Scene 1
SCENE, A Heath.
A storm is heard with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, severally.
Kent.
Who's there, besides foul weather?
Gent.
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
Kent.
I know you, where's the King?
Gent.
Contending with the fretful elements;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea;
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change, or cease: tears his white hair,
(Which the impetuous blasts with eyeless rage
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of.)
Strives in his little World of Man t' outscorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting Wind and Rain.
-- 156 --
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their furr dry; unbonnetted he runs,
And bids what will, take all.
Kent.
But who is with him?
Gent.
None but the fool, who labours to out-jest
His heart-struck injuries.
Kent.
Sir, I do know you,
And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
Commend a dear thing to you. There's division
(Although as yet the face of it is cover'd
With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall:
Who have (as who have not, whom their great stars(25) note
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 seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the Dukes;
Or the hard rein, which both of them have born
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
(Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings—)
But true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret sea
In some of our best ports, and are at point
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 of you,
Offer this office.
Gent.
I'll talk further with you.
-- 157 --
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 shall) shew her that Ring,
And she will tell you who this fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fie 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;
That, when we have found the King, (in which you take
That way, I this:) he that first lights on him,
Hollow the other.
[Exeunt severally.
Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool.
Lear.
Blow winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow!
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout
'Till you have drencht our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head. And thou all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o'th' world;
Crack nature's mould, all germins spill at once(26) note
-- 158 --
That make ingrateful man.
Fool.
O nuncle, court-holy-water in a dry house is better
than the rain-waters out o' door. Good nuncle, in,
and ask thy daughters blessing: here's a night, that pities
neither wise men nor fools.
Lear.
Rumble thy belly full, spit fire, spout rain;
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters;
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children;
You owe me no subscription. 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 joyn'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul.
Fool.
He that has a house to put's head in, has a good
head-piece:
The codpiece that will house, before the head has any:
The head and he shall lowse; so beggars marry many.
That man that makes his toe, what he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe, and turn his sleep to wake.
For there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths in a glass.
To them, Enter Kent.
Lear.
No, I will be the pattern of all patience,
I will say nothing.
Kent.
Who's there?
Fool.
Marry here's grace, and a cod-piece, that's a wise
man and a fool.
Kent.
Alas, Sir, are you here? things that love night,
Love not such nights as these: the wrathful Skies
Gallow the very wand'rers of the dark,
-- 159 --
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
Th' affliction, nor the force.
Lear.
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,(27) note
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou Perjure, and thou Simular of virtue,(28) note
That art incestuous: caitiff, shake to pieces,
That under covert and convenient seeming,
Hast practis'd on man's life!—Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and ask
These dreadful summoners grace.—I am a man,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Kent.
Alack, bare-headed?
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 whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Denyed me to come in) return, and force
Their scanted courtesie.
Lear.
My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? art cold?
I'm cold my self. Where is the straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
-- 160 --
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel;
Poor fool and knave, I've one part in my heart,
That's sorry yet for thee.
Fool.
He that has an a little tynie wit,
With heigh ho, the wind and the rain;
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day.
Lear.
True, my good boy: come, bring us to this hovel.
[Exit.
Fool.
'Tis a brave night to cool a curtezan.
I'll speak a prophecy, or ere I go;
When priests are more in words than matter,
When brewers marr their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors tutors;
No hereticks burn'd, but wenches suitors;
When every case in law is right,
No Squire in debt, nor no poor Knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues,
And cut-purses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i'th' field,
And bawds and whores do churches build:
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion:
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That Going shall be us'd with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I do live before his time.
[Exit.
Scene 2
SCENE, An Apartment in Glo'ster's castle.
Enter Glo'ster, 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; charg'd me, on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither
to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way sustain
him.
-- 161 --
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
receiv'd a letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken;
(I have lock'd the letter in my closet:) these injuries, the
King now bears, will be revenged home; there is part of
a power already footed;(28) note
we must incline to the King;
I will look for him, and privily relieve him; go you, and
maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of
him perceiv'd; if he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to
bed; if I die for it, as no less is threaten'd me, the King
my old master must be relieved. There are strange things
toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful.
[Exit.
Edm.
This courtesie, 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.
Scene 3
SCENE changes to a part of the Heath, with a hovel.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Kent.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter;
The tyranny o'th' open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Let me alone.
-- 162 --
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Wilt break my heart?
Kent.
I'd rather break mine own; good my lord, enter.
Lear.
Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear,
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i'th' 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'll punish home;
No, I will weep no more—In such a night,
To shut me out?—pour on, I will endure:
In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill,
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all—
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.—
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Pr'ythee, go in thy self; seek thine own ease;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more—but I'll go in,
In, boy, go first. You houseless poverty—
Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep—
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm!
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness defend you
From seasons such as these?—O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! take physick, Pomp;
Expose thy self to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And shew the Heavens more just.
Edg. within.
Fathom and half, fathom and half! poor Tom.
Fool.
Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit; help
me, help me.
[The Fool runs out from the hovel.
Kent.
Give me thy hand, who's there?
Fool.
A spirit, a spirit; he says, his name's poor Tom.
-- 163 --
Kent.
What art thou, that dost grumble there i'th'
straw? come forth.
Enter Edgar, disguis'd like a Madman.
Edg.
Away! the foul fiend follows me. Through the
sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Humph, go to
thy bed and warm thee.
Lear.
Didst thou give all to thy daughters? and art
thou come to this?(29) note
-- 164 --
Edg.
Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the
foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame,
through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire;
that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his
pew; set ratsbane by his Porredge, made him proud of
heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse, over four inch'd
bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor,—bless
thy five wits; Tom's a-cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de;
—bless thee from whirl-winds, star-blasting, and taking;
do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes.
There could I have him now, and there, and here again,
and there.
[Storm still.
Lear.
What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
Could'st thou save nothing? did'st thou give 'em all?
Fool.
Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all
shamed.
Lear.
Now all the plagues, that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's faults, 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?
-- 165 --
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.
Edg.
Pillicock sat on pillicock-hill, alow, alow, loo,
loo!
Fool.
This cold night will turn us all to fools, and madmen.
Edg.
Take heed o'th' foul fiend; obey thy parents;
keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not 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
(30) note
curl'd my hair, wore gloves in my cap, serv'd 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 heav'n. One that slept in the
contriving lust, and wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd I deeply;
dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramour'd the
Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog
in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness,
-- 166 --
lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor
the rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to woman.
Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets,
thy pen from lender's books, and defie the foul fiend.
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: says
suum, mun, nonny, dolphin my boy, boy, Sessey: let
him trot by.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Thou wert better in thy grave, than to answer
with thy uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is
man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st
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 it self; unaccommodated man
is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou
art. Off, off, you lendings: come, unbutton here.
[Tearing off his cloaths.
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty
night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field, were
like an old letcher's heart, a small spark, and all the rest
on's body cold; look, here comes a walking fire.
Edg.
This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he begins at
curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the web
and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hair-lip;
mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of
the earth.
St. Withold footed thrice the Wold;(31) note
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold,
Bid her alight, and her troth plight,
And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee.
Kent.
How fares your Grace?
-- 167 --
Enter Glo'ster, with a torch.
Lear.
What's he?
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 tod-pole; the wall-newt, and the water-newt; 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 whipt from tything to tything, and stock-punish'd, and
imprison'd: who hath had three suits to his back, 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 year.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smolkin, peace, thou fiend!
Glo.
What, hath your Grace no better company?
Edg.
The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman, Modo he's
call'd, and Mahu.
Glo.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile,
That it doth hate what gets it.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
T' 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.
My good lord, take his offer,
Go into th' house.
Lear.
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban:
What is your study?
Edg.
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear.
Let us ask you one word in private.
Kent.
Importune him once more to go, my lord,
His Wits begin t' unsettle.
-- 168 --
Glo.
Can'st thou blame him?
[Storm still.
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'm almost mad my self; I had a son,
Now out-law'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,
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this?
I do beseech your Grace.
Lear.
O cry you mercy, Sir:
Noble Philosopher, your company.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
In fellow, into th' 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; along with us.
Lear.
Come, good Athenian.
Glo.
No words, no words, hush.
Edg.
Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still, fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
[Exeunt.
Scene 4
SCENE changes to Glo'ster's Castle.
Enter Cornwal, and Edmund.
Corn.
I will have revenge, ere I depart his house.
Edm.
How, my lord, I may be censur'd,
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 merit, set a-work by a reprovable badness in
himself.
-- 169 --
Edm.
How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent
to be just? this is the letter, which he spoke of;
which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages
of France. Oh heavens! that this treason were not;
or not I the detector.
Corn.
Go with me to the Dutchess.
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.
If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff
his suspicion more fully.—[aside.] 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 father in my love.
[Exeunt.
Scene 5
SCENE, a Chamber, in a Farm-house.
Enter Kent and Glo'ster.
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.
[Exit.
Kent.
All the power of his wits has given way to his
impatience: the gods reward your kindness!
Enter Lear, Edgar, and Fool.
Edg.
Fraterreto calls me, and tells me, Nero is an angler
in the lake of darkness: pray innocent, and beware
the foul fiend.(32) note
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a madman be
a gentleman, or a yeoman?
-- 170 --
Lear.
A King, a King.
Fool.
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 hizzing in upon 'em—
Edg.
The foul fiend bites my back.
Fool.
He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf,
the health of a horse, the love of a boy, or the oath of
a whore.
Lear.
It shall be done, I will arraign 'em strait.
Come sit thou here, most learned justicer;
Thou sapient Sir, sit here—now, ye she-foxes!—
Edg.
Look, where she stands and glares. Wantest thou eyes
At tryal, Madam?
Come o'er the Broom, Bessy, to me.
Fool.
Her Boat hath a Leak, and she must not speak
Why she dares not come over to thee.
Edg.
The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a
nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white
herrings. Croak not black angel, I have no food for
thee.
Kent.
How do you, Sir? stand you not so amaz'd;
Will you lye down, and rest upon the Cushions?
Lear.
I'll see their tryal first, bring me in the evidence.
Thou robed man of justice, take thy place;
And thou his yoke-fellow of equity,
Bench by his side. You are o'th' commission, sit you too.
Edg.
Let us deal justly.—
Sleepest, or wakest thou, jolly Shepherd?
Thy Sheep be in the Corn;
And for one Blast of thy minikin Mouth,
Thy Sheep shall take no Harm.
Purre, the Cat, is grey.
Lear.
Arraign her first, 'tis Gonerill. I here take my
Oath before this honourable Assembly, she kick'd the
poor King her Father.
Fool.
Come hither, Mistress, is your name Gonerill?
Lear.
She cannot deny it.
Fool.
Cry you mercy, I took you for a Joint-stool.
-- 171 --
Lear.
And here's another, whose warpt 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 mar my counterfeiting.
[Aside.
Lear.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart; see, they bark at me—
Edg.
Tom will throw his head at them; avaunt, you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite;
Mastiff, grey-hound, mungril grim,
Hound or spaniel, brache, or hym;
Or bobtail tike, or trundle-tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail:
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do, de, de, de: Sessey, come, march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns; poor Tom, thy horn is dry.
Lear.
Then let them anatomize. Regan—see what
breeds about her heart—Is there any cause in nature that
makes these hard hearts? You, Sir, I entertain for one
of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your
garments. You will say, they are Persian; but let them
be chang'd.
Re-enter Glo'ster.
Kent.
Now, good my lord, lye here and rest a while.
Lear.
Make no noise, make no noise, draw the curtains;
So, so, we'll go to supper i'th' morning.
Fool.
And I'll go to bed at noon.
Glo.
Come hither, friend; where is the King, my master?
Kent.
Here, Sir, but trouble him not; his wits are gone.
-- 172 --
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 towr'd Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct.
Kent.
Opprest Nature sleeps:(33) note
This Rest might yet have balm'd thy broken Senses,
Which, if Conveniency will not allow,
Stand in hard Cure. Come, help to bear thy Master;
Thou must not stay behind.
[To Fool.
Glost.
Come, come, away.
[Exeunt, bearing off the King.
Manet Edgar.
Edg.
When we our Betters see bearing our Woes,
We scarcely think our Miseries our Foes.
Who alone suffers, suffers most i'th' Mind;
Leaving free things, and happy Shows behind:
But then the Mind much Suff'rance does o'erskip,
When Grief hath Mates, and Bearing Fellowship.
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 Noises, and thyself bewray,
When false Opinion, whose wrong Thought defiles thee,
In thy just Proof repeals, and reconciles thee.
-- 173 --
What will, hap more to Night; safe scape the King!
Lurk, Lurk.—
[Exit Edgar.
Scene 6
SCENE changes to Glo'ster's Castle.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Edmund, and Servants.
Corn.
Post speedily to my lord your husband, shew
him this letter; the army of France is landed;
seek out the traitor Glo'ster.
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 traiterous father, are not fit for your beholding.
Advise the Duke, where you are going, to a
most festinate preparation; we are bound to the like.
Our Posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewel,
dear sister; farewel, my lord of Glo'ster.
Enter Steward.
How now? where's the King?
Stew.
My lord of Glo'ster hath convey'd him hence.
Some five or six and thirty of his Knights,
Hot Questrists after him, met him at gate;
Who with some other of the Lords dependants,
Are gone with him tow'rd Dover; where they boast
To have well-armed friends.
Corn.
Get horses for your mistress.
Gon.
Farewel, sweet lord, and sister.
[Exeunt Gon. and Edm.
Corn.
Edmund, farewel:—go seek the traitor Glo'ster;
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us:
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice; yet our pow'r
Shall do a court'sie to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not controul.
-- 174 --
Enter Glo'ster, brought in by Servants.
Who's there? the traitor?
Reg.
Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.
Corn.
Bind fast his corky arms.
Glo.
What mean your Graces? Good my Friends, consider.
You are my Guests: Do me no foul play, friends.
Corn.
Bind him, I say.
[They bind him.
Reg.
Hard, hard: O filthy traitor!
Glo.
Unmerciful lady as you are! I'm none.
Corn.
To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find—
Glo.
By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the beard.
Reg.
So white, and such a traitor?
Glo.
Naughty lady,
These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
Will quicken and accuse thee; I'm your Host;
With robber's hands, my hospitable favours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
Corn.
Come, Sir, what letters had you late from France?
Reg.
Be simple answerer, for we know the truth.
Corn.
And what confed'racy 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 to Dover?
Wast thou not charg'd, at peril—
Corn.
Wherefore to Dover? let him first answer that.
Glo.
I am ty'd to th' stake, and I must stand the course.
Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?
-- 175 --
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 phangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night indur'd, would have buoy'd up,
And quench'd the stelled fires:(34) note
Yet poor old heart, he help'd the heav'ns to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou should'st have said, “good porter, turn the key;
All cruels else subscrib'd; but I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.
Corn.
See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
Upon these eyes of thine, I'll set my foot.
[Glo'ster is held down, while Cornwall treads out one of his eyes.
Glo.
He that will think to live 'till he be old,
Give me some help.—O cruel! O you gods!
Reg.
One side will mock another; th' other too.
Corn.
If you see vengeance—
Ser.
Hold your hand, my lord:
I've serv'd you, ever since I was a child;
-- 176 --
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?
Corn.
My villain!
Serv.
Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger.
[Fight; in the Scuffle Cornwall is wounded.
Reg.
Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus?
[Kills him.
Ser.
Oh, I am slain—my lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him. Oh—
[Dies.
Corn.
Lest it see more, prevent it; out, vile gelly:
Where is thy lustre now?
[Treads out the other eye.
Glo.
All dark and comfortless—where's my son Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle 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 treasons 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.
[Ex. with Glo'ster.
How is't, my lord? how look you?
Corn.
I have receiv'd a hurt; follow me, lady.—
Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave
Upon the dunghil.—Regan, I bleed apace.
Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.
[Exit Corn. led by Regan.
1st. Serv.
I'll never care what Wickedness I do,(35) note
If this Man come to Good.
-- 177 --
2d. Serv.
If She live long,
And, in the End, meet the old course of Death,
Women will all turn Monsters.
1st. Serv.
Let's follow the old Earl, and get the Bedlam
To lead him where he would; his roguish Madness
Allows itself to any Thing.
2d. Serv.
Go thou; I'll fetch some Flax and whites of Eggs
T' apply to's bleeding Face. Now, Heaven help him!
[Exeunt severally.
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
