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 --
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
