SCENE I.
An open COUNTRY.
Enter Edgar.
1 note
Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
The lowest, most dejected thing of Fortune,
-- 106 --
Stands still in esperance; lives not in fear.
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter Welcome then,
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace!
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts.
Enter Glo'ster, led by an old man.
But who comes here?
My father poorly led? 2 note
World, world, O world!
-- 107 --
But that thy strange Mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yield to age.
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.
You cannot see your way.
Glo.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes:
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen,
3 note
Our mean secures us; and our meer defects
Prove our commodities.—O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath;
Might I but live to see thee in my Touch,
I'd say, I had eyes again!
Old Man.
How now? Who's there?
Edg. [Aside.]
O Gods! 4 note
who is't can say, I'm at the worst?
-- 108 --
I'm 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 worst.
Old Man.
Fellow, where go'st?
Glo.
Is it a beggar-man?
Old Man.
Madman, and beggar too.
Glo.
He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I'th' 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've heard more since.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to th' Gods;
They kill us for their sport.6Q0205
Edg.
How should this be?
Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow,
5 noteAng'ring itself and others. [Aside.]—Bless thee, master,
Glo.
Is that the naked fellow?
Old Man.
Ay, my Lord.
Glo.
Get thee away. If, for my sake,
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain
I'th' way tow'rd Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some Covering for this naked soul,
Whom I'll intreat to lead me.
Old Man.
Alack, Sir, he is mad.
Glo.
'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid, 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.—6 noteI cannot daub it further.
[Aside.
-- 109 --
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 scar'd out of his good wits. Bless
thee, good man, from the foul fiend. Five fiends
have been in poor Tom at once; of Lust, as Obidicut;
Hobbididen, Prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing;
Mohu, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and
mowing; who since 7 note
possesses chamber-maids and waiting-women.
-- 110 --
Glo.
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues
Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched,
Makes thee the happier. Heavens deal so still!
8 noteLet the superfluous, and lust dieted man,
* note
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly:
So distribution should undo excess,
And each man have enough. Do'st thou know Dover?
Edg.
Ay, master.
Glo.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully on the confined deep;
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery, thou do'st 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.
-- 111 --
SCENE II.
The Duke of Albany's Palace.
Enter Gonerill and Edmund.
Gon.
Welcome, my Lord. I marvel, 1 noteour mild husband
Not met us on the way.
Enter Steward.
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 Glo'ster'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 effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us; you ere long shall hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;
[Giving a favour.
-- 112 --
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edm.
Yours in the ranks of death.
Gon.
My most dear Glo'ster!
[Exit Edmund.
Oh, the strange difference of man, and man!
To thee a woman's services are due,
My fool usurps my body.
Stew.
Madam, here comes my Lord.
Enter Albany.
Gon.
I have been worth the whistle.
Alb.
Oh Gonerill,
You are not worth the dust, which the rude wind
Blows in your face—2 noteI fear your disposition:
That Nature, which contemns its origine,
3 noteCannot be border'd certain in itself;
4 note
She that herself will sliver, and dis-branch,
5 note
From her maternal sap, perforce must wither,
-- 113 --
6 noteAnd come to deadly use.
Gon.
No more; 'tis foolish.
Alb.
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile,
Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
Tygers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Most barb'rous, most degenerate, have you madded.
Cou'd my good Brother suffer you to do it,
-- 114 --
7 note
A man, a Prince by him so benefited?
If that the heav'ns do not their visible Spirits
Send quickly down to tame the vile offences,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
8 noteLike monsters of the deep.
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'st,
Fools do these villains pity, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy Drum?
France spreads his Banners in our noiseless land,
With plumed helm thy slayer begins his threats;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cry'st,
“Alack! why does he so?”—
Alb.
See thyself, devil:
9 noteProper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman.
Gon.
O vain fool!
-- 115 --
Alb.
1 note
Thou changed, and self-cover'd thing, for shame,
Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
To let these hands obey my blood,
They're 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 Messenger.
Mes.
Oh, my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead,
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Glo'ster.
Alb.
Glo'ster's eyes!
Mes.
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 dead,
But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath pluck'd him after.
Alb.
This shews you are above,
You Justices, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can 'venge. But O poor Glo'ster!
Lost he his other eye?
Mes.
Both, both, my Lord.
—This letter, Madam, craves a speedy answer;
'Tis from your sister.
Gon. [Aside]
2 noteOne way, I like this well;
-- 116 --
But being widow, and my Glo'ster with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life. Another way,
The news is not so tart. I'll read, and answer.
[Exit.
Alb.
Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
Mes.
Come with my Lady hither.
Alb.
He's not here.
Mes.
No, my good Lord, I met him back again.
Alb.
Knows he the wickedness?
Mes.
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. [Aside.]
Glo'ster, I live
To thank thee for the love thou shew'dst the King,
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,
Tell me, what more thou know'st.
[Exeunt.
3 note
SCENE III.
DOVER.
Enter Kent, and a 4 noteGentleman.
Kent.
Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back
Know you the reason?
Gent.
Something he left imperfect in the State,
Which since his coming forth is thought of, which
-- 117 --
Imports the Kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his personal Return was most requir'd and necessary.
Kent.
Whom hath he left behind him General?
Gent.
The Mareschal of France, Monsiuer le Far.
Kent.
Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration
of grief?
Gent.
Ay, Sir, she took 'em, read'em 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, which, 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 strove
Which should express her goodliest; you have seen
Sun-shine and rain at once;—5 note
her Smiles and Tears
Were like a wetter May. Those happy smiles,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her Eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropt.—In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd,
If all could so become it.
Kent.
6 note
Made she no verbal question?
-- 118 --
Gent.
Yes, once, or twice, she heav'd the Name of Father
Pantingly forth, as if it prest her heart.
Cry'd, sisters! sisters!—Shame of Ladies! sisters!
Kent! Father! Sisters! What? i'th' storm? i'th' night?
Let Pity ne'er believe it!—There she shook
The holy water from her heav'nly Eyes;
7 note
And, Clamour moisten'd her, then away she started
To deal with grief alone.
Kent.
—It is Stars,
The Stars above us, govern our conditions:
Else 8 noteone self-mate and mate could not beget
Such diff'rent issues. Spoke you with her since?
Gent.
No.
Kent.
Was this before the King return'd?
Gent.
No, since.
Kent.
Well, Sir; the poor distressed Lear's in town,
Who sometimes, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about, and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter.
-- 119 --
Gent.
Why, good Sir?
Kent.
A sov'reign shame so bows him. His unkindness,
That strip'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters. 9 note
These things sting
His mind so venomously, that burning shame
Detains him from Cordelia.
Gent.
Alack, poor gentleman!
Kent.
Of Albany's and Cornwall's Pow'rs you heard not?
Gent.
1 note'Tis so they are a-foot.
Kent.
Well, Sir; I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause
Will in Concealment wrap me up awhile:
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A CAMP.
Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers.
Cor.
Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met ev'n now
As mad as the vext sea; singing aloud;
Crown'd with rank fumiterr, and furrow-weeds,
2 noteWith burdocks, hemlock, nettle, cuckoo-flowers,
-- 120 --
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn. A sent'ry send forth;
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye. What can man's Wisdom
In the restoring his bereaved sense?
He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phy.
There are 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 blest Secrets,
All you unpublish'd Virtues of the Earth,
Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediant
In the good man's distress. Seek, seek for him;
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life,
That wants 3 notethe means to lead it.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
News, Madam:
The British Pow'rs are marching hitherward.
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 * noteimportant Tears hath pitied.
4 note
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right.
Soon may I hear, and see him!
[Exeunt.
-- 121 --
SCENE V.
REGAN's PALACE.
Enter Regan, and Steward.
Reg.
But are my Brother's Powers set forth?
Stew.
Ay, Madam.
Reg.
Himself in person there?
Stew.
With much ado.
Your sister is the better soldier.
Reg.
Lord Edmund spake not with 5 noteyour Lady at home?
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 ign'rance, Glo'ster'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 dispatch
His nighted life; moreover, to descry
The strength o'th' enemy.
Stew.
I must needs after him, Madam, with my letter.
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—
* noteLet me unseal the letter.
-- 122 --
Stew.
Madam, I had rather—
Reg.
I know, your lady does not love her husband:
I'm sure of that; and, at her late being here,
She gave strange œiliads, and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know, you're of her bosom.
Stew.
I, Madam?
Reg.
I speak in understanding: you are; I know't:
Therefore, 6 noteI do advise you, take this note.
My Lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd,
And more convenient is he for my hand,
Than for your Lady's. 7 noteYou may gather more.
If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
And when your Mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her6Q0206. So farewel,
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 should shew
8 noteWhat party I do follow.
Reg.
Fare thee well.
9 noteSCENE VI.
The Country, near Dover.
Enter Glo'ster, and Edgar, as a Peasant.
Glo.
When shall I come to th' top of that same hill?
Edg.
You do climb up it now. Look, how we labour.
-- 123 --
Glo.
Methinks, the ground is even.
Edg.
Horrible steep.
Hark, do you hear the sea?
Glo.
No, truly.
Edg.
Why then your other senses grow imperfect
By your eye's anguish.
Glo.
So may it be, indeed.
Methinks, 1 notethy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
In better phrase and matter than thou didst.
Edg.
You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments,
Glo.
Sure, you're better spoken.
Edg.
Come on, Sir, here's the place. Stand still.—2 note
How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Shew scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down
Hangs one that gathers Samphire; dreadful trade!
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.
The fisher-men, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
-- 124 --
Diminish'd to 3 noteher cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumbred idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight,
Topple down headlong.
Glo.
Set me, where you stand.
Edg.
Give me your hand. You're now within a foot
Of th' extream verge; 4 note
for all below the moon
Would I not leap outright.
Glo.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, 's another purse, in it a Jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies, and Gods,
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off,
Bid me farewel, and let me hear thee going.
Edg.
Now fare ye well, good Sir.
[Seems to go.
Glo.
With all my heart.
Edg.
Why do I trifle thus with his despair?
'Tis done to cure it.
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.
Good Sir, farewel.
—And yet I know not how Conceit may rob
-- 125 --
The treasury of life, 5 note
when life itself
Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past.—Alive or dead?
Hoa, you, hear you, friend?—Sir! Sir!—Speak!
6 noteThus might he pass, indeed—yet he revives.
What are you, Sir?
Glo.
Away, and let me die.
Edg.
6Q0207Had'st thou been aught but Goss'mer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg; but thou dost breathe,
Hast heavy substance, bleed'st not; speak'st, art sound.
7 note
Ten masts at each make not the altitude,
Which thou hast perpendicularly fall'n.
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.
Glo.
But have I fall'n, or no?
Edg.
From the dread summit of this * notechalky bourn!
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.
-- 126 --
Edg.
This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o'th' 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 welk'd, and wav'd like the enridged sea.
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think, that 8 notethe clearest gods, who make them honours
Of men's impossibilities, 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.
* noteBear free and patient thoughts.
SCENE VII.
Enter Lear, mad.
But 9 note
who comes here?
The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus.
Lear.
No, they cannot touch me for coyning; I am
the King himself.
Edg.
O thou side-piercing sight!
-- 127 --
Lear.
Nature's above art in that respect. There's
your press-mony. 1 note
That fellow handles his bow like
a crow-keeper. Draw me a clothier's yard. 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 bills. 2 noteO, well
flown, Bird! i'th' clout, i'th' clout: hewgh.—3 noteGive
the word.
Edg.
Sweet marjoram.
Lear.
Pass.
Glo.
I know that voice.
Lear.
4 noteHa! Gonerill!—With a white Beard?—5 noteThey
flattered me like a dog, and told me, I had white
hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there. To
say ay, and no, to every thing that I said—Ay and no
too was no good divinity. When the rain came to
wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when
the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I
found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are
not men o' their words; they told me I was every
thing; 'tis a lye, I am not ague-proof.
-- 128 --
Glo.
The trick of that voice I do well remember:
Is't not the King?
Lear.
Ay, every inch a King.
When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life. What was the cause?
Adultery?
Thou shalt not die; die for adultery? No,
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded flie
Does lecher in my sight.
Let copulation thrive, for Glo'ster's bastard son
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't, luxury, pell mell; for I lack soldiers.
Behold yond simpering Dame,
6 note
Whose face between her forks presages snow;
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name.
7 noteThe fitchew, 8 note
nor the soyled horse, goes to't
With a more riotous appetite;
Down from the waiste they're centaurs,
Though women all above;
But to the girdle do the Gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiend's; there's hell, there's darkness,
There is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption. Fy, fy, fy; pah, pah;
Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary,
To sweeten my imagination! there's mony for thee.
Glo.
O, let me kiss that hand.
Lear.
Let me wipe it first, it smells of mortality.
Glo.
O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought. Do'st thou know me?
Lear.
I remember thine eyes well enough: dost
-- 129 --
thou squiny at me? 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 this case of eyes?
Lear.
Oh, ho, are you there with me? no eyes in
your head, nor no mony 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 yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark
in thine ear. Change places, and handy-dandy, 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. There
thou might'st behold the great image of authority; a
dog's obey'd in office.—
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand:
Why dost thou lash that whore? strip thy own back;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind,
For which thou whip'st her. Th' usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tatter'd cloaths small vices do appear;
9 noteRobes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
-- 130 --
None does offend, none, I say, none; 1 note
I'll able 'em
Take that of me, my friend, who have the pow'r
To seal th' 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 mixt.
Reason in madness!
Lear.
If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough, thy name is Glo'ster.
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither;
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
We wawle and cry. I will preach to thee. Mark—
Glo.
Alack, alack the day!
Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools.—2 note
This a good block!—
It were a delicate stratagem to shoe
A troop of horse with Felt; I'll put't in proof;
And when I've stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
-- 131 --
SCENE VIII.
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 fortune. Use me well,
You shall have ransome. Let me have surgeons,
I am cut to th' brains.
Gent.
You shall have any thing.
Lear.
No seconds? all myself?
Why, this would make a man, 3 notea man of salt;
To use his eyes for garden-water-pots,
And laying autumn's dust. I will die bravely,
Like a smug 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.
Lear.
* noteThen there's life in't. Come, an' you get it,
You shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.
[Exit.
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. † note
The main descry
Stands on the hourly thought.
-- 132 --
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 spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!
Edg.
Well pray you, father.
Glo.
Now, good Sir, what are you?
Edg.
A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows,
4 note
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
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 heav'n
To boot, and boot!—
SCENE IX.
Enter Steward.
Stew.
A proclaim'd prize! most happy!
—That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh,
To raise my fortunes. Old unhappy traitor,
5 noteBriefly thyself remember. The sword is out,
That must destroy thee.
Glo.
Let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to it.
[Edgar opposes.
Stew.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence,
-- 133 --
Lest that th' 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 dy'st.
Edg.
Good gentleman, go your gaite, and let poor
volk pass. And 'chud 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, 6 noteche
vor'ye, or ise try whether your costard or my bat be
the harder; chill be plain with you.
Stew.
Out, dunghill!
Edg.
Chill pick your teeth, Zir. Come, no matter
vor your foyns.
[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 Glo'ster; seek him out
Upon the English party. Oh, 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?
Edg.
Sit you down, father; rest you.
Let's see these pockets; the letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends. He's dead; I'm only sorry,
He had no other death's-man. Let us see—
By your leave, gentle wax and manners. Blame us not;
7 note
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts;
Their papers are more lawful.
-- 134 --
Reads the Letter.
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 offer'd. 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) affectionate Servant,
Gonerill.
8 noteOh, undistinguish'd space of woman's Will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life,
And the exchange my brother. Here, i'th' sands
9 noteThee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murd'rous lechers; and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of 1 notethe death practis'd Duke; for him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.
Glo.
The King is mad; how stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, 2 noteand have ingenious Feeling
-- 135 --
Of my huge sorrows; better I were distract,
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
[Drum afar off.
And woes, by wrong imagination, lose
The knowledge of themselves.
Edg.
Give me your hand.
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, further. I'll bestow you with a friend.
[Exeunt.
SCENE X.
Changes to a Chamber.
Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Physician.
Cor.
O, thou good Kent, how shall I live and work
To match thy Goodness? life will be too short,
And 3 noteev'ry measure fail me.
Kent.
To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth,
Nor more, nor clipt, but so.
Cor.
Be better suited,
These weeds are memories of those worser hours;
I pr'ythee, put them off.
Kent.
Pardon, dear Madam,
Yet to be known, 4 note
shortens my made intent;
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.
-- 136 --
Phys.
Madam, sleeps still.
Cor.
O you kind Gods!
Cure this great breach in his abused nature;
Th' untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father.
Phys.
Please your Majesty,
That we may wake the king, he hath slept long?
Cor.
Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I'th' sway of your own will. Is he array'd?
Enter Lear in a chair, carried by Servants.
Phys.
Ay, Madam; in the heaviness of sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.
Be by, good Madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.
Cor.
O my dear father! 5 note
Restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
[Kisses him.
Kent.
Kind and dearest Princess!
Cor.
Had you not been their Father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face,
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep, dread-bolted Thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble Stroke
Of quick, cross Lightning? 6 note
To watch, poor Perdu,
-- 137 --
With this thin Helm? My very Enemy's Dog,
Though he had bit me, shou'd have stood that Night
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,
7 note
Had not concluded all.—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'th' 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?
8 noteI'm mightily abus'd. 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,
And hold your hand in benediction o'er me.
No, Sir, you must not kneel.
Lear.
Pray, do not mock me;
-- 138 --
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly,
9 note
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks, I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful; for I'm mainly ignorant,
What place this is; and all the skill I have,
Remembers not these garments; nay, 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.
Cor.
And so I am; I am.—
Lear.
Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray you, 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'd in him:—1 noteAnd, yet 'twere danger
2 noteTo make him even o'er the Time, h'as lost.
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more,
'Till further settling.
Cor.
Will't please your Highness walk?
Lear.
You must bear with me;
Pray you now, forget and forgive.
I am old and foolish.
[Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician and Attendants.
-- 139 --
Manent Kent and Gentleman.
Gent.
3 noteHolds it true, Sir, 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 Glo'ster.
Gent.
They say, Edgar, his banisht Son, is with the
Earl of Kent in Germany.
Kent.
Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about;
the Powers of the Kingdom approach apace.
Gent.
The Arbitrement is like to be bloody.—
Fare you well, Sir.
[Exit Gent.
Kent.
My Point and Period will be throughly wrought,
Or well, or ill, as this day's Battle's fought.
[Exit Kent.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
