i. p. 122: “Edgar,
the son of Edmund, brother of Athelstane,” &c.
This tragedy, I believe, was written in 1605. See An Attempt
to ascertain the Order of Shakspeare's Plays, vol. ii.
As the episode of Gloster and his sons is undoubtedly formed
on the story of the blind king of Paphlagonia in Sidney's Arcadia,
I shall subjoin it, at the end of the play.
Malone.
Of this play there are three quarto copies, all dated 1608, and
printed for the same bookseller, Nathaniel Butter. That which I
have distinguished by the letter A, has a direction to the place of
sale, which is omitted in the two others. These correspond in
their title-pages, but vary in their readings. They will be found
particularly described in the list of early quartos, vol. ii. Mr.
Steevens seems not to have been aware of more than two of these.
Boswell.
-- 4 --
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Lear, King of Britain.
King of France.
Duke of Burgundy.
Duke of Cornwall.
Duke of Albany.
Earl of Kent.
Earl of Gloster [Earl of Gloucester].
Edgar, Son to Gloster.
Edmund, Bastard Son to Gloster.
Curan, a Courtier.
Old Man, Tenant to Gloster.
Physician [Doctor].
Fool.
Oswald, Steward to Goneril.
An Officer, employed by Edmund [Captain].
Gentleman, Attendant on Cordelia.
A Herald.
Servants to Cornwall [Servant], [Servant 1], [Servant 2].
Goneril, a Daughter to Lear.
Regan, a Daughter to Lear.
Cordelia, a Daughter to Lear.
Knights attending on the King, Officers, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants.
[Knight], [Messenger], [Officer]
SCENE, Britain.
-- 5 --
KING LEAR.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
A Room of State in King Lear's Palace.
Enter Kent, Gloster, and Edmund.
Kent.
I thought, the king had more affected the
duke of Albany, than Cornwall.
Glo.
It did always seem so to us: but now, in
the division of the kingdom1 note, it appears not which
of the dukes he values most; for equalities2 note
are so
weighed, that curiosity in neither3 note
can make choice
of either's moiety4 note
.
-- 6 --
Kent.
Is not this your son, my lord?
Glo.
His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge:
I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that
now I am brazed to it.
Kent.
I cannot conceive you.
Glo.
Sir, this young fellow's mother could:
whereupon she grew round-wombed; and had, indeed,
sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a husband
for her bed. Do you smell a fault?
Kent.
I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue
of it being so proper5 note.
Glo.
But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some
year elder than this6 note
, who yet is no dearer in my
account: though this knave came somewhat saucily
into the world before he was sent for, yet was his
mother fair; there was good sport at his making,
and the whoreson must be acknowledged.—Do you
know this noble gentleman, Edmund?
Edm.
No, my lord.
Glo.
My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter
as my honourable friend.
-- 7 --
Edm.
My services to your lordship.
Kent.
I must love you, and sue to know you
better.
Edm.
Sir, I shall study deserving.
Glo.
He hath been out nine years, and away he
shall again:—The king is coming.
[Trumpets sound within.
Enter Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants.
Lear.
Attend the lords of France and Burgundy,
Gloster.
Glo.
I shall, my liege.
[Exeunt Gloster and Edmund.
Lear.
Mean-time we shall express our darker purpose* note 7 note
.
Give me the map there8 note.—Know, that we have divided,
In three, our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent9 note
To shake all cares and business from our age1 note;
Conferring them on younger strengths2 note, while we3 note
-- 8 --
Unburden'd crawl toward death.—Our son of Cornwall,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will4 note
to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes* note, France and Burgundy,
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd.—Tell me, my daughters,
(Since now5 note we will divest us, both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state,)
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where merit doth most challenge it6 note
.—Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.
Gon.
Sir, I do love you more† note than words can wield the matter;
-- 9 --
Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life7 note
, with grace, health, beauty, honour:
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found* note;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much8 note
I love you.
Cor.
What shall Cordelia do9 note? Love, and be silent.
[Aside.
Lear.
Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,
With plenteous rivers1 note
and wide-skirted meads,
-- 10 --
We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.—What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak2 note.
Reg.
I am made3 note of that self metal as my sister,
And prize me4 note
at her worth. In my true heart
I find, she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short,—that I profess5 note
Myself an enemy to all other joys,
Which the most precious square of sense possesses6 note
;
-- 11 --
And find, I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness' love.
Cor.
Then poor Cordelia!
[Aside.
And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
More richer than my tongue7 note
.
Lear.
To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity8 note
, and pleasure,
Than that confirm'd9 note
on Goneril.—Now, our joy1 note
,
-- 12 --
Although the last, not least2 note
; to whose young love
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Strive to be interess'd3 note
; what can you say, to draw4 note
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
Cor.
Nothing, my lord.
Lear.
Nothing?
Cor.
Nothing5 note
.
Lear.
Nothing will come* note of nothing: speak again.
Cor.
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more† note, nor less.
-- 13 --
Lear.
How, how, Cordelia6 note? mend your speech a little,
Lest it may mar your fortunes.
Cor.
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: I
Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say,
They love you, all? Haply, when I shall wed7 note
,
That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care, and duty:
Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all8 note.
Lear.
But goes this with thy heart9 note
?
-- 14 --
Cor.
Ay, good my lord.
Lear.
So young, and so untender1 note
?
Cor.
So young, my lord, and true.
Lear.
Let it be so,—Thy truth then be thy dower:
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun;
The mysteries of Hecate2 note, and the night;
By all the operations of the orbs,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee, from this3 note, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation4 note messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,
As thou my sometime daughter.
Kent.
Good my liege,—
Lear.
Peace, Kent!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath:
I lov'd her most5 note, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.—Hence, and avoid my sight!—
[To Cordelia6 note
.
-- 15 --
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father's heart from her!—Call France;—Who stirs?
Call Burgundy.—Cornwall, and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest the third:
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty.—Ourself, by monthly course,
With reservation of an hundred knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain7 note
The name, and all the additions to a king8 note;
The sway,
Revenue, execution of the rest9 note,
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part between you.
[Giving the Crown.
Kent.
Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers1 note
,—
-- 16 --
Lear.
The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.
Kent.
Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad. What would'st thou do, old man?
Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak2 note
,
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,
When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom;
And, in thy best consideration, check
This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
-- 17 --
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound
Reverbs3 note no hollowness.
Lear.
Kent, on thy life, no more.
Kent.
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies4 note
; nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive.
Lear.
Out of my sight!
Kent.
See better, Lear; and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye5 note
.
Lear.
Now, by Apollo6 note
,—
-- 18 --
Kent.
Now, by Apollo, king,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
Lear.
O, vassal! miscreant* note!
[Laying his hand on his Sword.
Alb. Corn.
Dear sir, forbear7 note.
Kent.
Do;
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift ; note;
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee, thou dost evil.
Lear.
Hear me, recreant!
On thine allegiance hear me!—
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
(Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd pride9 note,
To come betwixt our sentence and our power1 note
;
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,)
Our potency make good2 note
, take thy reward.
-- 19 --
Five* note days we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from diseases of the world3 note
;
-- 20 --
And, on the sixth* note, to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death: Away! By Jupiter4 note,
This shall not be revok'd.
Kent.
Fare thee well, king: since thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence5 note, and banishment is here.—
The gods to their dear shelter6 note take thee, maid,
[To Cordelia.
That justly think'st, and hast more rightly said7 note
!—
-- 21 --
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
[To Regan and Goneril.
That good effects may spring from words of love.—
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
He'll shape his old course8 note
in a country new.
[Exit.
Re-enter Gloster; with France, Burgundy, and Attendants.
Glo.
Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord9 note.
Lear.
My lord of Burgundy,
We first address towards you, who with this king
Hath rivall'd for our daughter; What, in the least,
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love1 note?
Bur.
Most royal majesty,
I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less.
Lear.
Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so2 note;
But now her price is fall'n: Sir, there she stands;
-- 22 --
If aught within that little, seeming2 note
substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd,
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
She's there, and she is yours.
Bur.
I know no answer.
Lear.
Sir,
Will you, with those infirmities she owes3 note
,
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dower'd* note with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?
Bur.
Pardon me, royal sir;
Election makes not up on such conditions4 note
.
-- 23 --
Lear.
Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
I tell you all her wealth.—For you, great king,
[To France.
I would not from your love make such a stray,
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
To avert your liking a more worthier way,
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd
Almost to acknowledge hers.
France.
This is most strange!
That she, thát even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest5 note
, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour! Sure, her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree,
That monsters it6 note
, or your fore-vouch'd affection
Fall'n into taint7 note
: which to believe of her,
-- 24 --
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle
Could never plant in me.
-- 25 --
Cor.
I yet beseech your majesty,
(If for I want8 note
that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well* note intend,
I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known† note
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste9 note action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour:
But even for want of that, for which I am richer;
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it,
Hath lost me in your liking.
Lear.
Better thou
Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me better.
France.
Is it no more but this1 note
? a tardiness in nature,
Which often leaves the history unspoke,
That it intends to do?—My lord of Burgundy,
-- 26 --
What say you to the lady? Love is not love,
When it is mingled with respects1 note
, that stand
Aloof from the entire point2 note
. Will you have her?
She is herself a dowry3 note
.
Bur.
Royal Lear4 note,
Give but that portion which you yourself propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.
Lear.
Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.
Bur.
I am sorry then, you have so lost a father,
That you must lose a husband.
Cor.
Peace be with Burgundy!
Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
France.
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away.
Gods, gods! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to inflam'd respect.—
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the dukes of* note wat'rish Burgundy
-- 27 --
Shall buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.—
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here5 note
, a better where to find.
Lear.
Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again:—Therefore be gone,
Without our grace, our love, our benizon.—
Come, noble Burgundy.
[Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, Cornwall, Albany, Gloster, and Attendants.
France.
Bid farewell to your sisters.
Cor.
The jewels6 note of our father, with wash'd eyes
Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are;
And, like a sister, am most loath to call
Your faults, as they are nam'd. Use well our father7 note:
To your professed bosoms8 note I commit him:
But yet, alas! stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place.
So farewell to you both.
-- 28 --
Gon.
Prescribe not us our duties9 note
.
Reg.
Let your study
Be, to content your lord; who hath receiv'd you
At fortune's alms1 note
. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted2 note
.
Cor.
Time shall unfold what plaited cunning3 note
hides;
-- 29 --
Who cover faults4 note
, at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper!
France.
Come, my fair Cordelia.
[Exeunt France and Cordelia.
Gon.
Sister, it is not a little I have to say, of
what most nearly appertains to us both. I think,
our father will hence to-night.
Reg.
That's most certain, and with you; next
month with us.
Gon.
You see how full of changes his age is; the
observation we have made of it hath not been little:
he always loved our sister most; and with what
poor judgment he hath now cast her off, appears too
grossly.
Reg.
'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath
ever but slenderly known himself.
Gon.
The best and soundest of his time hath been
but rash; then must we look to receive from his
age, not alone the imperfections of long-engrafted
condition5 note, but, therewithal, the unruly waywardness
-- 30 --
that infirm and cholerick years bring with
them.
Reg.
Such unconstant starts are we like to have
from him, as this of Kent's banishment.
Gon.
There is further compliment of leave-taking
between France and him. Pray you, let us
hit6 note
together: If our father carry authority with
such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of
his will but offend us.
Reg.
We shall further think of it.
Gon.
We must do something, and i' the heat7 note
.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Hall in the Earl of Gloster's Castle.
Enter Edmund, with a letter.
Edm.
Thou, nature, art my goddess8 note
; to thy law
My services are bound: Wherefore should I
-- 31 --
Stand in the plague of custom9 note
; and permit
The curiosity of nations1 note
to deprive me2 note
,
-- 32 --
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother3 note
? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature4 note, take
More composition and fierce quality,
-- 33 --
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake?—Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,
As to the legitimate: Fine word,—legitimate* note!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate5 note
. I grow; I prosper:—
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
-- 34 --
Enter Gloster.
Glo.
Kent banish'd thus! And France in choler parted!
And the king gone to-night! subscrib'd his power6 note
!
Confin'd to exhibition7 note
! All this done
Upon the gad8 note
!—Edmund! How now? what news?
Edm.
So please your lordship, none.
[Putting up the Letter.
Glo.
Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?
Edm.
I know no news, my lord.
Glo.
What paper were you reading?
Edm.
Nothing, my lord.
Glo.
No? What needed then that terrible despatch
of it into your pocket? the quality of
nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's
-- 35 --
see: Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need
spectacles.
Edm.
I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter
from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read; for
so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your
over-looking.
Glo.
Give me the letter, sir.
Edm.
I shall offend, either to detain or give it.
The contents, as in part I understand them, are to
blame.
Glo.
Let's see, let's see.
Edm.
I hope, for my brother's justification, he
wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue9 note
.
Glo. [Reads.]
This policy, and reverence of age1 note
,
makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps
our fortunes from us, till our oldness cannot relish
-- 36 --
them. I begin to find an idle and fond2 note bondage
in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not
as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to me,
that of this I may speak more. If our father would
sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue
for ever, and live the beloved of your brother,
Edgar.—Humph—Conspiracy—Sleep till I waked
him,—you should enjoy half his revenue,—My son
Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart and
brain to breed it in?—When came this to you?
Who brought it?
Edm.
It was not brought me, my lord, there's
the cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the casement
of my closet.
Glo.
You know the character to be your brother's?
Edm.
If the matter were good, my lord, I durst
swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would
fain think it were not.
Glo.
It is his.
Edm.
It is his hand, my lord; but, I hope, his
heart is not in the contents.
Glo.
Hath he never heretofore sounded you in
this business?
Edm.
Never, my lord: But I have often heard
him maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age,
and fathers declining, the father should be as ward
to the son, and the son manage his revenue.
Glo.
O villain, villain!—His very opinion in the
letter!—Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested,
brutish villain! worse than brutish!—Go, sirrah,
seek him; I'll apprehend him:—Abominable villain!
—Where is he?
Edm.
I do not well know, my lord. If it shall
please you to suspend your indignation against my
-- 37 --
brother, till you can derive from him better testimony
of his intent, you shall run a certain course;
where, if you3 note
violently proceed against him, mistaking
his purpose, it would make a great gap in
your own honour, and shake in pieces the heart of
his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for
him, that he hath writ this to feel my affection
to your honour4 note
, and to no other pretence5 note
of
danger.
Glo.
Think you so?
Edm.
If your honour judge it meet, I will place
you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by
an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and
that without any further delay than this very evening.
Glo.
He cannot be such a monster.
[Edm.6 note
Nor is not, sure.
Glo.
To his father, that so tenderly and entirely
loves him.—Heaven and earth!]—Edmund, seek
-- 38 --
him out; wind me into him7 note
, I pray you: frame
the business after your own wisdom: I would unstate
myself, to be in a due resolution8 note
.
-- 39 --
Edm.
I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the
business9 note
as I shall find means, and acquaint you
withal.
Glo.
These late eclipses in the sun and moon
portend no good to us: Though the wisdom of
nature1 note can reason it thus and thus, yet nature
finds itself scourged by the sequent effects: love
-- 40 --
cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities,
mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason;
and the bond cracked between son and father.
[This villain2 note of mine comes under the prediction;
there's son against father: the king falls from bias
of nature; there's father against child. We have
seen the best of our time: Machinations, hollowness,
treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us
disquietly to our graves!]—Find out this villain,
Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully:
—And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished!
his offence, honesty!—Strange! strange!
[Exit.
Edm.
This is the excellent foppery of the world3 note
!
-- 41 --
that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit
of our own behaviour,) we make guilty of our
-- 42 --
disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if
we were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly
compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers4 note
, by
spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers,
by an enforced obedience of planetary influence;
and all that we are evil in, by a divine
thrusting on: An admirable evasion of whore-master
man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of
a star5 note
! My father compounded with my mother
under the dragon's tail; and my nativity was under
ursa major; so that it follows, I am rough and lecherous.
—Tut, I should have been that I am, had
the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on
my bastardizing. Edgar—
Enter Edgar.
and pat he comes6 note
, like the catastrophe of the old
-- 43 --
comedy7 note: My cue is villainous melancholy, with
a sigh like Tom o'Bedlam.—O, these eclipses do
portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi8 note
.
Edg.
How now, brother Edmund? What serious
contemplation are you in?
Edm.
I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I
read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.
Edg.
Do you busy yourself with that?
Edm.
I promise you9 note, the effects he writes of,
-- 44 --
succeed unhappily; [as of1 note unnaturalness between
the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolution
of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces
and maledictions against king and nobles; needless
diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of
cohorts2 note, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.
Edg.
How long have you3 note been a sectary astronomical?
Edm.
Come, come;] when saw you my father
last?
Edg.
Why, the night gone by.
Edm.
Spake you with him?
Edg.
Ay, two hours together.
Edm.
Parted you in good terms? Found you no
displeasure in him, by word, or countenance?
Edg.
None at all.
Edm.
Bethink yourself, wherein you may have
offended him: and at my entreaty, forbear his presence,
till some little time hath qualified the heart
of his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth
in him, that with the mischief of your person4 note
it
would scarcely allay.
Edg.
Some villain hath done me wrong.
Edm.
That's my fear5 note. [I pray you, have a continent
-- 45 --
forbearance, till the speed of his rage goes
slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging,
from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord
speak: Pray you, go; there's my key:—If you do
stir abroad, go armed.
Edg.
Armed, brother?]
Edm.
Brother, I advise you to the best; go
armed;* note I am no honest man, if there be any good
meaning towards you: I have told you what I have
seen and heard, but faintly; nothing like the image
and horror of it: Pray you, away.
Edg.
Shall I hear from you anon?
Edm.
I do serve you in this business.—
[Exit Edgar.
A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty
My practices ride easy!—I see the business.—
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:
All with me's meet, that I can fashion fit.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
A Room in the Duke of Albany's Palace.
Enter Goneril and Steward.
Gon.
Did my father strike my gentleman for
chiding of his fool?
Stew.
Ay, madam.
Gon.
By day and night! he wrongs me6 note
; every hour
-- 46 --
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.
Stew.
He's coming, madam; I hear him.
[Horns within.
Gon.
Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows* note; I'd have it come to question:
If he dislike it† note let him to my sister,
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
[Not to be over-ruled7 note. Idle old man8 note
,
-- 47 --
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'd9 note
.]
Remember what I have said.
Stew.
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,
-- 48 --
That I may speak1 note:]—I'll write straight to my sister,
To hold my very course:—Prepare for dinner.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Hall in the Same.
Enter Kent, disguised.
Kent.
If but as well I other accents borrow,
That can my speech diffuse2 note
, my good intent
-- 49 --
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I raz'd my likeness.—Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou can'st serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
(So may it come* note!) thy master, whom thou lov'st,
Shall find thee full of labours.
Horns within. Enter Lear, Knights, and Attendants.
Lear.
Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go, get
it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How now, what
art thou?
Kent.
A man, sir.
Lear.
What dost thou profess? What wouldest
thou with us?
Kent.
I do profess to be no less than I seem; to
serve him truly, that will put me in trust; to love
him that is honest; to converse with him that is
wise, and says little3 note
; to fear judgment; to fight,
when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish4 note
.
-- 50 --
Lear.
What art thou?
Kent.
A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor
as the king.
Lear.
If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is
for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldest
thou?
Kent.
Service.
Lear.
Who wouldest thou serve?
Kent.
You.
Lear.
Dost thou know me, fellow?
Kent.
No, sir; but you have that in your countenance,
which I would fain call master.
Lear.
What's that?
Kent.
Authority.
Lear.
What services canst thou do?
Kent.
I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar
a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message
bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for,
I am qualified in; and the best of me is diligence.
Lear.
How old art thou?
Kent.
Not so young, sir, to love a woman for
singing; nor so old, to dote on her for any thing:
I have years on my back forty-eight.
-- 51 --
Lear.
Follow me; thou shalt serve me; if I like
thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee
yet.—Dinner, ho, dinner!—Where's my knave?
my fool? Go you, and call my fool hither:
Enter Steward.
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?
Stew.
So please you,—
[Exit.
Lear.
What says the fellow there? Call the
clotpoll back.—Where's my fool, ho?—I think the
world's asleep.—How now? where's that mongrel?
Knight.
* note He says, my lord, your daughter is
not well.
Lear.
Why came not the slave back to me,
when I called him?
Knight.
Sir, he answered me in the roundest
manner, he would not.
Lear.
He would not!
Knight.
My lord, I know not what the matter
is; but, to my judgment, your highness is not entertained
with that ceremonious affection as you
were wont; there's a great abatement of kindness5 note
appears, as well in the general dependants, as in
the duke himself also, and your daughter.
Lear.
Ha! sayest thou so?
Knight.
I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if
I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent, when
I think your highness is wronged.
Lear.
Thou but rememberest me of mine own
conception; I have perceived a most faint neglect
of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own
jealous curiosity6 note
, than as a very pretence7 note and
-- 52 --
purpose of unkindness: I will look further into't.
—But where's my fool? I have not seen him this
two days.
Knight.
Since my young lady's going into
France, sir, the fool hath much pined away8 note.
Lear.
No more of that; I have noted it well.—
Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with
her.—Go you, call hither my fool.—
Re-enter Steward.
O, you sir, you sir, come you hither: Who am I,
sir?
Stew.
My lady's father.
Lear.
My lady's father! my lord's knave: you
whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!
Stew.
I am none of this, my lord9 note; I beseech
you, pardon me.
Lear.
Do you bandy looks1 note
with me, you rascal?
[Striking him.
-- 53 --
Stew.
I'll not be struck, my lord.
Kent.
Nor tripped neither; you base foot-ball
player.
[Tripping up his Heels.
Lear.
I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me,
and I ll love thee.
Kent.
Come, sir, arise, away; I'll teach you
differences; away, away: If you will measure your
lubber's length again, tarry: but away: go to;
Have you wisdom2 note? so.
[Pushes the Steward out.
Lear.
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee:
there's earnest of thy service.
[Giving Kent Money.
Enter Fool.
Fool.
Let me hire him too;—Here's my coxcomb.
[Giving Kent his Cap.
Lear.
How now, my pretty knave? how dost
thou?
Fool.
Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
Kent.
Why, fool3 note?
Fool.
Why? For taking one's part that is out
of favour: Nay, an thou canst not smile as the
wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly4 note: There, take
my coxcomb5 note
: Why, this fellow has banished two
-- 54 --
on's daughters, and did the third a blessing against
his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear
my coxcomb.—How now, nuncle6 note? 'Would I had
two coxcombs7 note, and two daughters8 note!
Lear.
Why, my boy?
Fool.
If I gave them all my living9 note
, I'd keep
my coxcombs myself: There's mine; beg another
of thy daughters1 note.
Lear.
Take heed, sirrah; the whip.
Fool.
Truth's a dog that must to kennel; he
must be whipped out, when Lady, the brach2 note
, may
stand by the fire and stink.
-- 55 --
Lear.
A pestilent gall to me!
Fool.
Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.
Lear.
Do.
Fool.
Mark it, nuncle:—
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest3 note
,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest4 note,
Set less than thou throwest;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score.
Lear.* note
This is nothing, fool5 note
.
Fool.
Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd
-- 56 --
lawyer; you gave me nothing for't; Can you make
no use of nothing, nuncle?
Lear.
Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out
of nothing.
Fool.
Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of
his land comes to; he will not believe a fool.
[To Kent.
Lear.
A bitter fool!
Fool.
Dost thou know the difference, my boy,
between a bitter fool and a sweet fool?
Lear.
No, lad6 note; teach me.
Fool.
That lord, that counsel'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,—
Or do thou7 note for him stand:
The sweet and bitter fool
Will presently appear;
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.
Lear.
Dost thou call me fool, boy?
Fool.
All thy other titles thou hast given away;
that thou wast born with.
Kent.
This is not altogether fool, my lord.
Fool.
No, 'faith, lords and great men will not
let me; if I had a monopoly out, they would have
part on't8 note
: and ladies too, they will not let me
-- 57 --
have all fool to myself; they'll be snatching.—Give
me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.
Lear.
What two crowns shall they be?
Fool.
Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle,
and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the
egg. When thou clovest thy crown i' the middle,
and gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass
on thy back over the dirt: Thou had'st little wit in
thy bald crown, when thou gavest thy golden one
away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be
whipped that first finds it so.
Fools had ne'er less grace in a year9 note
;
[Singing.
For wise men are grown foppish;
And know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.
Lear.
When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?
-- 58 --
Fool.
I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou
madest thy daughters thy mother1 note: for when thou
gavest them the rod, and put'st down thine own
breeches,
Then they for sudden joy did weep2 note
,
[Singing.
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep3 note
,
And go the fools among.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a school-master that can
teach thy fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie.
Lear.
If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped.
Fool.
I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters
are: they'll have me whipped for speaking true,
thou'lt have me whipped for lying; and, sometimes,
I am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather
be any kind of thing, than a fool: and yet I would
not be thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o'both
sides, and left nothing in the middle: Here comes
one o'the parings.
-- 59 --
Enter Goneril.
Lear.
How now, daughter? what makes that
frontlet4 note
on? Methinks, you are too much of late
i' the frown.
Fool.
Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou
had'st no need to care for her frowning; now thou
art an O without a figure5 note
: I am better than thou6 note
-- 60 --
art now; I am a fool, thou art nothing.—Yes, forsooth,
I will hold my tongue; so your face [To Gon.]
bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some.—
That's a shealed peascod7 note
.
[Pointing to Lear.
Gon.
Not only, sir, this your all-licens d fool,
But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir,
I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,
By what yourself too late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on8 note
By your allowance9 note; which if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep;
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence,
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding.
Fool.
For you trow, nuncle,
-- 61 --
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its young.
So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling1 note
.
Lear.
Are you our daughter?
Gon.
Come, sir2 note, I would, you would make use of
that good wisdom whereof I know you are fraught;
and put away these dispositions, which of late transform
you3 note from what you rightly are.
Fool.
May not an ass know when the cart draws
the horse?—Whoop, Jug4 note
! I love thee.
-- 62 --
Lear.
Does any here know me?—Why this is
not Lear4 note
: does Lear walk thus? speak thus?
Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or
his discernings are lethargied.—Sleeping or waking?
—Ha! sure 'tis not so.—Who is it that can
tell me who I am?—Lear's shadow5 note
? I would learn
that; for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge,
and reason, I should be false persuaded I had
daughters6 note
.—
-- 63 --
Fool.
Which they will make an obedient father7 note.
Lear.
Your name, fair gentlewoman8 note
?
-- 64 --
Gon.
Come, sir;
This admiration is much o' the favour9 note
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
To understand my purposes aright:
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise1 note
:
-- 65 --
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd, and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern, or a brothel,
Than a grac'd palace2 note. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy: Be then desir'd
By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
A little to disquantity your train3 note
;
And the remainder, that shall still depend4 note
,
-- 66 --
To be such men as may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.
Lear.
Darkness and devils!—
Saddle my horses; call my train together.—
Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter.
Gon.
You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters.
Enter Albany.
Lear.
Woe, that too late repents5 note
,—O, sir, are you come6 note?
Is it your will? [To Alb.] Speak, sir.—Prepare my horses.
Ingratitude? thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster7 note!
Alb.
Pray, sir, be patient8 note.
-- 67 --
Lear.
Detested kite! thou liest:
[To Goneril.
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know;
And in the most exact regard support
The worships of their name.—O most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
Which, like an engine9 note
, wrench'd my frame of nature
From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,
[Striking his head.
And thy dear judgment out!—Go, go, my people1 note
.
-- 68 --
Alb.
My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath mov'd you2 note.
Lear.
It may be so, my lord.—Hear, nature, hear;
Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful!
Into her womb convey sterility!
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body3 note
never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
And be a thwart4 note disnatur'd5 note
torment to her!
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears* note 6 note
fret channels in her cheeks;
-- 69 --
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,
To laughter and contempt7 note
; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is8 note
To have a thankless child!—Away, away!
[Exit.
Alb.
Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this?
Gon.
Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
But let his disposition have that scope
That dotage gives it.
Re-enter Lear.
Lear.
What, fifty of my followers, at a clap!
Within a fortnight?
Alb.
What's the matter, sir?
Lear.
I'll tell thee;—Life and death! I am asham'd
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus:
[To Goneril.
-- 70 --
That these hot tears8 note, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them.—Blasts and fogs upon thee!
The untented woundings9 note
of a father's curse
Pierce every sense about thee!—Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out;
And cast you, with the waters that you lose1 note,
To temper clay.—Ha! is it come to this?
Let it be so2 note
:—Yet have I left a daughter,
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable;
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She'll flay thy wolfish visage. Thou shalt find,
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee3 note.
[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants.
-- 71 --
Gon.
Do you mark that, my lord?
Alb.
I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
To the great love I bear you,—
Gon.
Pray you, content.—What, Oswald, ho!
You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master.
[To the Fool.
Fool.
Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, and take
the fool with thee.
A fox, when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter;
So the fool follows after.
[Exit.
Gon.4 note
[This man hath had good counsel:—A hundred knights!
'Tis politick, and safe, to let him keep
At point5 note, a hundred knights. Yes, that on every dream,
Each buz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
And hold our lives in mercy6 note.—Oswald, I say!—
Alb.
Well, you may fear too far.
Gon.
Safer than trust too far7 note:
Let me still take away the harms I fear,
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart:
-- 72 --
What he hath utter'd, I have writ my sister;
If she sustain him and his hundred knights,
When I have show'd the unfitness,]—How now, Oswald8 note
?
Enter Steward.
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?
Stew.
Ay, madam.
Gon.
Take you some company, and away to horse:
Inform her full of my particular fear;
And thereto add such reasons of your own,
As may compact it more9 note
. Get you gone;
And hasten your return. [Exit Stew.] No, no, my lord,
This milky gentleness, and course of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more attask'd1 note
for want of wisdom,
Than prais'd for harmful mildness.
-- 73 --
Alb.
How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell;
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well2 note
.
Gon.
Nay, then—
Alb.
Well, well; the event.
[Exeunt.
-- 74 --
SCENE V.
Court before the Same.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Lear.
Go you before to Gloster with these letters:
acquaint my daughter no further with any
thing you know, than comes from her demand out
of the letter: If your diligence be not speedy, I
shall be there before you3 note
.
Kent.
I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered
your letter.
[Exit.
Fool.
If a man's brains were in his heels, were't
not in danger of kibes?
Lear.
Ay, boy.
Fool.
Then, I pr'ythee, be merry; thy wit shall
not go slip-shod.
Lear.
Ha, ha, ha!
Fool.
Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee
kindly4 note: for though she's as like this as a crab is
like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
note.
-- 75 --
Lear.
Why, what canst thou tell, my boy5 note?
Fool.
She will taste as like this, as a crab does
to a crab. Thou canst tell, why one's nose stands
i' the middle of his face?
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Why, to keep his eyes on either side his
nose; that what a man cannot smell out, he may
spy into.
Lear.
I did her wrong6 note:—
Fool.
Can'st tell how an oyster makes his shell?
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail
has a house.
Lear.
Why?
Fool.
Why, to put his head in; not to give it
away to his daughters, and leave his horns without
a case.
Lear.
I will forget my nature.—So kind a father!
—Be my horses ready?
Fool.
Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason
why the seven stars are no more than seven, is a
pretty reason.
Lear.
Because they are not eight?
Fool.
Yes, indeed: Thou wouldest make a good
fool.
Lear.
To take it again perforce7 note
!—Monster ingratitude!
-- 76 --
Fool.
If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee
beaten for being old before thy time.
Lear.
How's that?
Fool.
Thou should'st not have been old, before
thou hadst been wise.
Lear.
O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!—
Enter Gentleman.
How now! Are the horses ready?
Gent.
Ready, my lord.
Lear.
Come, boy.
Fool.
She that is maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter8 note
.
[Exeunt.
-- 77 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloster.
Enter Edmund and Curan, meeting.
Edm.
Save thee, Curan.
Cur.
And you, sir. I have been with your father;
and given him notice, that the duke of Cornwall,
and Regan his duchess, will be here with him
to-night.
Edm.
How comes that?
Cur.
Nay, I know not: You have heard of the
news abroad; I mean, the whispered ones, for they
are yet but ear-kissing* note arguments9 note?
Edm.
Not I; 'Pray you, what are they?
Cur.1 note
Have you heard of no likely wars toward,
'twixt the dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Edm.
Not a word.
Cur.
You may then, in time. Fare you well, sir.
[Exit.
Edm.
The duke be here to-night? The better! Best!
This weaves itself perforce into my business!
My father hath set guard to take my brother;
And I have one thing, of a queazy question2 note
,
-- 78 --
Which I must act:—Briefness, and fortune, work* note!—
Brother, a word;—descend:—Brother, I say;
Enter Edgar.
My father watches:—O sir, fly this place;
Intelligence is given where you are hid;
You have now the good advantage of the night:—
Have you not spoken 'gainst the duke of Cornwall?
He's coming hither; now, i' the night, i' the haste3 note
,
And Regan with him; Have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the duke of Albany4 note
?
Advise yourself5 note.
Edg.
I am sure on't, not a word.
-- 79 --
Edm.
I hear my father coming,—Pardon me:—
In cunning, I must draw my sword upon you:—
Draw: Seem to defend yourself: Now quit you well.
Yield:—come before my father;—Light, ho, here!—
Fly, brother;—Torches! torches!—So, farewell.—
[Exit Edgar.
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
[Wounds his Arm.
Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunkards
Do more than this in sport6 note
.—Father! father!
Stop, stop! No help?
Enter Gloster, and Servants with Torches.
Glo.
Now, Edmund, where's the villain?
Edm.
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon7 note
To stand his auspicious mistress8 note
:—
Glo.
But where is he?
Edm.
Look, sir, I bleed.
Glo.
Where is the villain, Edmund?
-- 80 --
Edm.
Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could—
Glo.
Pursue him, ho!—Go after.—
[Exit Serv.
By no means,—what?
Edm.
Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;
But that I told him, the revenging* note gods
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders9 note bend;
Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond
The child was bound to the father;—Sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion,
With his prepared sword, he charges home
My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm:
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter,
Or whether gasted1 note
by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
Glo.
Let him fly far:
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
And found—Dispatch.—The noble duke2 note
my master,
My worthy arch3 note
and patron, comes to-night:
-- 81 --
By his authority I will proclaim it,
That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward4 note to the stake;
He, that conceals him, death.
Edm.
When I dissuaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to do it, with curst speech5 note
I threaten'd to discover him: He replied,
Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think,
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal6 note
Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee
Make thy words faith'd? No: what I should deny,
(As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce
My very character7 note
,) I'd turn it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice* note:
And thou must make a dullard of the world8 note
,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spurs9 note
To make thee seek it.
-- 82 --
Glo.
Strong and fasten'd villain1 note
!
Would he deny his letter?—I never got him2 note.
[Trumpets within.
Hark, the duke's trumpets; I know not why he comes:—
All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape;
The duke must grant me that: besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him; and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means
To make thee capable3 note
.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.
Corn.
How now, my noble friend? since I came hither,
(Which I can call but now,) I have heard strange news4 note.
-- 83 --
Reg.
If it be true, all vengeance comes too short,
Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord?
Glo.
O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, is crack'd!
Reg.
What, did my father's godson seek your life?
He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar?
Glo.
O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!
Reg.
Was he not companion with the riotous knights
That tend upon my father?
Glo.
I know not, madam:
It is too bad, too bad.—
Edm.
Yes, madam, he was5 note
.
Reg.
No marvel then, though he were ill affected;
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have the waste and spoil of his revenues6 note
.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions,
That, if they come to sojourn at my house,
I'll not be there.
Corn.
Nor I, assure thee, Regan.—
-- 84 --
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
A child-like office.
Edm.
'Twas my duty, sir.
Glo.
He did bewray his practice7 note
; and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Corn.
Is he pursued?
Glo.
Ay, my good lord, he is8 note.
Corn.
If he be taken, he shall never more
Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please.—For you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth9 note this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours;
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;
You we first seize on.
Edm.
I shall serve you, sir,
Truly, however else.
Glo.
For him I thank your grace1 note
.
Corn.
You know not why we came to visit you,—
Reg.
Thus out of season; threading dark-ey'd night2 note
.
-- 85 --
Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poize3 note
,
Wherein we must have use of your advice:—
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of differences, which I best thought it fit
To answer from our home4 note
; the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business5 note,
Which craves the instant use.
Glo.
I serve you, madam:
Your graces are right welcome.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Before Gloster's Castle.
Enter Kent and Steward, severally.
Stew.
Good dawning to thee, friend6 note
: Art of the house7 note?
-- 86 --
Kent.
Ay.
Stew.
Where may we set our horses?
Kent.
I' the mire.
Stew.
Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me.
Kent.
I love thee not.
Stew.
Why, then I care not for thee.
Kent.
If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold8 note
, I would
make thee care for me.
-- 87 --
Stew.
Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee
not.
-- 88 --
Kent.
Fellow, I know thee.
Stew.
What dost thou know me for?
Kent.
A knave; a rascal, an eater of broken
meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound9 note, filthy worsted-stocking
knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave1 note; a whoreson,
glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical* note rogue2
note;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldest be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom
I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition3 note.
Stew.
Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou,
thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee,
nor knows thee?
Kent.
What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to
deny thou knowest me? Is it two days ago, since
I tripped up thy heels, and beat thee, before the
king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night,
the moon shines; I'll make a sop o'the moonshine
of you4 note
: Draw, you whoreson cullionly barber-monger5 note
,
draw.
[Drawing his Sword.
-- 89 --
Stew.
Away, I have nothing to do with thee.
Kent.
Draw, you rascal: you come with letters
against the king; and take vanity the puppet's part6 note
,
-- 90 --
against the royalty of her father: Draw, you rogue,
or I'll so carbonado your shanks:—draw, you rascal;
come your ways.
Stew.
Help, ho! murder! help!
Kent.
Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand;
you neat slave7 note
, strike.
[Beating him.
Stew.
Help, ho! murder! murder!
Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.
Edm.
How now? What's the matter? Part.
Kent.
With you, goodman boy, if you please;
come, I'll flesh you; come on, young master.
Glo.
Weapons! arms! What's the matter here?
Corn.
Keep peace, upon your lives;
He dies, that strikes again8 note
: What is the matter?
Reg.
The messengers from our sister and the
king.
Corn.
What is your difference? speak.
Stew.
I am scarce in breath, my lord.
Kent.
No marvel, you have so bestirred your
valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in
thee9 note
; a tailor made thee.
-- 91 --
Corn.
Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make
a man?
Kent.
Ay, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter, or a
painter, could not have made him so ill, though
they had been but two hours at the trade.
Corn.
Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
Stew.
This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd,
At suit of his grey beard,—
Kent.
Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary
letter1 note
!—My lord, if you will give me leave, I will
tread this unbolted villain2 note into mortar3 note
, and daub
-- 92 --
the wall of a jakes with him.—Spare my grey beard,
you wagtail?
Corn.
Peace, sirrah!
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent.
Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege4 note
.
Corn.
Why art thou angry?
Kent.
That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these5 note,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain
Which are too intrinse t'unloose6 note
: smooth every passion7 note
-- 93 --
That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege8 note, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters9 note
,
-- 94 --
As knowing nought9 note, like dogs, but following.—
A plague upon your epileptick visage1 note!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot2 note
.
Corn.
What, art thou mad, old fellow?
Glo.
How fell you out?
Say that.
Kent.
No contraries hold more antipathy,
Than I and such a knave3 note
.
Corn.
Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence?
Kent.
His countenance likes me not4 note
.
-- 95 --
Corn.
No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or hers.
Kent.
Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;
I have seen better faces in my time,
Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.
Corn.
This is some fellow,
Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness; and constrains the garb,
Quite from his nature5 note
: He cannot flatter, he!—
An honest mind and plain,—he must speak truth:
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Than twenty silly ducking observants6 note
,
That stretch their duties nicely.
Kent.
Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,
Under the allowance of your grand aspéct,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phœbus' front7 note
,—
-- 96 --
Corn.
What mean'st by this?
Kent.
To go out of my dialect, which you discommend
so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer:
he that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain
knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I
should win your displeasure to entreat me to it8 note.
Corn.
What was the offence you gave him?
Stew.
I never gave him any9 note
:
It pleas'd the king his master, very late,
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, conjunct1 note, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthy'd him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
-- 97 --
And, in the fleshment2 note of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again3 note
.
Kent.
None of these rogues, and cowards,
But Ajax is their fool4 note
.
Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks, ho!
You stubborn ancient knave5 note
, you reverend braggart,
We'll teach you—
Kent.
Sir, I am too old to learn:
-- 98 --
Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king;
On whose employment I was sent to you:
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking* note his messenger.
Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks:
As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.
Reg.
Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too.
Kent.
Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so.
Reg.
Sir, being his knave, I will.
[Stocks brought out6 note.
Corn.
This is a fellow of the self-same colour7 note
Our sister speaks of:—Come, bring away the stocks.
Glo.
Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
[His fault8 note is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches9 note
,
For pilferings and most common trespasses,
Are punish'd with:] the king must take it ill† note,
That he's so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.
-- 99 --
Corn.
I'll answer that.
Reg.
My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs1 note.—Put in his legs.—
[Kent is put in the Stocks2 note
.
Come, my good lord; away.
[Exeunt Regan and Cornwall.
Glo.
I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure,
Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
Will not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd3 note: I'll entreat for thee.
Kent.
Pray, do not, sir: I have watch'd, and travell'd hard;
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels:
Give you good morrow!
Glo.
The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken.
[Exit.
Kent.
Good king, that must approve the common saw4 note
!
-- 100 --
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter!—Nothing almost sees miracles5 note,
But misery;—I know, 'tis from Cordelia6 note
;
-- 101 --
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course; and shall find time
From this enormous state,—seeking to give
Losses their remedies7 note
:—All weary and o'erwatch'd,
-- 102 --
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night; smile once more; turn thy wheel!
[He sleeps.
-- 103 --
SCENE III.
A Part of the Heath.
Enter Edgar.
Edg.
I heard myself proclaim'd:
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,
-- 104 --
Does not attend my taking. While I may scape,
I will preserve myself: and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape,
That every penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots8 note
;
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars9 note
, who, with roaring voices,
-- 105 --
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks1 note
, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms2 note,
Poor pelting villages3 note
, sheep-cotes and mills,
-- 106 --
Sometime with lunatick bans4 note
, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity.—Poor Turlygood! poor Tom5 note
!
That's something yet;—Edgar I nothing am6 note
.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Before Gloster's Castle7 note
.
Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.
Lear.
'Tis strange, that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger.
-- 107 --
Gent.
As I learn'd,
The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.
Kent.
Hail to thee, noble master!
Lear.
How!
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
Kent.
No, my lord8 note.
Fool.
Ha, ha; look! he wears cruel garters9 note
!
-- 108 --
Horses are tied by the head; dogs, and bears, by
the neck; monkies by the loins, and men by the
legs: when a man is over-lusty1 note
at legs, then he
wears wooden nether-stocks2 note
.
Lear.
What's he, that hath so much thy place mistook
To set thee here?
Kent.
It is both he and she,
Your son and daughter.
Lear.
No.
-- 109 --
Kent.
Yes.
Lear.
No, I say.
Kent.
I say, yea.
Lear.3 note
No, no; they would not.
Kent.
Yes, they have.
Lear.
By Jupiter, I swear no.
Kent.
By Juno, I swear, ay4 note.
Lear.
They durst not do't;
They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than murder,
To do upon respect such violent outrage5 note
:
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Coming from us.
Kent.
My lord, when at their home
I did commend your highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress, salutations;
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission6 note
,
-- 110 --
Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny7 note
, straight took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
-- 111 --
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine,
(Being the very fellow that of late
Display'd so saucily against your highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, drew8 note
;
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries:
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.
Fool.
Winter's not gone yet9 note
, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers, that wear rags,
Do make their children blind;
But fathers, that bear bags,
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to the poor.—
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours1 note
for thy daughters2 note, as thou can'st tell in a year.
-- 112 --
Lear.
O, how this mother3 note
swells up toward my heart!
Hysterica passio! down, thou climbing sorrow,
Thy element's below!—Where is this daughter?
Kent.
With the earl, sir, here within.
Lear.
Follow me not;
Stay here.
[Exit.
Gent.
Made you no more offence than what you speak of?
Kent.
None.
How chance the king comes with so small a train?
Fool.
An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for
that question, thou hadst well deserved it.
-- 113 --
Kent.
Why, fool?
Fool.
We'll set thee to school to an ant4 note
, to
teach thee there's no labouring in the winter. All
that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but
blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty,
but can smell him that's stinking5 note
. Let go thy
hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it
-- 114 --
break thy neck with following it; but the great
one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after.
When a wise man gives thee6 note better counsel, give
me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow
it, since a fool gives it.
That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack, when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let7 note
the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool, that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
Kent.
Where learn'd you this, fool?
Fool.
Not i' the stocks, fool.
Re-enter Lear, with Gloster.
Lear.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
-- 115 --
They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches8 note
;
The images of revolt and flying off!
Fetch me a better answer.
Glo.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremoveable and fix'd he is
In his own course.
Lear.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
Fiery? what quality* note? Why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.
Glo.
Well, my good lord9 note, I have inform'd them so.
Lear.
Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man?
Glo.
Ay, my good lord.
Lear.
The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service:
Are they inform'd of this1 note?—My breath and blood!—
Fiery? the fiery duke?—Tell the hot duke, that2 note—
No, but not yet:—may be, he is not well:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
-- 116 --
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
For the sound man.—Death on my state! wherefore
[Looking on Kent.
Should he sit here? This act persuades me3 note
,
That this remotion4 note of the duke and her
Is practice only5 note. Give me my servant forth:
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry—Sleep to death6 note
.
Glo.
I'd have all well betwixt you.
[Exit.
Lear.
O me, my heart, my rising heart!—but, down.
Fool.
Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney7 note
did to
-- 117 --
the eels, when she put them i' the paste8 note
alive;
she rapp'd 'em9 note
o' the coxcombs with a stick, and
-- 118 --
cry'd, Down, wantons, down: 'Twas her brother,
that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his
hay.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.
Lear.
Good morrow to you both.
Corn.
Hail to your grace!
[Kent is set at Liberty.
Reg.
I am glad to see your highness.
Lear.
Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
I have to think so: if thou should'st not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepúlch'ring1 note
an adultress.—O, are you free?
[To Kent.
Some other time for that.—Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here2 note
,—
[Points to his Heart.
I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe,
Of how deprav'd a quality3 note
—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 duty4 note
.
-- 119 --
Lear.
Say5 note, how is that?
Reg.
I cannot think, my sister in the least
-- 120 --
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 confíne: 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, sir5 note.
Lear.
Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house6 note
?
-- 121 --
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Age is unnecessary7 note
: on my knees I beg,
[Kneeling.
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.
Reg.
Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks:
Return you to my sister.
Lear.
Never, Regan:
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look'd black upon me8 note
; struck me with her tongue,
-- 122 --
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:—
All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!
Corn.
Fye, fye, fye!
Lear.
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
To fall and blast her pride9 note
!
Reg.
O the blest gods!
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on1 note
.
-- 123 --
Lear.
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse;
Thy tender-hefted nature2 note
shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn3 note
: 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes4 note
,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
-- 124 --
Against my coming in: thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.
Reg.
Good sir, to the purpose.
[Trumpets within.
Lear.
Who put my man i' the stocks?
Corn.
What trumpet's that?
Enter Steward.
Reg.
I know't, my sister's5 note
: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.—Is your lady come?
Lear.
This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows:—
Out, varlet, from my sight!
Corn.
What means your grace?
Lear.
Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know of't.—Who comes here? O heavens,
-- 125 --
Enter Goneril.
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience6 note
, if yourselves are old7 note
,
Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!—
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?—
[To Goneril.
O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?
Gon.
Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?
All's not offence, that indiscretion finds8 note
,
And dotage terms so.
Lear.
O, sides, you are too tough!
-- 126 --
Will you yet hold?—How came my man i' the stocks?
Corn.
I set him there, sir: but his own disorders
Deserv'd much less advancement9 note
.
Lear.
You! did you?
Reg.
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so1 note.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me;
I am now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entainment.
Lear.
Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage against the enmity o' the air;
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,—
Necessity's sharp pinch2 note
!—Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
-- 127 --
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg
To keep base life3 note afoot:—Return with her?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter4 note
To this detested groom.
[Looking on the Steward.
Gon.
At your choice, sir.
Lear.
I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad;
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
We'll no more meet, no more see one another:—
But yet thou art my flesh5 note
, my blood, my daughter;
Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh* note,
Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil6 note
,
A plague-sore7 note, an embossed carbuncle8 note
,
-- 128 --
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
Mend, when thou canst; be better, at thy leisure:
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I, and my hundred knights.
Reg.
Not altogether so, sir;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome: Give ear, sir, to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so—
But she knows what she does.
Lear.
Is this well spoken now?
Reg.
I dare avouch it, sir: What, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many? sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house,
Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible.
Gon.
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
Reg.
Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd to slack you,
We could control them: If you will come to me,
(For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you
To bring but five and twenty: to no more
Will I give place, or notice.
Lear.
I gave you all—
Reg.
And in good time you gave it.
Lear.
Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be follow'd
-- 129 --
With such a number: What, must I come to you
With five and twenty, Regan? said you so?
Reg.
And speak it again, my lord; no more with me.
Lear.
Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd,
When others are more wicked9 note
; not being the worst,
Stands in some rank of praise:—I'll go with thee;
[To Goneril.
Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,
And thou art twice her love.
Gon.
Hear me, my lord;
What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?
Reg.
What need one?
Lear.
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
-- 130 --
Which scarcely keeps thee warm.—But, for true need,—
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need1 note
!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man2 note,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger!
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks!—No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall—I will do such things,—
What they are, yet I know not3 note
; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep:—
-- 131 --
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws* note 4 note
,
Or ere I'll weep:—O, fool, I shall go mad!
[Exeunt Lear, Gloster, Kent, and Fool.
Corn.
Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm.
[Storm heard at a Distance.
Reg.
This house
Is little; the old man and his people cannot
Be well bestow'd.
Gon.
'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest5 note,
And must needs taste his folly.
Reg.
For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
But not one follower.
Gon.
So am I purpos'd.
Where is my lord of Gloster?
Re-enter Gloster.
Corn.
Follow'd the old man forth:—he is return'd.
Glo.
The king is in high rage.
Corn.
Whither is he going?
-- 132 --
Glo.
He calls to horse6 note
; but will I know not whither.
Corn.
'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.
Gon.
My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
Glo.
Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds* note
Do sorely ruffle7 note
; for many miles about
There's scarce a bush† note.
Reg.
O, sir, to wilful men,
The injuries, that they themselves procure,
Must be their schoolmasters: Shut up your doors;
He is attended with a desperate train;
And what they may incense him to8 note, being apt
To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear.
Corn.
Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night;
My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm.
[Exeunt.
-- 133 --
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A Heath.
A Storm is heard, with Thunder and Lightning.
Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, meeting.
Kent.
Who's here, beside foul weather?
Gent.
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
Kent.
I know you; Where's the king?
Gent.
Contending with the fretful element9 note:
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main1 note
,
That things might change, or cease: tears his white hair2 note
;
-- 134 --
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of:
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain3 note
.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch4 note
,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all5 note
.
-- 135 --
Kent.
But who is with him?
Gent.
None but the fool; who labours to outjest
His heart-struck injuries.
Kent.
Sir, I do know you;
And dare, upon the warrant of my art6 note
,
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,
Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
Who have (as who have not7 note
, that their great stars
Thron'd and set high?) servants, who seem no less;
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen8 note,
Either in snuffs and packings9 note
of the dukes;
-- 136 --
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings1 note
;—
[But, true it is2 note, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports3 note
, and are at point
-- 137 --
To show their open banner.—Now to you:
If on my credit you dare build so far
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The king hath cause to plain.
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer
This office to you.]
Gent.
I will talk further with you.
Kent.
No, do not.
For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains: If you shall see Cordelia,
(As fear not but you shall4 note,) show her this ring;
And she will tell you who your fellow is
That yet you do not know. Fye on this storm!
I will go seek the king.
Gent.
Give me your hand: Have you no more to say?
Kent.
Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet;
-- 138 --
That, when we have found the king, (in which your pain
That way; I'll this;) he that first5 note
lights on him,
Holla the other.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
Another Part of the Heath. Storm continues.
Enter Lear and Fool.
Lear.
Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks6 note
! rage! blow!
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing7 note fires,
-- 139 --
Vaunt-couriers8 note
to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat9 note the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once1 note
,
That make ingrateful man!
Fool.
O nuncle, court holy-water2 note
in a dry house
-- 140 --
is better than this rain-water out o'door. Good
nuncle, in, and ask thy daughter's blessing; here's
a night pities neither wise men nor fools.
Lear.
Rumble thy bellyfull! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax* note not you, you elements, with unkindness,
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription3 note
; why then let fall
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man:—
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd† note
Your high-engender'd battles‡ note, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul4 note!
Fool.
He that has a house to put his head in,
has a good head-piece.
The cod-piece that will house,
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse;—
So beggars marry many5 note
.
-- 141 --
The man that makes his toe
What he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe6 note
,
And turn his sleep to wake.
—for there was never yet fair woman, but she made
mouths in a glass.
Enter Kent.
Lear.
No, I will be the pattern of all patience,
I will say nothing7 note
.
Kent.
Who's there?
Fool.
Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece;
that's a wise man, and a fool8 note
.
Kent.
Alas, sir, are you here9 note? things that love night,
Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark1 note
,
-- 142 --
And make them keep their caves: Since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry
The affliction, nor the fear2 note.
Lear.
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother3 note
o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man* note of virtue
That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming4 note
Hast practis'd on man's life!—Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents5 note
, and cry
-- 143 --
These dreadful summoners grace6 note
.—I am a man7 note
,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Kent.
Alack, bare-headed8 note!
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest;
Repose you there: while I to this hard house,
(More hard than is the stone* note whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
-- 144 --
Denied me to come in,) return, and force
Their scanted courtesy.
Lear.
My wits begin to turn.—
Come on, my boy: How dost, my boy? Art cold?
I am cold myself.—Where is this straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel,
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart9 note
That's sorry yet for thee1 note
.
Fool.
He that has a little tiny wit,—
With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain2 note
,—
Must make content with his fortunes fit;
For the rain it raineth every day.
Lear.
True, my good boy.—Come, bring us to this hovel.
[Exeunt Lear and Kent.
Fool.
This is a brave night to cool a courtezan3 note.
—I'll speak a prophecy ere I go:
When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors4 note;
No hereticks burn'd, but wenches' suitors5 note
:
-- 145 --
When every case in law is right;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i' the field;
And bawds and whores do churches build;—
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion6 note
.
Then comes the time7 note, who lives to see't,
That going shall be us'd with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before
his time.
[Exit.
-- 146 --
SCENE III.
A Room in Gloster's Castle.
Enter Gloster and Edmund.
Glo.
Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural
dealing: When I desired their leave that I
might pity him, they took from me the use of mine
own house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual
displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him,
nor any way sustain him.
Edm.
Most savage, and unnatural!
Glo.
Go to; say you nothing: There is division
between the dukes; and a worse matter than that:
I have received a letter this night;—'tis dangerous
to be spoken;—I have locked the letter in my closet:
these injuries the king now bears will be revenged
home; there is part of a power already
footed* note: we must incline to the king. I will seek
him, and privily relieve him: go you, and maintain
talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him
perceived: If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to
bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me,
the king my old master must be relieved. There is
some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be
careful.
[Exit.
Edm.
This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke
Instantly know; and of that letter too:—
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses; no less than all;
The younger rises, when the old doth fall.
[Exit.
-- 147 --
SCENE IV.
A Part of the Health, with a Hovel.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Kent.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Let me alone.
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Wilt break my heart8 note
?
Kent.
I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord, enter.
Lear.
Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious* note storm
Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt9 note
. Thou'dst shun a bear:
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea1 note
,
-- 148 --
Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind's free,
The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there.—Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
For lifting food to't?—But I will punish home:—
No, I will weep no more.—In such a night
To shut me out!—Pour on; I will endure2 note
:—
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!—
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave you all3 note
,—
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that,—
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more.—But I'll go in:
-- 149 --
In, boy; go first4 note.—[To the Fool.] You houseless poverty,—
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.—
[Fool goes in.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm* note,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness5 note
, defend you
-- 150 --
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physick, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel;
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just6 note
.
Edg. [Within.]
Fathom7 note and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!
[The Fool runs out from the Hovel.
Fool.
Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit.
Help me, help me!
Kent.
Give me thy hand.—Who's there?
Fool.
A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor Tom.
Kent.
What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw?
Come forth.
Enter Edgar, disguised as a Madman.
Edg.
Away! the foul fiend follows me!—
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind* note.—
-- 151 --
Humph! go to thy cold bed8 note
, and warm thee.
Lear.
Hast thou given all to thy two daughters9 note?
And art thou come to this?
Edg.
Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom
the foul fiend hath led through fire and through
flame* note 1 note, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and
quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow2 note
,
-- 152 --
and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge;
made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay
trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course
his own shadow for a traitor:—Bless thy five wits3 note
!
-- 153 --
Tom's a-cold.—O, do de, do de, do de.—Bless thee
from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking4 note
! Do
poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes:
There could I have him now,—and there,—and
there,—and there again, and there.
[Storm continues.
Lear.
What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?—
Could'st thou save nothing? Did'st thou give them all?
Fool.
Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had
been all shamed.
Lear.
Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's faults5 note
, light on thy daughters!
Kent.
He hath no daughters, sir.
Lear.
Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd nature
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.—
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters6 note
.
-- 154 --
Edg.
Pillicock sat6 note
on pillicock's-hill;—
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!
Fool.
This cold night will turn us all to fools
and madmen.
Edg.
Take heed o' the foul fiend: Obey thy parents;
keep thy word justly7 note; swear not; commit
not8 note
with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet
heart on proud array: Tom's a-cold.
Lear.
What hast thou been?
Edg.
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind;
that curled my hair9 note
; wore gloves in my cap1 note
, served
-- 155 --
the lust of my mistress's heart, and did the act of
darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake
words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven:
one, that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked
to do it: Wine loved I deeply; dice dearly; and in
woman, out-paramoured the Turk: False of heart,
light of ear2 note, bloody of hand; Hog in sloth, fox
in stealth, wolf in greediness3 note, dog in madness, lion
-- 156 --
in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the
rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to women:
Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of
plackets4 note
, thy pen from lenders' books5 note
, and defy
the foul fiend.—Still through the hawthorn blows
the cold wind: Says suum, mun, ha no nonny, dolphin
my boy, my boy, sessa; let him trot by6 note
.
[Storm still continues.
-- 157 --
Lear.
Why, thou were better in thy grave, than
to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity
-- 158 --
of the skies.—Is man no more than this? Consider
him well: Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast
no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume:—
Ha! here's three of us are sophisticated!—Thou
art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no
more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou
art.—Off, off, you lendings:—Come; unbutton
here7 note
.—
[Tearing off his clothes.
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; this is a
naughty night to swim in8 note
.—Now a little fire in a
wild field were like an old lecher's heart9 note
; a small
-- 159 --
spark, all the rest of his body cold.—Look, here
comes a walking fire.
Edg.
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet1 note
: he
begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock2 note
; he
gives the web and the pin3 note
, squints the eye, and
-- 160 --
makes the hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and
hurts the poor creature of earth.
Saint Withold footed thrice the wold;
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
Bid her alight,
And her troth plight,
And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee4 note
!
-- 161 --
Kent.
How fares your grace?
Enter Gloster, with a Torch.
Lear.
What's he?
-- 162 --
Kent.
Who's there? What is't you seek?
Glo.
What are you there? Your names?
Edg.
Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog,
the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water5 note;
that in the fury of his heart, when the foul
fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows
the old rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the green
mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from
tything to tything6 note, and stocked, punished, and
imprisoned7 note; who hath had three suits to his back,
-- 163 --
six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapon to
wear,—
But mice, and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year8 note
.
Beware my follower:—Peace, Smolkin; peace9 note, thou fiend!
Glo.
What, hath your grace no better company?
Edg.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman1 note;
Modo he's call'd, and Mahu2 note
.
-- 164 --
Glo.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile,
That it doth hate what gets it.
Edg.
Poor Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer3 note
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands:
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you;
Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
Lear.
First let me talk with this philosopher:—
What is the cause of thunder?
Kent.
Good my lord, take his offer;
Go into the house.
Lear.
I'll talk a word with this same learned* note Theban4 note:—
What is your study?
Edg.
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear.
Let me ask you one word in private.
Kent.
Impórtune him once more to go, my lord,
His wits begin to unsettle5 note
.
-- 165 --
Glo.
Can'st thou blame him?
His daughters seek his death:—Ah, that good Kent!—
He said it would be thus:—Poor banish'd man!—
Thou say'st, the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself: I had a son,
Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life,
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,—
No father his son dearer: true to tell thee,
[Storm continues.
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this!
I do beseech your grace,—
Lear.
O, cry you mercy,
Noble philosopher, your company.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
In fellow, there, to the hovel: keep thee warm.
Lear.
Come, let's in all.
Kent.
This way, my lord.
Lear.
With him;
I will keep still with my philosopher.
Kent.
Good my lord, sooth him; let him take the fellow.
Glo.
Take him you on.
Kent.
Sirrah, come on; go along with us.
Lear.
Come, good Athenian.
Glo.
No words, no words:
Hush.
-- 166 --
Edg.
Child Rowland to the dark tower came6 note
,
His word was still,—Fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
[Exeunt.
-- 167 --
SCENE V.
A Room in Gloster's Castle.
Enter Cornwall and Edmund.
Corn.
I will have my revenge, ere I depart his house.
Edm.
How, my lord, I may be censured, that
nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears
me to think of.
Corn.
I now perceive, it was not altogether your
brother's evil disposition made him seek his death;
but a provoking merit7 note
, set a-work by a reproveable
badness in himself.
Edm.
How malicious is my fortune, that I must
repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of,
which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages
-- 168 --
of France. O heavens! that this treason
were not, or not I the detector!
Corn.
Go with me to the duchess.
Edm.
If the matter of this paper be certain, you
have mighty business in hand.
Corn.
True, or false, it hath made thee earl of
Gloster. Seek out where thy father is, that he may
be ready for our apprehension.
Edm. [Aside.]
If I find him comforting8 note
the
king, it will stuff his suspicion more fully.—I will
persevere in my course of loyalty, though the conflict
be sore between that and my blood.
Corn.
I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt
find a dearer* note father in my love.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
A Chamber in a Farm-House, adjoining the Castle.
Enter Gloster, Lear, Kent, Fool, and Edgar.
Glo.
Here is better than the open air; take it
thankfully: I will piece out the comfort with what
addition I can: I will not be long from you.
Kent.
All the power of his wits has given way
to his impatience:—The gods reward your kindness!
[Exit Gloster.
Edg.
Frateretto calls me; and tells me, Nero is
an angler9 note
in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent1 note
,
and beware the foul fiend.
-- 169 --
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me2 note
, whether a
madman be a gentleman, or a yeoman?
Lear.
A king, a king!
Fool3 note.
No; he's a yeoman, that has a gentleman
to his son: for he's a mad yeoman, that sees his son
a gentleman before him.
Lear.
To have a thousand with red burning spits
Come whizzing in upon them4 note
:—
-- 170 --
Edg.4 note
The foul fiend bites my back.
Fool.
He's mad, that trusts in the tameness of a
wolf, a horse's health5 note
, a boy's love, or a whore's
oath.
Lear.
It shall be done, I will arraign them straight:—
Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer6 note
;—
[To Edgar.
Thou, sapient sir, sit here. [To the Fool.]—Now, you she foxes!—
Edg.
Look, where he stands and glares!—
Wantest thou eyes7 note at trial, madam8 note?
-- 171 --
Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me9 note
:—
Fool.
Her boat hath a leak,
And she must not speak
Why she dares not come over to thee.
-- 172 --
Edg.
The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the
voice of a nightingale1 note. Hopdance cries in Tom's
belly2 note
for two white herring3 note. Croak not, black
angel; I have no food for thee.
-- 173 --
Kent.
How do you, sir? Stand you not so amaz'd:
Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?
Lear.
I'll see their trial first:—Bring in the evidence.—
Thou robed man of justice, take thy place;—
[To Edgar.
And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity,
[To the Fool.
Bench by his side:—You are of the commission,
Sit you too.
[To Kent.
Edg.
Let us deal justly.
Sleepest, or wakest thou, jolly shephérd4 note
?
Thy sheep be in the corn;
And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,
Thy sheep shall take no harm.
Pur5 note! the cat is grey.
-- 174 --
Lear.
Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here
take my oath before this honourable assembly, she
kicked the poor king her father.
Fool.
Come hither, mistress; Is your name
Goneril?
Lear.
She cannot deny it.
Fool.
Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool6 note.
Lear.
And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim
What store her heart is made of.—Stop her there!
Arms, arms, sword, fire!—Corruption in the place!
False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape?
Edg.
Bless thy five wits!
Kent.
O pity!—Sir, where is the patience now,
That you so oft have boasted to retain?
Edg.
My tears begin to take his part so much,
They'll mar my counterfeiting.
[Aside.
Lear.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me7 note
.
Edg.
Tom will throw his head at them:—
Avaunt, you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white8 note,
Tooth that poisons if it bite;
Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim,
Hound, or spaniel, brach, or lym9 note
;
-- 175 --
Or bobtail tike1 note
, or trundle-tail2 note
;
Tom will make them3 note weep and wail:
-- 176 --
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do de, de, de. Sessa. Come4 note
, march to wakes and
fairs, and market towns:—Poor Tom, thy horn is
dry5 note
.
-- 177 --
Lear.
Then let them anatomize Regan, see
what breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in
nature, that makes these hard hearts* note?—You, sir,
-- 178 --
I entertain you for one of my hundred; only, I do
not like the fashion of your garments: you will
say, they are Persian attire6 note
* note; but let them be
changed.
[To Edgar.
Kent.
Now, good my lord, lie here7 note
, and rest
awhile.
Lear.
Make no noise, make no noise; draw the
curtains: So, so, so: We'll go to supper i' the
morning: So, so, so.
Fool.
And I'll go to bed at noon8 note.
Re-enter Gloster.
Glo.
Come hither, friend: Where is the king my master?
Kent.
Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone.
Glo.
Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy arms;
I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him:
There is a litter ready; lay him in't,
And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master:
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,
-- 179 --
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss: Take up, take up9 note;
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct.
[Kent.
Oppress'd nature sleeps1 note
:—
This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses2 note
,
Which, if convenience will not allow,
Stand in hard cure.—Come, help to bear thy master;
Thou must not stay behind.
[To the Fool.
Glo.
Come, come, away.
[Exeunt Kent, Gloster, and the Fool, bearing off the King.
Edg.
When we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
-- 180 --
Who alone suffers, suffers most i' the mind;
Leaving free things3 note, and happy shows, behind:
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip,
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship4 note
.
How light and portable my pain seems now,
When that which makes me bend, makes the king bow;
He childed, as I father'd!—Tom, away:
Mark the high noises5 note
; and thyself bewray6 note
,
-- 181 --
When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee7 note,
In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee.
What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king!
Lurk, lurk.]
[Exit.
SCENE VII.
A Room in Gloster's Castle.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, and Servants.
Corn.
Post speedily to my lord your husband;
show him this letter:—the army of France is
landed:—Seek out the villain Gloster.
[Exeunt some of the Servants.
Reg.
Hang him instantly.
Gon.
Pluck out his eyes.
Corn.
Leave him to my displeasure.—Edmund,
keep you our sister company; the revenges we are
bound to take upon your traitorous father, are not
fit for your beholding. Advise the duke, where
you are going, to a most festinate preparation8 note; we
are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift,
and intelligent betwixt us9 note
. Farewell, dear sister;
—farewell, my lord of Gloster1 note.
-- 182 --
Enter Steward.
How now? Where's the king?
Stew.
My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him hence:
Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
Hot questrists after him2 note, met him at gate;
Who, with some other of the lord's dependants,
Are gone with him towards Dover: where they boast
To have well-armed friends.
Corn.
Get horses for your mistress.
Gon.
Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.
[Exeunt Goneril and Edmund.
Corn.
Edmund, farewell.—Go, seek the traitor Gloster,
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us:
[Exeunt other Servants.
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice; yet our power
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath3 note
, which men
-- 183 --
May blame, but not control. Who's there? The traitor?
Re-enter Servants, with Gloster.
Reg.
Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.
Corn.
Bind fast his corky arms4 note
.
Glo.
What mean your graces?—Good my friends, consider
You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.
Corn.
Bind him, I say.
[Servants bind him.
Reg.
Hard, hard:—O filthy traitor!
Glo.
Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none5 note.
Corn.
To this chair bind him:—Villain, thou shalt find—
[Regan plucks his Beard.
Glo.
By the kind gods6 note
, 'tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the beard.
-- 184 --
Reg.
So white, and such a traitor!
Glo.
Naughty lady,
These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
Will quicken7 note, and accuse thee: I am your host;
With robbers' hands, my hospitable favours8 note
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
Corn.
Come, sir, what letters had you late from France?
Reg.
Be simple-answer'd9 note, for we know the truth.
Corn.
And what confederacy have you with the traitors
Late footed in the kingdom?
Reg.
To whose hands have you sent the lunatick king,
Speak.
Glo.
I have a letter guessingly set down,
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
And not from one oppos'd.
Corn.
Cunning.
Reg.
And false.
Corn.
Where hast thou sent the king?
Glo.
To Dover.
Reg.
Wherefore
-- 185 --
To Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at peril1 note—
Corn.
Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that.
Glo.
I am tied to the stake2 note
, and I must stand the course3 note.
Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?
Glo.
Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs4 note
.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up,
And quench'd the stelled* note fires: yet, poor old heart,
He holp the heavens to rain5 note.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time6 note
,
Thou should'st have said, Good porter, turn the key;
-- 186 --
All cruels else subscrib'd7 note:—But I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.
Corn.
See it shalt thou never:—Fellows, hold the chair:—
Upon these eyes8 note
of thine I'll set my foot.
[Gloster is held down in his Chair, while
Cornwall plucks out one of his Eyes, and
sets his Foot on it.
Glo.
He, that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help:—O cruel! O ye gods!
Reg.
One side will mock another; the other too.
Corn.
If you see vengeance,—
Serv.
Hold your hand, my lord:
I have serv'd you ever since I was a child;
But better service have I never done you,
Than now to bid you hold.
Reg.
How now, you dog?
Serv.
If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I'd shake it on this quarrel: What do you mean?
-- 187 --
Corn.
My villain9 note!
[Draws and runs at him.
Serv.
Nay, then come on, and take the chance of anger.
[Draws. They fight. Cornwall is wounded.
Reg.
Give me thy sword.—[To another Serv.] A peasant stand up thus!
[Snatches a Sword, comes behind, and stabs him.
Serv.
O, I am slain!—My lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him:—O!
[Dies.
Corn.
Lest it see more, prevent it:—Out, vile jelly!
Where is thy lustre now?
[Tears out Gloster's other Eye, and throws it on the Ground.
Glo.
All dark and comfortless.—Where's my son Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle* note all the sparks of nature,
To quit this horrid act.
Reg.
Out, treacherous villain!
Thou call'st on him that hates thee: it was he
That made the overture of thy treasons1 note to us;
Who is too good to pity thee.
Glo.
O my follies!
Then Edgar was abus'd.—
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!
Reg.
Go, thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
His way to Dover.—How is't, my lord? How look you?
-- 188 --
Corn.
I have receiv'd a hurt:—Follow me, lady.
Turn out that eyeless villain;—throw this slave
Upon the dunghill.—Regan, I bleed apace:
Untimely comes this hurt: Give me your arm.
[Exit Cornwall, led by Regan;—Servants
unbind Gloster, and lead him out.
1 Serv.
I'll never care what wickedness I do2 note
,
If this man comes to good.
2 Serv.
If she live long,
And, in the end, meet the old course of death3 note,
Women will all turn monsters.
1 Serv.
Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam
To lead him where he would; his roguish* note madness
Allows itself to any thing.
2 Serv.
Go thou; I'll fetch some flax4 note
, and whites of eggs,
-- 189 --
To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him!
[Exeunt severally.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The Heath.
Enter Edgar.
Edg.
Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd5 note
,
-- 190 --
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear6 note
:
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then7 note,
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace!
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts.—But who comes here?—
Enter Gloster, led by an old Man.
My father, poorly led?—World, world, O world!
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee8 note
,
Life would not yield to age.
-- 191 --
Old Man.
O my good lord, I have been your
tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore
years.
Glo.
Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee they may hurt.
Old Man.
Alack, sir* note, you cannot see your way.
Glo.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw: Full oft 'tis seen,
Our means secure us9 note
; and our mere defects
-- 192 --
Prove our commodities.—Ah, dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath!
Might I but live to see thee in my touch1 note,
I'd say, I had eyes again!
Old Man.
How now? Who's there?
Edg. [Aside.]
O gods! Who is't can say, I am at the worst?
I am worse than e'er I was.
Old Man.
'Tis poor mad Tom.
Edg. [Aside.]
And worse I may be yet: The worst is not,
So long as we can say, This is the worst2 note
.
Old Man.
Fellow, where goest?
Glo.
Is it a beggar-man?
Old Man.
Madman and beggar too.
Glo.
He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
Which made me think a man a worm: My son
Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard more since:
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods;
They kill us for their sport3 note
.
-- 193 --
Edg.
How should this be?—
Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow,
Ang'ring itself and others. [Aside.]—Bless thee, master!
Glo.
Is that the naked fellow?
Old Man.
Ay, my lord.
Glo.
Then, pr'ythee, get thee gone: If, for my sake,
Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,
I the way to Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some covering for this naked soul,
Whom I'll entreat to lead me.
Old Man.
Alack, sir, he's mad.
Glo.
'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;
Above the rest, be gone.
Old Man.
I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have,
Come on't what will.
[Exit.
Glo.
Sirrah, naked fellow.
Edg.
Poor Tom's a-cold.—I cannot daub it4 note
further.
[Aside.
Glo.
Come hither, fellow.
Edg. [Aside.]
And yet I must.—Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.
Glo.
Know'st thou the way to Dover?
Edg.
Both stile and gate, horse-way, and foot-path.
Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good
-- 194 --
wits: Bless the good man from the foul fiend5 note
!
[Five fiends6 note have been in poor Tom at once; of
lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness;
Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; and
Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing7 note; who
since possesses chamber-maids and waiting-women8 note
.
So, bless thee, master!]
-- 195 --
Glo.
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heaven's plagues
Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched,
Makes thee the happier:—Heavens, deal so still!
Let the superfluous9 note
, and lust-dieted man,
That slaves your ordinance1 note
, that will not see
-- 196 --
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;
So distribution should undo excess,
And each man have enough.—Dost thou know Dover?
Edg.
Ay, master.
Glo.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in the confined deep2 note
:
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear,
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no leading need.
Edg.
Give me thy arm;
Poor Tom shall lead thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Before the Duke of Albany's Palace.
Enter Goneril and Edmund; Steward meeting them.
Gon.
Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our mild husband3 note
-- 197 --
Not met us on the way:—Now, where's your master?
Stew.
Madam, within; but never man so chang'd:
I told him of the army that was landed;
He smil'd at it: I told him, you were coming;
His answer was, The worse: of Gloster's treachery,
And of the loyal service of his son,
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot;
And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out:—
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.
Gon.
Then shall you go no further.
[To Edmund.
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs,
Which tie him to an answer: Our wishes, on the way,
May prove effects4 note
. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
-- 198 --
Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers:
I must change arms5 note at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;
[Giving a Favour.
Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air6 note
;—
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edm.
Yours in the ranks of death.
Gon.
My most dear Gloster!
[Exit Edmund.
O, the difference of man, and man7 note
!
To thee a woman's services are due;
My fool usurps my bed8 note
.
-- 199 --
Stew.
Madam, here comes my lord.
[Exit Steward.
Enter Albany.
Gon.
I have been worth the whistle* note 9 note
.
Alb.
O Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face.—I fear your disposition1 note:
That nature, which contemns its origin,
Cannot be border'd certain in itself2 note
;
She that herself will sliver and disbranch3 note
-- 200 --
From her material sap4 note
, perforce must wither,
And come to deadly use5 note
.
Gon.
No more; the text is foolish.
Alb.
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
-- 201 --
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick6 note,
Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefited?
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences7 note,
'Twill come,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep8 note
.
Gon.
Milk-liver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st9 note,
Fools do those villains pity1 note
, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
-- 202 --
With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cry'st,
Alack! why does he so?
Alb.
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity2 note seems not* note in the fiend
So horrid, as in woman.
Gon.
O vain fool!
Alb.
Thou changed and self-cover'd thing3 note
, for shame,
-- 203 --
Be-monster not thy feature4 note. Were it my fitness
To let these hands obey my blood5 note
,
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones:—Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's shape doth shield thee.
Gon.
Marry, your manhood now!—
Enter a Messenger.
Alb.
What news?
Mess.
O, my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's dead;
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Gloster.
Alb.
Gloster's eyes!
Mess.
A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword
To his great master; who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead6 note:
But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath pluck'd him after.
Alb.
This shows you are above,
You justicers7 note, that these our nether crimes
-- 204 --
So speedily can venge!—But, O poor Gloster!
Lost he his other eye!
Mess.
Both, both, my lord.—
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
'Tis from your sister.
Gon. [Aside.]
One way I like this well8 note;
But being widow, and my Gloster with her,
May all the building in my fancy9 note pluck
Upon my hateful life: Another way,
The news is not so tart* note.—I'll read, and answer.
[Exit.
Alb.
Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
Mess.
Come with my lady hither.
Alb.
He is not here.
Mess.
No, my good lord; I met him back again.
Alb.
Knows he the wickedness?
Mess.
Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
And quit the house of purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.
Alb.
Gloster, I live
To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
And to revenge thine eyes.—Come hither, friend;
Tell me what more thou knowest.
[Exeunt.
-- 205 --
1 note
.
[SCENE III
The French Camp near Dover.
Enter Kent, and a Gentleman2 note.
Kent.
Why the king of France is so suddenly
gone back3 note know you the reason?
Gent.
Something he left imperfect in the state,
Which since his coming forth is thought of; which
Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his personal return was most requir'd,
And necessary.
-- 206 --
Kent.
Who hath he left behind him general?
Gent.
The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer4 note.
Kent.
Did your letters pierce the queen to any
demonstration of grief?
Gent.
Ay, sir5 note; she took them, read them in my presence;
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a queen
Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.
Kent.
O, then it mov'd her.
Gent.
Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove6 note
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
Were like a better May7 note
: Those happy smiles8 note,
-- 207 --
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
-- 208 --
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd9 note
.—In brief, sorrow
Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all
Could so become it.
-- 209 --
Kent.
Made she no verbal question1 note
?
Gent.
'Faith, once, or twice2 note
, she heav'd the name of father
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart;
Cried, Sisters! sisters!—Shame of ladies! sisters!
Kent! father! sisters! What? i' the storm? i' the night?
Let pity not be believed3 note
!—There she shook
The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
And clamour moisten'd4 note
: then away she started
To deal with grief alone.
-- 210 --
Kent.
It is the stars,
The stars above us, govern our conditions5 note;
Else one self mate and mate6 note
could not beget
Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?
Gent.
No.
Kent.
Was this before the king return'd?
Gent.
No, since.
Kent.
Well, sir; The poor distress'd Lear is i' the town:
Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about, and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter.
Gent.
Why, good sir?
Kent.
A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,
That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters,—these things sting
His mind so venomously, that burning shame7 note
Detains him from Cordelia.
Gent.
Alack, poor gentleman!
Kent.
Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not?
Gent.
'Tis so; they are afoot8 note
.
-- 211 --
Kent.
Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him: some dear cause9 note
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
Along with me.]
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The Same. A Tent.
Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers.
Cor.
Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud;
Crown'd with rank fumiter1 note
, and furrow weeds,
With harlocks, hemlock2 note
, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
-- 212 --
Darnel2 note
, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn.—A century send forth;
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.]— What can man's wisdom do3 note
,
In the restoring his bereaved sense?
He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phy.
There is means, madam:
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,
The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many simples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.
Cor.
All bless'd secrets,
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears! be aidant, and remediate,
In the good man's distress!—Seek, seek for him;
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it4 note.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Madam, news;
The British powers are marching hitherward.
-- 213 --
Cor.
'Tis known before; our preparation stands
In expectation of them.—O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about;
Therefore great France
My mourning, and important5 note
tears, hath pitied.
No blown ambition6 note
doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and see him!
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
A Room in Gloster's Castle.
Enter Regan and Steward.
Reg.
But are my brother's powers set forth?
Stew.
Ay, madam.
Reg.
Himself
In person there?
Stew.
Madam, with much ado:
Your sister is the better soldier.
Reg.
Lord Edmund spake not with your lord7 note
at home?
-- 214 --
Stew.
No, madam.
Reg.
What might import my sister's letter to him?
Stew.
I know not, lady.
Reg.
'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out,
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his misery, to despatch
His nighted life8 note; moreover, to descry
The strength o'the enemy.
Stew.
I must needs after him, madam, with my letter9 note.
Reg.
Our troops set forth to-morrow; stay with us;
The ways are dangerous.
Stew.
I may not, madam;
My lady charg'd my duty in this business.
Reg.
Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you
Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
Something—I know not what:—I'll love thee much,
Let me unseal the letter1 note.
-- 215 --
Stew.
Madam, I had rather—
Reg.
I know, your lady does not love her husband;
I am sure of that: and, at her late being here,
She gave strange œiliads2 note
, and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund: I know, you are of her bosom.
Stew.
I, madam?
Reg.
I speak in understanding: you are, I know it3 note
:
Therefore, I do advise you, take this note4 note
:
My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;
And more convenient is he for my hand,
Than for your lady's:—You may gather more5 note
.
-- 216 --
If you do find him, pray you, give him this6 note;
And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.
So, fare you well.
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.
Stew.
'Would I could meet him, madam! I would show
What party7 note I do follow.
Reg.
Fare thee well.
[Exeunt.
8 note.
SCENE VI
The Country near Dover.
Enter Gloster, and Edgar, dressed like a Peasant.
Glo.
When shall we come to the top of that same hill?
Edg.
You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.
Glo.
Methinks, the ground is even.
Edg.
Horrible steep:
Hark, do you hear the sea?
Glo.
No, truly9 note
.
-- 217 --
Edg.
Why, then your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes' anguish.
Glo.
So may it be, indeed:
Methinks, thy voice is alter'd1 note; and thou speak'st
In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst.
Edg.
You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments.
Glo.
Methinks, you are better spoken.
Edg.
Come on, sir; here's the place:—stand still.—How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low2 note
!
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles: Half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade3 note
!
-- 218 --
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock4 note
; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high:—I'll look no more;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong5 note.
-- 219 --
Glo.
Set me where you stand.
Edg.
Give me your hand: You are now within a foot
Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright6 note
.
Glo.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, is another purse; in it, a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking: Fairies, and gods,
-- 220 --
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Edg.
Now fare you well, good sir.
[Seems to go.
Glo.
With all my heart.
Edg.
Why I do trifle thus with his despair,
Is done to cure it7 note
.
Glo.
O you mighty gods!
This world I do renounce; and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!—
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
[He leaps, and falls along.
Edg.
Gone, sir? farewell8 note
.—
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself
Yields to the theft9 note
: Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past.—Alive, or dead?
Ho, you sir! friend!—Hear you, sir?—speak!
-- 221 --
Thus might he pass indeed1 note
:—Yet he revives:
What are you, sir?
Glo.
Away, and let me die.
Edg.
Had'st thou been aught but gossomer, feathers, air2 note
,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou had'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;
Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.
Ten masts at each make not the altitude3 note
,
-- 222 --
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell;
Thy life's a miracle: Speak yet again.
Glo.
But have I fallen, or no?
Edg.
From the dread summit of this chalky bourn4 note
:
Look up a-height;—the shrill-gorg'd lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.
Glo.
Alack, I have no eyes.—
Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,
To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
And frustrate his proud will.
Edg.
Give me your arm:
Up:—So;—How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand.
Glo.
Too well, too well.
Edg.
This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that
Which parted from you?
Glo.
A poor unfortunate beggar.
Edg.
As I stood here below, methought, his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
Horns whelk'd5 note
, and wav'd like the enridged sea6 note
;
-- 223 --
It was some fiend: Therefore, thou happy father,
Think that the clearest gods7 note
, who make them honours
Of men's impossibilities8 note
, have preserv'd thee.
Glo.
I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
Affliction, till it do cry out itself,
Enough, enough, and, die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man; often 'twould say,
The fiend, the fiend: he led me to that place.
Edg.
Bear free and patient thoughts9 note.—But who comes here?
Enter Lear, fantastically dressed up with Flowers.
The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus1 note
.
-- 224 --
Lear.
No, they cannot touch me for coining2 note;
I am the king himself.
Edg.
O thou side-piercing sight!
Lear.
Nature's above art in that respect.—
There's your press-money3 note
. That fellow handles
his bow like a crow-keeper4 note
: draw me a clothier's
-- 225 --
yard5 note
.—Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace;—this
piece of toasted cheese will do't.—There's my
gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant.—Bring up the
brown bills6 note
.—O, well flown, bird!—i' the clout7 note
,
i' the clout: hewgh!—Give the word8 note.
-- 226 --
Edg.
Sweet marjoram.
Lear.
Pass.
Glo.
I know that voice.
Lear.
Ha! Goneril!—with a white beard9 note!—
They flatter'd me like a dog1 note; and told me, I had
white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were
there2 note. To say ay, and no, to every thing I said!—
Ay and no too was no good divinity. When the
rain came to wet me3 note once, and the wind to make
-- 227 --
me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at
my bidding; there I found them, there I smelt
them out. Go to, they are not men o' their words:
they told me I was every thing; 'tis a lie; I am not
ague-proof.
Glo.
The trick of that voice4 note
I do well remember:
Is't not the king?
Lear.
Ay, every inch a king:
When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes5 note
.
I pardon that man's life: What was thy cause?—
Adultery.—
Thou shalt not die: Die for adultery! No:
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.
Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't, luxury6 note, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.—
Behold yon' simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks7 note
presageth snow;
-- 228 --
That minces virtue8 note
, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name;
The fitchew9 note, nor the soiled horse1 note, goes to't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are centaurs2 note
,
Though women all above:
But to the girdle3 note
note
do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiends'4 note
; there's hell, there's darkness,
-- 229 --
there is the sulphurous* note pit5 note
, burning, scalding,
stench, consumption;—Fye, fye, fye! pah; pah!
Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to
sweeten my imagination: there's money for thee.
Glo.
O, let me kiss that hand!
Lear.
Let me wipe it first† note; it smells of mortality.
Glo.
O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought.—Dost thou know me?
Lear.
I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost
thou squiny at me6 note? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid;
I'll not love.—Read thou this challenge; mark
but the penning of it.
Glo.
Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.
Edg.
I would not take this from report;—it is,
And my heart breaks at it.
Lear.
Read.
Glo.
What, with the case of eyes7 note
?
-- 230 --
Lear.
O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes
in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your
eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light:
Yet you see how this world goes.
Glo.
I see it feelingly.
Lear.
What, art mad? A man may see how this
world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears:
see how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief.
Hark, in thine ear: Change places; and, handy-dandy8 note,
which is the justice, which is the thief?—
Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?
Glo.
Ay, sir.
Lear.
And the creature run from the cur?
-- 231 --
There thou might'st behold the great image of
authority: a dog's obeyed in office.—
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand:
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all9 note
. Plate sin1 note
with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em2 note
:
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.—Now, now, now, now:
Pull off my boots:—harder, harder; so.
Edg.
O, matter and impertinency mix'd!
Reason in madness!
-- 232 --
Lear.
If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster:
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither.
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
We wawl, and cry3 note
:—I will preach to thee; mark me.
Glo.
Alack, alack the day!
Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools;—This a good block4 note
?—
-- 233 --
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
A troop of horse with felt5 note
: I'll put it in proof;
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill6 note
.
-- 234 --
Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants.
Gent.
O, here he is; lay hand upon him.—Sir,
Your most dear daughter—
Lear.
No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune7 note
.—Use me well;
You shall have ransome. Let me have a surgeon,
I am cut to the brains.
Gent.
You shall have any thing.
Lear.
No seconds? All myself?
Why, this would make a man, a man of salt8 note
,
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
Ay, and for laying autumn's dust9 note
.
Gent.
Good sir1 note
,—
Lear.
I will die bravely, like a bridegroom: What?
I will be jovial; come, come; I am a king,
My masters, know you that?
Gent.
You are a royal one, and we obey you.
-- 235 --
Lear.
Then there's life in it2 note
. Nay, an you get
it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa3 note.
[Exit, running; Attendants follow.
Gent.
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch;
Past speaking of in a king!—Thou hast one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.
Edg.
Hail, gentle sir.
Gent.
Sir, speed you: What's your will?
Edg.
Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?
Gent.
Most sure, and vulgar: every one hears that,
Which can distinguish sound.
Edg.
But, by your favour,
How near's the other army?
Gent.
Near, and on speedy foot; the main descry
Stands on the hourly thought4 note
.
Edg.
I thank you, sir: that's all.
Gent.
Though that the queen on special cause is here,
Her army is mov'd on.
Edg.
I thank you, sir.
[Exit Gent.
Glo.
You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit5 note tempt me again
-- 236 --
To die before you please!
Edg.
Well pray you, father.
Glo.
Now, good sir, what are you?
Edg.
A most poor man, made lame by fortune's blows5 note
;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows6 note
,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I'll lead you to some biding.
Glo.
Hearty thanks:
The bounty and the benizon of heaven
To boot, and boot!
Enter Steward.
Stew.
A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes.—Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember7 note
:—The sword is out
That must destroy thee.
-- 237 --
Glo.
Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to it.
[Edgar opposes.
Stew.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
Lest that the infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
Edg.
Chill not let go, zir, without vurther
'casion.
Stew.
Let go, slave, or thou diest.
Edg.
Good gentleman, go your gait8 note, and let
poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been zwagger'd out
of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a
vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man; keep
out, che vor'ye9 note
, or ise try whether your costard1 note
or my bat* note 2 note
be the harder: Ch'ill be plain with
you.
-- 238 --
Stew.
Out, dunghill!
Edg.
Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: Come; no
matter vor your foins3 note.
[They fight; and Edgar knocks him down.
Stew.
Slave, thou hast slain me:—Villain, take my purse;
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
And give the letters, which thou find'st about me,
To Edmund earl of Gloster4 note; seek him out
Upon the British party:—O, untimely death!
[Dies.
Edg.
I know thee well: A serviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As badness would desire.
Glo.
What, is he dead?
-- 239 --
Edg.
Sit you down, father; rest you.—
Let's see his pockets: these letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends.—He's dead; I am only sorry
He had no other death's-man5 note
.—Let us see:—
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts;
Their papers, is more lawful6 note
.
[Reads.]
Let our reciprocal vows be remembered.
You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your
will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered.
There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror:
Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my
gaol; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me,
and supply the place for your labour.
Your wife, (so I would say,) and your affectionate servant7 note
,
Goneril.
-- 240 --
O undistinguish'd space of woman's will7 note
!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
And the exchange, my brother!—Here, in the sands,
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified8 note
Of murderous lechers: and, in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd duke9 note: For him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.
[Exit Edgar, dragging out the Body.
Glo.
The king is mad: How stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling1 note
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
So should my thoughts be sever'd2 note from my griefs;
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves.
-- 241 --
Re-enter Edgar.
Edg.
Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
A Tent in the French Camp. Lear on a Bed,
asleep; Physician, Gentleman3 note
, and Others, attending:
Enter Cordelia and Kent.
Cor.
O thou good Kent, how shall I live, and work,
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me4 note.
Kent.
To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'er-paid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so.
Cor.
Be better suited5 note:
-- 242 --
These weeds are memories of those worser hours6 note
;
I pr'ythee, put them off.
Kent.
Pardon me, dear madam;
Yet to be known, shortens my made intent7 note
:
My boon I make it, that you know me not,
Till time and I think meet.
Cor.
Then be it so, my good lord.—How does the king?
[To the Physician.
Phys.
Madam, sleeps still.
Cor.
O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untun'd and jarring* note senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father8 note
!
-- 243 --
Phys.
So please your majesty,
That we may wake the king? he hath slept long.
Cor.
Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?
Gent.
Ay, madam9 note
; in the heaviness of his* note sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.
Phys.
Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.
Cor.
Very well1 note.
Phys.
Please you, draw near.—Louder the musick there2 note
.
-- 244 --
Cor.
O my dear father! Restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips3 note
; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
Kent.
Kind and dear princess!
Cor.
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face
To be expos'd* note against the warring winds?
[To stand4 note against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning? to watch (poor perdu!)
With this thin helm5 note
?] Mine enemy's dog6 note
,
-- 245 --
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
-- 246 --
Against my fire; And wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all7 note
.—He wakes; speak to him.
Phys.
Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.
Cor.
How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
Lear.
You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave:—
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
Cor.
Sir, do you know me?
Lear.
You are a spirit, I know; When did you die?
Cor.
Still, still, far wide!
Phys.
He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile.
Lear.
Where have I been? Where am I?—Fair day-light?—
I am mightily abus'd8 note.—I should even die with pity,
To see another thus.—I know not what to say.—
I will not swear, these are my hands:—let's see;
I feel this pin prick. 'Would I were assur'd
Of my condition.
Cor.
O, look upon me, sir,
-- 247 --
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:—
No, sir, you must not kneel9 note
.
Lear.
Pray, do not mock me1 note
:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward2 note
; and, to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind3 note
.
Methinks, I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night: Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
-- 248 --
Cor.
And so I am, I am.
Lear.
Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know, you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
You have some cause, they have not.
Cor.
No cause, no cause.
Lear.
Am I in France?
Kent.
In your own kingdom, sir.
Lear.
Do not abuse me.
Phys.
Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,
You see, is cur'd4 note
in him: [and yet5 note
it is danger
To make him even o'er the time he has lost6 note
.]
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more,
Till further settling.
Cor.
Will't please your highness walk?
-- 249 --
Lear.
You must bear with me:
Pray now forget and forgive: I am old, and foolish.
[Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and Attendants.
[Gent.
Holds it true, sir7 note
,
That the duke of Cornwall was so slain?
Kent.
Most certain, sir.
Gent.
Who is conductor of his people?
Kent.
As 'tis said,
The bastard son of Gloster.
Gent.
They say, Edgar,
His banish'd son, is with the earl of Kent
In Germany.
Kent.
Report is changeable.
'Tis time to look about; the powers o' the kingdom
Approach apace.
Gent.
The arbitrement is like to be a bloody.
Fare you well, sir.
[Exit.
Kent.
My point and period will be throughly wrought,
Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought.]
[Exit.
-- 250 --
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The Camp of the British Forces, near Dover.
Enter, with Drums and Colours, Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers, and Others.
Edm.
Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold;
Or, whether since he is advis'd by aught
To change the course: He's full of alteration8 note
,
And self-reproving:—bring his constant pleasure9 note
.
[To an Officer, who goes out.
Reg.
Our sister's man is certainly miscarried.
Edm.
'Tis to be doubted, madam.
Reg.
Now, sweet lord,
You know the goodness I intend upon you:
Tell me,—but truly,—but then speak the truth,
Do you not love my sister?
Edm.
In honour'd love.
[Reg.
But have you never1 note found my brother's way
To the forefended place2 note
?
-- 251 --
Edm.
That thought abuses you3 note.
Reg.
I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
And bosom'd with her4 note
, as far as we call hers.
Edm.
No, by mine honour, madam.]
Reg.
I never shall endure her: Dear my lord,
Be not familiar with her.
Edm.
Fear me not:—
She, and the duke her husband,—
Enter Albany, Goneril, and Soldiers.
Gon.
I had rather lose the battle, than that sister
Should loosen him and me.
[Aside.
Alb.
Our very loving sister, well be met.—
Sir, this I hear,—The king is come to his daughter,
With others, whom the rigour of our state
Forc'd to cry out. [Where I could not5 note be honest,
I never yet was valiant6 note
: for this business,
-- 252 --
It toucheth us as France invades our land,
Not bolds the king7 note
; with others, whom, I fear,
Most just and heavy causes make oppose8 note
.
Edm.
Sir, you speak nobly9 note.]
Reg.
Why is this reason'd?
-- 253 --
Gon.
Combine together 'gainst the enemy:
For these domestick and particular broils1 note
Are not to question here2 note
.
Alb.
Let us then determine
With the ancient of war on our proceedings.
Edm.3 note
I shall attend you presently at your tent.
Reg.
Sister, you'll go with us?
Gon.
No.
Reg.
'Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us.
Gon.
O, ho, I know the riddle: [Aside.] I will go.
As they are going out, enter Edgar, disguised.
Edg.
If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor,
Hear me one word.
Alb.
I'll overtake you.—Speak.
[Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants.
Edg.
Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
For him that brought it: wretched though I seem,
I can produce a champion, that will prove
What is avouched there: If you miscarry,
Your business of the world hath so an end,
-- 254 --
And machination ceases4 note
. Fortune love you* note!
Alb.
Stay till I have read the letter.
Edg.
I was forbid it.
When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,
And I'll appear again.
[Exit.
Alb.
Why, fare thee well; I will o'erlook thy paper.
Re-enter Edmund.
Edm.
The enemy's in view, draw up your powers.
Here is the guess5 note
of their true† note strength and forces
By diligent discovery;—but your haste
Is now urg'd on you.
Alb.
We will greet the time6 note.
[Exit.
Edm.
To both these sisters have I sworn my love;
Each jealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
-- 255 --
Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,
If both remain alive: To take the widow,
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
And hardly shall I carry out my side7 note
,
Her husband being alive. Now then, we'll use
-- 256 --
His countenance for the battle; which being done,
Let her, who would be rid of him, devise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia,—
The battle done, and they within our power,
Shall never see his pardon: for my state
Stands on me to defend, not to debate8 note
.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
A Field between the two Camps.
Alarum within. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Lear, Cordelia, and their Forces; and exeunt.
Enter Edgar and Gloster9 note.
Edg.
Here, father, take the shadow of this tree* note
For your good host; pray that the right may thrive:
If ever I return to you again,
I'll bring you comfort.
Glo.
Grace go with you, sir!
[Exit Edgar.
-- 257 --
Alarums; afterwards a Retreat. Re-enter Edgar.
Edg.
Away, old man, give me thy hand, away;
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en:
Give me thy hand, come on.
Glo.
No further, sir; a man may rot even here
Edg.
What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all1 note
: Come on.
Glo.
And that's true too2 note.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The British Camp near Dover.
Enter, in Conquest, with Drum and Colours, Edmund;
Lear and Cordelia, as Prisoners; Officers, Soldiers, &c.
Edm.
Some officers take them away: good guard;
Until their greater pleasures first be known
That are to censure them3 note
.
Cor.
We are not the first,
Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst4 note.
For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;
Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.—
-- 258 --
Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters?
Lear.
No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: So we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,—
Who loses, and who wins; who's in, who's out;—
And take upon us the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies5 note
: And we'll wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects6 note of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.
Edm.
Take them away.
Lear.
Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
The gods themselves throw incense7 note
. Have I caught thee8 note
?
He, that parts us, shall bring a brand from heaven,
And fire us hence, like foxes9 note
. Wipe thine eyes;
-- 259 --
The goujeers shall devour them1 note
, flesh and fell2 note
,
Ere they shall make us weep: we'll see them starve first.
Come.
[Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded.
-- 260 --
Edm.
Come hither, captain; hark.
Take thou this note3 note
; [Giving a paper.] go, follow them to prison:
One step I have advanc'd thee; if thou dost
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
To noble fortunes: Know thou this,—that men
Are as the time is: to be tender-minded
Does not become a sword:—Thy great employment
Will not bear question4 note
; either say, thou'lt do't,
Or thrive by other means.
-- 261 --
Off.
I'll do't, my lord.
Edm.
About it; and write happy, when thou hast done.
Mark,—I say, instantly; and carry it so,
As I have set it down.
Off.
I cannot draw a cart5 note, nor eat dried oats;
If it be man's work, I will do it.
[Exit Officer.
Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Officers, and Attendants.
Alb.
Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain,
And fortune led you well: You have the captives
Who were the opposites of this day's strife:
We do require them of you6 note; so to use them,
As we shall find their merits and our safety
May equally determine.
Edm.
Sir, I thought it fit
To send the old and miserable king
To some retention, and appointed guard7 note;
Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
-- 262 --
To pluck the common bosom on his side,
And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes8 note
Which do command them. With him I sent the queen;
My reason all the same; and they are ready
To-morrow, or at further space, to appear
Where you shall hold your session. [At this time9 note,
We sweat, and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd
By those that feel their sharpness:—
The question of Cordelia, and her father,
Requires a fitter place1 note.]
Alb.
Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother.
Reg.
That's as we list to grace him.
Methinks, our pleasure might* note have been demanded,
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers;
Bore the commission of2 note my place and person;
The which immediacy3 note
may well stand up,
And call itself your brother.
-- 263 --
Gon.
Not so hot:
In his own grace4 note
he doth exalt himself,
More than in your advancement5 note.
Reg.
In my rights,
By me invested, he compeers the best.
Gon.
That were the most, if he should husband you6 note.
Reg.
Jesters do oft prove prophets.
Gon.
Holla, holla!
That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint7 note
.
Reg.
Lady, I am not well; else I should answer
From a full-flowing stomach.—General,
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;
-- 264 --
Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine8 note
:
Witness the world, that I create thee here
My lord and master.
Gon.
Mean you to enjoy him?
Alb.
The let-alone lies not in your good will9 note
.
Edm.
Nor in thine, lord.
Alb.
Half-blooded fellow, yes.
Reg.
Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine1 note
.
[To Edmund.
Alb.
Stay yet; hear reason:—Edmund, I arrest thee
On capital treason; and, in thy arrest2 note,
This gilded serpent: [Pointing to Gon.]—for your claim, fair sister,
I bar it in the interest of my wife;
'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
If you will marry, make your love to me,
My lady is bespoke.
-- 265 --
Gon.
An interlude3 note!
Alb.
Thou art arm'd, Gloster:—Let the trumpet sound4 note:
If none appear to prove upon thy person5 note,
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
There is my pledge; [Throwing down a Glove.] I'll prove it on thy heart,
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
Than I have here proclaim'd thee.
Reg.
Sick, O, sick!
Gon.
If not, I'll ne'er trust poison6 note.
[Aside.
Edm.
There's my exchange: [Throwing down a Glove.] what in the world he is
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies:
Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
On him, on you, (who not?) I will maintain
My truth and honour firmly.
Alb.
A herald, ho!
Edm.
A herald, ho, a herald7 note!
Alb.
Trust to thy single virtue8 note; for thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name
Took their discharge.
Reg.
This sickness grows upon me.
Enter a Herald.
Alb.
She is not well; convey her to my tent.
[Exit Regan, led.
-- 266 --
Come hither, herald,—Let the trumpet sound,—
And read out this.
Off.
Sound, trumpet9 note.
[A trumpet sounds.
Herald reads.
If any man of quality, or degree, within the lists
of the army1 note, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed
earl of Gloster, that he is a manifold traitor, let
him appear at the third sound of the trumpet: He
is bold in his defence.
Edm.
Sound2 note.
[1 Trumpet.
Her.
Again.
[2 Trumpet.
Her.
Again.
[3 Trumpet.
[Trumpet answers within.
Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a Trumpet.
Alb.
Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Upon this call o' the trumpet3 note.
Her.
What are you?
Your name, your quality? and why you answer
This present summons?
Edg.
Know, my name is lost;
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit:
Yet am I noble4 note
, as the adversary
I come to cope withal.
-- 267 --
Alb.
Which is that adversary?
Edg.
What's he, that speaks for Edmund earl of Gloster?
Edm.
Himself,—What say'st thou to him?
Edg.
Draw thy sword;
That, if my speech offend a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine5 note
.
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
My oath, and my profession6 note
: I protest,—
Maugre7 note
thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune,
-- 268 --
Thy valour, and thy heart,—thou art a traitor:
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
Conspirant 'gainst7 note
this high illustrious prince;
And, from the extremest upward of thy head,
To the descent and dust beneath thy feet8 note,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No,
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest.
Edm.
In wisdom, I should ask thy name9 note
;
But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue some 'say of breeding breathes* note 1
note
,
-- 269 --
What safe and nicely I might well delay2 note
By rule* note of knighthood, I disdain and spurn:
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;
Which, (for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,)
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
Where they shall rest for ever3 note.—Trumpets, speak.
[Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls.
Alb.
O save him, save him!
Gon.
This is mere practice, Gloster4 note
:
By the law of arms5 note, thou wast not bound to answer6 note
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd,
But cozen'd and beguil'd.
-- 270 --
Alb.
Shut your mouth, dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it:—Hold, sir:—
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil:—
No tearing, lady; I perceive, you know it.
[Gives the Letter to Edmund.
Gon.
Say, if I do; the laws are mine, not thine:
Who shall arraign me for't?
Alb.
Most monstrous7 note
!
Know'st thou this paper?
Gon.
Ask me not what I know.
[Exit Goneril.
Alb.
Go after her: she's desperate; govern her.
[To an Officer, who goes out.
Edm.
What you have charg'd me with, that have I done;
And more, much more: the time will bring it out;
'Tis past, and so am I: But what art thou,
That hast this fortune on me? If thou art noble,
I do forgive thee.
Edg.
Let's exchange charity8 note
.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more the more thou hast wrong'd me.
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to scourge us9 note
:
-- 271 --
The dark and vicious place where thee he got,
Cost him his eyes.
Edm.
Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true;
The wheel is come full circle1 note; I am here.
Alb.
Methought, thy very gait did prophecy
A royal nobleness:—I must embrace thee;
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
Did hate thee, or thy father!
Edg.
Worthy prince, I know't2 note.
Alb.
Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father?
Edg.
By nursing them, my lord.—List a brief tale;—
And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!—
The bloody proclamation to escape,
That follow'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness!
That with the pain of death we'd hourly die3 note
,
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift4 note
Into a mad-man's rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
-- 272 --
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost5 note
; became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him,
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd,
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: But his flaw'd heart,
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support!)
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.
Edm.
This speech of yours hath mov'd me,
And shall, perchance, do good: but speak you on;
You look as you had something more to say.
Alb.
If there be more, more woful, hold it in;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.
[Edg.6 note
This would have seem'd a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too-much, would make much more,
And top extremity7 note
.
-- 273 --
Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man,
Who having seen me in my worst estate,
-- 274 --
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms
He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out
As he'd burst heaven; threw me on my father8 note
:
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him,
That ever ear receiv'd: which in recounting
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack: Twice then the trumpet sounded9 note,
And there I left him tranc'd.
Alb.
But who was this?
Edg.
Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise
Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service
Improper for a slave.]
Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody Knife.
Gent.
Help! help! O help!
Edg.
What kind of help?
Alb.
Speak, man.
-- 275 --
Edg.
What means that bloody knife?
Gent.
'Tis hot, it smokes;
It came even from the heart of1 note
—
Alb.
Who, man? speak2 note.
Gent.
Your lady, sir, your lady: and her sister
By her is poison'd; she hath confess'd it3 note
.
Edm.
I was contracted to them both; all three
Now marry in an instant4 note
.
Alb.
Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead!—
This judgment5 note
of the heavens, that makes us tremble,
Touches us not with pity.
[Exit Gentleman.
Enter Kent.
Edg.
Here comes Kent, sir6 note.
-- 276 --
Alb.
O! it is he7 note.
The time will not allow the compliment,
Which very manners urges.
Kent.
I am come
To bid my king and master aye good night;
Is he not here?
Alb.
Great thing of us forgot!—
Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia?—
See'st thou this object, Kent?
[The Bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in.
Kent.
Alack, why thus?
Edm.
Yet Edmund was belov'd8 note
:
The one the other poison'd for my sake,
And after slew herself.
Alb.
Even so.—Cover their faces.
Edm.
I pant for life:—Some good I mean to do,
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,—
Be brief in it,—to the castle; for my writ
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:—
Nay, send in time.
Alb.
Run, run, O, run—
Edg.
To who, my lord?—Who has the office? send
Thy token of reprieve.
-- 277 --
Edm.
Well thought on; take my sword,
Give it the captain9 note
.
Alb.
Haste thee, for thy life1 note.
[Exit Edgar.
Edm.
He hath commission from thy wife and me
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
To lay the blame upon her own despair,
That she fordid herself* note 2 note
.
Alb.
The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.
[Edmund is borne off.
Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his Arms3 note
; Edgar, Officer, and Others.
Lear.
Howl, howl, howl, howl!—O, you are men of stones;
-- 278 --
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
That heaven's vault should crack:—O, she is gone for ever!—
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
She's dead as earth:—Lend me a looking-glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.
Kent.
Is this the promis'd end?
Edg.
Or image of that horror4 note
?
-- 279 --
Alb.
Fall, and cease5 note
!
Lear.
This feather stirs6 note
; she lives! if it be so,
-- 280 --
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.
Kent.
O my good master!
[Kneeling.
Lear.
Pr'ythee, away.
Edg.
'Tis noble Kent, your friend.
Lear.
A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all7 note!
-- 281 --
I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever!—
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha!
What is't thou say'st?—Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman:—
I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee.
Off.
'Tis true, my lords, he did.
Lear.
Did I not, fellow?
I have seen the day, with my good biting faulchion
I would have made them skip8 note
: I am old now,
And these same crosses spoil me.—Who are you?
Mine eyes are none o' the best:—I'll tell you straight.
Kent.
If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold9 note
.
-- 282 --
Lear.
This is a dull sight1 note
: Are you not Kent?
Kent.
The same;
Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius?
Lear.
He's a good fellow, I can tell you that;
He'll strike, and quickly too:—He's dead and rotten.
Kent.
No, my good lord; I am the very man;—
Lear.
I'll see that straight.
Kent.
That, from your first of difference and decay2 note
,
Have follow'd your sad steps.
Lear.
You are welcome hither.
Kent.
Nor no man else3 note; all's cheerless, dark, and deadly.—
Your eldest daughters have fore-doom'd themselves4 note
,
And desperately are dead.
Lear.
Ay, so I think.
-- 283 --
Alb.
He knows not what he says5 note; and vain it is
That we present us to him.
Edg.
Very bootless.
Enter an Officer.
Off.
Edmund is dead, my lord.
Alb.
That's but a trifle here.—
You lords, and noble friends, know our intent.
What comfort to this great decay may come6 note
,
Shall be applied: For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old majesty,
To him our absolute power:—You, to your rights;
[To Edgar and Kent.
With boot, and such addition as your honours
Have more than merited7 note
.—All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings.—O, see, see!
Lear.
And my poor fool is hang'd8 note
! No, no, no life:
-- 284 --
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no more,
-- 285 --
Never, never, never, never, never!—
Pray you, undo this button9 note
: Thank you, sir.—
-- 286 --
Do you see this1 note? Look on her,—look,—her lips,—
Look there, look there!—
[He dies.
-- 287 --
Edg.
He faints!—My lord, my lord,—
Kent.
Break, heart; I pr'ythee, break2 note!
Edg.
Look up, my lord.
Kent.
Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass3 note! he hates him,
That would upon the rack of this tough world4 note
Stretch him out longer.
-- 288 --
Edg.
O, he is gone, indeed.
Kent.
The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long:
He but usurp'd his life.
Alb.
Bear them from hence.—Our present business
Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain
[To Kent and Edgar.
Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state5 note
sustain.
Kent.
I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
My master calls, and I must not say, no6 note
.
Alb.
The weight of this sad time we must obey7 note;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
-- 289 --
The oldest hath borne most: we, that are young,
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
[Exeunt, with a dead March8.
