Costumes.
Lear.—Long shirt of yellow stuff or merino, with wide sleeves,
reaching to the feet, and trimmed with dark fur, circular mantle of
crimson stuff, fastened at the throat with a jewelled brooch, a gold
and jewelled coronet crown over a caul cap of crimson stuff, a long
gilt staff, buskins, white hair and beard. Second Dress: The same
without the robe. Third Dress: Plain dark shirt to the feet, with
wide sleeves.
France.—Long crimson shirt, purple circular mantle, long hair,
buskins, and coronet crown of gold.
Albany.—Plaid shirt of green and blue squares, buskins with
thongs of leather nearly to the knee, flesh legs, open breastplate of
cross pieces of brass, brazen winged helmet, and sword. Second
Dress: Purple mantle trimmed with white fur, and coronet of gold.
Third Dress: Helmet, coat of mail formed of brass plates, leather
shield with bosses of brass, fair hair, moustache, and beard.
Cornwall.—Loose hood and neck covering of tanned leather,
shirt of mail formed of steel plates, leather gauntlets, buskins with
leather thongs, flesh legs, circlet of twisted bullion, long hair and
beard, and a sword. Second Dress: Coronet crown, and crimson
robe, fastened on throat with gold brooch.
Gloster.—Long black cloth shirt with hood, reaching to the
middle of the leg, buskins, fleshings, neck and shoulder piece of
steel plates, narrow cord of gold round the head, belt of leather
round the waist and sword, dark hair and long beard, bald crown.
Second Dress: The same without sword or armour.
Edgar.—Short full parti-coloured shirt, buskins, belt and
sword, small moustache and long hair, confined by a fillet. Second
Dress: A dark mantle. Third Dress: Suit of fleshings, shirt
and wrapper of blankets, tied with cord, hair dishevelled, beard
and moustaches grown, a straw coronet, cow's horn, old wallet of
dark leather, and staff. Fourth Dress: Gray shirt, leather leggings,
pointed felt hat, and mantle. Fifth Dress: Coat of mail of steel
plates sewed on leather, gauntlets of same, and conical steel
helmet with nasal guard.
Kent.—Parti-coloured shirt, with full sleeves, mantle of green
stuff fastened at throat, buskins; gold circlet for the head. Second
Dress: Leather shirt, dark cloth neck covering with hood; fleshings,
sandals. Third: Shirt of mail and helmet.
Edmund.—Dark blue merino shirt, with full sleeves, fleshings
and buskins, waist belt and sword. Second Dress: Parti-coloured
shirt, gold circlet for the head. Third Dress: Coat of mail of
brass plates, and conical brass helmet.
Curan and Nobles.—Shirts of various colours, &c.
Oswald.—Light blue shirt, sandals, conical cap, waist belt, side
pouch of leather, sword, long light hair, and beard.
-- 4 --
Physician.—Long dark gown, with hood, and wide sleeves.
Herald.—White shirt, with wide sleeves, white fillet for the
hair, and white wand.
Fool.—A shirt (rather long) with close sleeves of red and yellow
stuff, half the front and back of each colour, a cap of the same,
with large red comb made like the comb of a cock, fleshings, and
leather leggings fastened with red and yellow gaiters.
Officers.—Some with helmets and half mail, swords, spears,
and shields.
Captain.—Tanned leather helmet and cuirass, with iron bosses.
Soldiers.—Conical caps of leather, some with leather shirts,
some with iron plates over the shoulders and across the breasts,
long hair and hanging moustaches, spears and shields, slings, bows
and arrows.
Cordelia.—White merino double dress, gold fillet, and hair
flowing down the back. Second Dress: Crimson mantle fastened
at throat with jewel, small coronet crown. Third: Plain white
dress, white face, and livid mark round the throat.
Regan. Scarlet tunic over white skirt and sleeves, gold coronet,
hair hanging down the back.
Goneril.—Purple tunic over yellow skirt and sleeves, gold
coronet, and long hair worn flowing behind, large dark veil may
be worn after her second scene.
The dresses specified will perhaps be found the most desirable
that can readily be adopted; it is impossible to present the
characters in the aspect they would have assumed at the time
“King Leir” is supposed to have reigned, (800 years before
Christ) therefore, a compromise between reality and necessity is
unavoidable.
The German coloured Costumes for King Lear (which may be
had of the publisher) will be useful and suggestive.—Frank
Howard's Spirits of Shakespeare's Plays is also excellent for the
appointments and grouping.
T. H. L.
Glossary
Glossary
OF WORDS, EITHER OBSOLETE, VARYING FROM THEIR COMMON ACCEPTATION, OR REQUIRING EXPLANATION.
“Bedlam beggars.”—“Before the civil warres I remember Tom a
Bedlams went about begging. They had been such as had
been in Bedlam and come to some degree of soberness.”—
Aubrey's MSS. “He swears he hath been in Bedlam, and
will talk frantickly of purpose, you see pinnes stuck in sundry
places of his naked flesh, especially in his armes, which paine
he gladly puts himselfe to, only to make you believe he is out
-- 5 --
of his wits. He calls himselfe by the name of poore Tom,
and, coming near anybody, cries out Poore Tom is a-cold.”—
Dekker's Bellman of London, 1640.
“Bewray his practise.”—That is, reveal and undo his contrivances.“Blank of thine eye.”—The blank is the mark at which aim is taken.“Bless thy five wits.”—
“Forsoth, syr, herynge, seynge, and smellynge,
The remenaunte tastynge, and felynge,
These ben the v wittes bodely.”— The Worlde and the Childe.“Cadent.”—Falling.“Camelot.”—In Somersetshire, near Camelot, are large moors where
great quantities of geese are bred.“Century.”—Company of a hundred.“Coxcomb.”—A fool's cap, with the crest shaped like a cock's comb.“Cruel garters.”—A quibble on crewell, that is, worsted.“Exhibition.”—Show only.“Flaws.”—Anciently signified fragments as well as mere cracks.“Fleshment.”—A soldier is said to flesh his maiden sword when he
first uses it in combat.“Frontlet.”—A covering for the brow—a sort of demi-veil.“Gasted.”—Frightened.“Hysterica passio.”—An illness; also called the “mother,” which
in Shakespeare's time was not thought peculiar to women.“Interess'd.”—United, coalesced (a Gallicism).“Knives under his pillow,” &c.—This, with the names of the
spirits, is taken from Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures,
1603.“Lend less than thou owest.”—To owe is to possess.“Lipsbury pinfold.”—A saying of the time—pinfold is a pound for
strayed animals.“Meiny.”—Retinue, from the French, meinie.“My poor fool is hang'd.”—Fool was a term of endearment in the
poet's time as well as the name of a jester—in this instance
Lear most probably alludes to his daughter's death.“Nether-stocks.”—The old word for stockings.“Pawn.”—Common soldier at chess.“Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill.”—
See Gammer Gurton's Garland.
“Pillycock, Pillycock sat on a hill,
If he's not gone, he sits there still.”“Poise.”—Weight or balance.“Rats and mice and such small deer.”—From the old metrical
romance of Sir Bevis.
“Rattes and myce and such smal dere
Was his meate that seven yeare.”“Remotion.”—Retirement.“Renege.”—To equivocate.“Sea Monster.”—The Hippopotamus; the hieroglyphical symbol of
impiety and ingratitude.“Setta.”—Cease, be quiet.“Slaves your ordinance.”—To make it subservient, instead of
obeying it.
-- 6 --
“Sound trumpet.”—“The appellant and his procurator first come to
the gate. The constable and marshall demand by voice of
herald, what he is and why he comes so arrayed.”—Seldon's Duello.“Subscribed his power.”—Given up.“Tender hefted.”—More delicate in make, and in use.“Three suited”—“One trunk-inheriting”—“worsted stocking knave”—“barber-monger”—“neat slave.”—Epithets of reproach and
contempt current in the days of Shakespeare; their peculiar
application cannot be determined with precision now.—
See the Variorum Shakespeare, 1793, vol. 14.“To the warm sun.”—
“In your running from him to me, ye runne
Out of God's blessing into the warme sun.”— Heywood's Dialogues.“Treachers.”—Traitors.“Upon the gad.”—With thoughtless speed; like the gadfly, which
lights at carpice, and departs quickly.“Validity.”—Value.
KING LEAR. [Note:
ACT I.Scene I.—A Room of State in King Lear's Palace; arch in C., throne, L.
Enter Kent and Gloster, C. from L., followed by Edmund, who remains up.
Kent.
I thought, the king had more affected the Duke
of Albany than Cornwall.
Gloster.
It did always seem so to us: but now, in the
division of the kingdoms, it appears not which of the
dukes he values most.
Kent. (L.)
Is not this your son, my lord?
Gloster.
His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge:
I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
abrazed to it.
(Edmund advances, R.)
Kent.
I cannot conceive you.
Gloster.
Sir, this young fellow's mother could: 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 proper.
Gloster.
But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some
year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:
though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world
before he was sent for. Do you know this noble gentleman,
Edmund?
Edmund.
No, my lord.
Gloster.
My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter
as my honourable friend.
Edmund.
My services to your lordship.
Kent.
I must love you, and sue to know you better
Edmund.
Sir, I shall study deserving.
-- 8 --
Gloster.
He hath been out nine years, and away he
shall again:—the king is coming.
(trumpets sound within)They retire, L.Order of Procession, which enters C. from L.
Two Bannermen.
Twelve Soldiers, with spears.
Two Banners.
Twelve Soldiers, with shields.
Twenty Knights.
Physician—Officer, with map—Herald, with crown—
Six Ladies.
Cordelia.
Cornwall and Regan.
Albany and Goneril.
Lear.
Lords.
Attendants.
Lear.
Attend the lords of France and Burgundy,
Gloster.
Gloster.
I shall, my liege.
Exeunt Gloster and Edmund, C. and L.; Lear leans on Physician and ascends throne, L. C.
[unresolved image link]
Lear.
Mean-time we shall express our darker purpose.
Give me the map there. (map is unrolled to him by the Officer, who kneels) Know that we have divided,
In three, our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age;
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburden'd crawl toward death.—Our son of Cornwall
-- 9 --
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish,
Our daughter's several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now.
The princes, 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 now 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 nature doth with merit challenge.—Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.
Gon. (approaches Lear)
Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter,
Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor;
As much as child e're lov'd, or father found;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
Cordelia.
What shall Cordelia do? Love and be silent. (aside)
Lear. (pointing to map)
Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issues
Be this perpetual.
(Goneril returns to her place)
What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? Speak.
Regan. (advances to Lear)
I am made of that self metal as my sister,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find, she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short, that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys
Which the most precious square of sense possesses,
And find, I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness' love
-- 10 --
Cordelia.
Then, poor Cordelia!
And yet not so; since, I am sure my love's
More richer than my tongue. (aside)
Lear.
To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that conferred on Goneril. (retires to Cornwall)
Now, our joy, (rises and approaches Cordelia)
Although the last, not least; to whose young love
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Strive to be interess'd; what can you say, to draw
A third more opulent than your sister's? Speak.
Cordelia.
Nothing, my lord.
Lear.
Nothing?
Cordelia.
Nothing.
Lear.
Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.
Cordelia.
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more, nor less.
Lear.
How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech a little,
Lest you may mar your fortunes.
Cordelia.
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 honor you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you, all? Haply, when I shall wed,
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 all.
Lear.
But goes this with thy heart?
Cordelia.
Ay, my good lord.
Lear.
So young, and so untender?
Cordelia.
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 Hecate, and the night;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
-- 11 --
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee, from this, for ever.
Kent. (L.)
Good my liege.—
Lear.
Peace, Kent!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath:
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.—Hence, and avoid my sight!—
(to Cordelia)
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father's heart from her!—Call France;
Who stirs? Call Burgundy.
A Knight goes quickly off, C. and L.
Cornwall and Albany,
Cornwall and Albany cross from R. to L. quickly, behind Lear.
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:
(pointing to map)
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
(to Dukes)
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 retain
The name, and all th' additions to a king;
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part between you. (takes the crown from Herald, R. C, the Dukes
receive it kneeling, and return it to the Herald,
who crosses behind and receives it again from them, L.)
Kent. (kneels, L.)
Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honor'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers—
Lear.
The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.
Kent. (rises)
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 speak,
-- 12 --
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honors 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;
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness.
Lear.
Kent, on thy life, no more.
Kent.
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive.
Lear.
Out of my sight!
Kent.
See better, Lear.
Lear.
Now, by Apollo,—
Kent.
Now, by Apollo, king,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
Lear.
O, vassal! miscreant! (seizing his sword from Officer up C.)
Alb. and Corn. (interposing)
Dear sir, forbear.
Kent.
Do;
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift;
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 has sought to make us break our vow,
(Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd pride,
To come betwixt our sentence and our power;
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,)
Take thy reward:—If on the tenth day following
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death: Away! by Jupiter,
This shall not be revok'd. (goes up with Albany and Cornwall)
Kent.
Fare thee well, king: since thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.—
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
(to Cordelia)
That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said!—
-- 13 --
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
(to Regan and Goneril)
That good effects may spring from words of love.—
Re-enter Gloster; with Burgundy, France, and Attendants, C. from L., they come down, L.
[unresolved image link]
Kent.
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
He'll shape his old course in a country new. Exit, R. U. E.
Gloster.
Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
Lear.
My lord of Burgundy,
We first address towards you, who with this king
Hath rivall'd for our daughter; sir, there she stands;
If aught with that little, seeming 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.
Burgundy.
Pardon me, royal sir;
Election makes not up on such conditions.
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, that even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time,
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favor!
Cordelia. (kneeling to Lear)
I yet beseech your majesty,
(If for I want that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
-- 14 --
I'll do't before I speak, that you make known
It is no vicious blot, nor other foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonor'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favor:
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
Had'st not been born, than not to have pleas'd me better.
France.
Is it but this? a tardiness in nature,
Which often leaves the history unspoke
That it intends to do?—(crosses) Fairest Cordelia,
Thou art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despised,
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away. (raises her)
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy,
Shall buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.—
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here, 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:—(Cordelia kneels, and takes hold of his mantle) Therefore be gone,
Without our grace, our love, our bension.
Come, noble Burgundy. (flourish)Banners.Soldiers with shields.
Knights.
Lear and Burgundy.
Albany, Cornwall.
Gloster.
Physician, Herald, Officer.
Knights.
Soldiers with spears.
Attendants.
Exeunt, C. and L.
-- 15 --
France.
Bid farewell to your sisters.
Cordel.
The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
(to Regan and Goneril)
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. Love well our father:
To your professed bosoms I commit him:
But yet, alas! stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place
So, farewell to you both.
*Goneril.
Prescribe not us our duty.
*Regan.
Let your study
*Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you
*At fortune's alms: you have obedience scanted,
*And well art worth the want that you have wanted.
*Cordelia.
Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides;
*Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
*Well may you prosper. Exeunt France and Cordelia, C. and R.—Regan, Goneril, and Ladies C. and L.
Scene II.—A Hall in the Earl of Gloster's Castle. (1st grooves).Enter Edmund, with a letter, L. C.
Edmund.
Thou, nature, art my goddess: to thy law
My services are bound: Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom; and permit
The courtesy of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? 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 lustly stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality.
Than doth within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Well then, legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,
-- 16 --
As to the legitimate: Fine word,—legitimate!
(taking letter from pocket)
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:—
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
(retires to R.)
Enter Gloster, L.
Gloster.
Kent banish'd thus! And France in choler parted!
And the king gone to-night! subscrib'd his power!
Confined to exhibition! All this done
Upon the gad!—Edmund! How now; what news?
Edmund.
So please your lordship, none.
(putting up the letter in seeming haste and confusion)
Gloster.
Why so earnestly seek you to put up that
letter?
Edmund.
I know no news, my lord.
Gloster.
What paper were you reading?
Edmund.
Nothing, my lord.
Gloster.
No! what needed then that terrible despatch
of it into your pocket? Let's see.
Edmund.
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 overlooking.
Gloster.
Give me the letter, sir.
Edmund.
I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The
contents, as I in part understand them, are to blame.
Gloster.
Let's see, let's see.
Edmund.
I hope, for my brother's justification, he
wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.
Gloster. (reads)
“This policy, and reverence of age,makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps ourfortunes from us, till our oldness cannot relish them. I beginto find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of agedtyranny; who sways, not as it hath power, but as it issuffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. Ifour father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoyhalf his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your
-- 17 --
brother, Edgar.”—Humph—Conspiracy!—“Sleep till Iwaked 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?
Edmund.
It was not brought me, my lord; there's the
cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the casement of
my closet.
Gloster.
You know the character to be your brother's?
Edmund.
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.
Gloster.
It is his?
Edmund.
It is his hand, my lord; but I hope, his
heart is not in the contents.
*Gloster.
Hath he never heretofore sounded you in
this business?*
*Edmund.
Never, my lord: but I have often heard him
maintain it to be fit, that sons at perfect age, and fathers
declined, the father should be a ward to the son, and the
son manage his revenue.*
Gloster.
O villain, villain! *His very opinion in the
letter.* Unnatural villain!—Go, sirrah, seek him; I'll
apprehend him:—abominable villain!—Where is he?
Edmund.
If your honor 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.
Gloster.
To his father, that so tenderly and entirely
loves him.—Heaven and earth!—Edmund, seek him out;
wind me into him, I pray you; frame the business after
your own wisdom.
Edmund.
I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the
business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.
Gloster.
These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend
no good to us. Love cools, friendship falls off,
brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord;
in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked between son
and father. *This villain 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,
-- 18 --
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, R.
Edmund.
This is the excellent foppery of the world!
that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our
own behaviour,) we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the
moon, and the stars; as if we were villains by necessity;
fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and
treachers, 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 licentious man, to lay
his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!—Tut, I
should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in
the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar—and
pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy:
My cue is villainously melancholy, with a sigh like Tom
o'Bedlam.—O, these eclipses do portend these divisions!
Fa, sol, la, mi.
Enter Edgar, L.
Edgar.
How now, brother Edmund? What serious
contemplation are you in?
Edmund.
I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
this other day, what should follow these eclipses.
Edgar.
How long have you been a sectary astronomer?
Edmund.
Come, come; when saw you my father last?
Edgar.
The night gone by.
Edmund.
Spake you with him?
Edgar.
Ay, two hours together.
Edmund.
Parted you in good terms? Found you no
displeasure in him, by word, or countenance?
Edgar.
None at all.
Edmund.
Bethink yourself, wherein you may have
offended him; and at my entreaty, forbear his presence,
till some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure,
which at this instant so rageth in him, that with
the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.
Edgar.
Some villain hath done me wrong.
-- 19 --
Edmund.
That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent
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.—(gives a key to Edgar) If you do
stir abroad, go armed.
Edgar.
Armed, brother?
Edmund.
Brother, I advise you to the best; 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.
Edgar.
Shall I hear from you anon?
Edmund.
I do serve you in this business.—
Exit Edgar, L.
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, R.Scene III.—The Outer Court or Garden in the Duke of Albany's Palace—(3rd grooves.)Enter Goneril and Oswald her Steward, and two Ladies, L.
Goneril.
Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding
of his fool?
Oswald.
Ay, madam.
Goneril.
By day and night! he wrongs me:
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.
Oswald.
He's coming, madam; I hear him. (horns within, L.)
Goneril.
Put on what weary negligence you please,
-- 20 --
You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question:
If he dislike it, let him to my sister.
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-rul'd. Idle old man,
That still would manage those authorities,
That he hath given away.
Remember what I have said.
Oswald.
Well, madam. Exeunt Goneril, Ladies, and Oswald, R. 2 E.
Enter Kent, disguised, L. 2. E.
Kent.
Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
(So may it come!) thy master, whom thou lov'st,
Shall find thee full of labours. Horns within. Enter Lear, Knights, Physician, and
Attendants, L. Knights with game go over to R. 2 E.,
other Knights remain, L. Horns stop.
Lear.
Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go, get it ready.
(Exit an Attendant, R.) How now, what art thou?
Kent. (R.)
A man, sir.
Lear. (C.)
What dost thou profess? what would'st 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 little;
to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to
eat no fish.
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 would'st thou?
Kent.
Service.
Lear.
Who would'st 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.
-- 21 --
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.
Lear.
Thy name?
Kent.
Caius!
Lear.
Follow me; thou shalt serve me: (gives him
spear)—Dinner, ho, dinner.—Where's my knave? my fool?
Go you, and call my fool hither.
Enter Oswald, R. 2 E., singing; he crosses, L.
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?
Oswald.
So please you.
Exit, L.
Lear.
What says the fellow there? Call the clodpole
back. (Kent and first Knight exit, L.—Physician crosses
behind to R.) Where's my fool, ho?—I think the world's
asleep.—(Knight returns, L.) How now? where's that mongrel?
Knight.
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 answer'd 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 entertain'd with
that ceremonious affection as you were wont.
Lear.
Ha! sayest thou so? thou but remember'st me
of mine own conception: 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 away.
Lear.
No more of that; I have noted it well.—Go you,
and tell my daughter I would speak with her.
-- 22 --
Go you, call hither my fool.—
Exit Physician, R.; Knight, L.
Re-enter Kent, pulling in Oswald, L.
O, you sir, you sir, come you hither. Who am I, sir?
Oswald.
My lady's father.
Lear.
My lady's father! my lord's knave: you whoreson
dog! you slave! you cur!
Oswald.
I am none of this, my lord; I beseech you,
pardon me.
Lear.
Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
(striking him and crossing to L.)
Oswald.
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.
If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry.
Away, away!
(pushes Oswald out, R. 2 E.)
Lear.
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's
earnest of thy service.
(giving Kent money)
Enter Fool, followed by the Knight, L. 2 E.
Fool. (C.)
Let me hire him too;—Here's my coxcomb.
(offering Kent his cap)
Lear. (L.)
How now, my pretty knave? how dost thou?
Fool.
Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
Kent. (R.)
Why, Fool?
Fool.
Why? For taking one's part that's out of
favor: Nay, an' thou can'st not smile as the wind sits,
thou'lt catch cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb:
Why, this fellow has banished two of his daughters, and
did the third a blessing against his will; if thou follow
him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.—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 owest,
-- 23 --
Learn more than thou trowest,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more,
Than two tens to a score.
Lear.
This is nothing, Fool.
Fool.
Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd 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 (to Kent) tell him, so much the rent of
his land comes to; he will not believe a fool.
Lear.
A bitter fool!
Fool.
Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between
a bitter fool and a sweet fool?
Lear.
No, lad; teach me.
Fool.
That lord, that counsell'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,—
Do thou 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.
(crossing, L.)
Kent.
This is not altogether fool, my lord.
Fool.
No, 'faith, lords and great men will not let me;
and ladies too, they will not let me 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. Thou hadst
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.
(sings)
Fools had ne'er less grace in a year,
For wise men are grown foppish;
And know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.
-- 24 --
Lear.
When were you wont to be so full of songs,
sirrah?
Fool.
I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest
thy daughters, thy mothers, for when thou gavest them
the rod for thine own back.
(singing)
Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy
fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie.
Lear.
Ah! you lie, sirrah! we'll have you whipp'd.
Fool.
I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters are;
they'll have me whipp'd for speaking true, thou'lt have
me whipp'd for lying; and sometimes I am whipp'd 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.
Enter Goneril frowning, and Physician, R. 2 E.
Lear.
How now, daughter? what makes that frontlet on?
Methinks, you are too much of late i' the frown.
Fool.
Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou hadst no
need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O without
a figure. I am better than thou art now: I am a fool,
thou art nothing. Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue;
so your face (to Goneril) bids me, though you say nothing.
Mum, mum.
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some.—
Goneril.
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 on
By your allowance; which, if you should, the fault
-- 25 --
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,
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 darkling. (Kent takes Fool up the stage)
Lear.
Are you our daughter?
Goneril.
Come, sir,
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 you
From what you rightly are.
Lear.
Does any here know me? Why this is not Lear:
does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
Who is it that can tell me who I am? I would learn that;
for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason,
I should be false persuaded I had daughters. Your name,
fair gentlewoman?
Goneril.
This admiration is much o' the savor
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
To understand my purposes aright:
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise;
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shows more like a riotous inn, tavern, or brothel,
Then a grac'd palace. 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 train; take half away,
And see that the remainder, that shall still depend
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.
-- 26 --
Enter Albany, R.
Goneril.
You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters.
Lear.
Woe, that too late repents,—O, sir, are you come?
Is it your will? (to Albany) Speak, sir,—(to his Knights) Prepare my horses.
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster!
Alb. (R.)
Pray, sir, be patient.
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 did'st thou in Cordelia show!
Which, like an engine, 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 people.
Alb. (crosses, C.)
Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this?
Goneril. (R. C.)
Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
But let his disposition have that scope
That dotage gives it.
Lear.
What! fifty of my fellows 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)
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them.—Blasts and fogs, upon thee!
Th' untented woundings 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 lose,
To temper clay.
-- 27 --
Ha! let it be so:—I have another 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.
Goneril.
Do you mark that, my lord?
Alb.
My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath mov'd you.
Lear.
It may be so, my lord.—
(kneels)
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 body never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her!
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child!—Away! away! Kent and Physician bearing Lear off, L.—Knights and Fool grouped, L. C.—Goneril and Albany, R.
END OF ACT I.ACT II.Scene I.—A Court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloster, turret door, R.; lights down.
Enter Edmund, L., and Curan, R., meeting.
Edmund.
Save thee, Curan.
Curan.
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.
Edmund.
How comes that?
-- 28 --
Curan.
Nay, I know not: you have heard of the news
abroad? I mean the whispered ones?
Edmund.
Not I; pray you what are they?
Curan.
Have you heard of no likely wars toward,
'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Edmund.
Not a word.
Curan.
You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir.
Exit, L.
Edmund.
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 question,
Which I must act:—Briefness, and fortune, work!—
(knocks at door, R.)
Brother, a word!—descend!—Brother, I say!
Enter Edgar, door, R. 2. E.
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 haste,
And Regan with him; have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
Advise yourself.
Edgar.
I am sure on't, not a word.
Edmund.
I hear my father coming,—(goes, L.) Pardon me:
In cunning, I must draw my sword upon you:—
Draw—seem to defend yourself: (speaks loudly) Now quit you well.
Yield: come before my father;—Light, ho, here!—
Fly, brother;—Torches! torches!—So farewell.—
Exit Edgar, R.
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 sport.—Father! father!
Stop, stop! No help? Enter Gloster and Servants, with torches, L.
Gloster.
Now, Edmund, where's the villain?
Edmund.
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
-- 29 --
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand his auspicious mistress:—
Gloster.
But where is he?
Edmund.
Look, sir, I bleed.
Gloster.
Where is the villain, Edmund?
Edmund.
Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could—
Gloster.
Pursue him, ho!—Go after.
Exit Servants, R.
By no means,—what?
Edmund.
Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;—
But that I told him, the revenging gods
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
Spoke, with how manifest 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 gasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
Gloster.
Let him fly far;
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
The noble duke, my master, comes to-night:
By his authority I will proclaim it,
That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
He, that conceals him, death.
(trumpets within)
Hark, the duke's trumpets!
All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape;
The duke must grant me that: and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means
To make thee capable. Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants from L. Trumpets cease.
Corn.
How now, my noble friend? since I came hither,
I have heard strange news.
-- 30 --
Regan.
What, did my father's godson seek your life?
He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar?
Gloster.
O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!
Regan.
Was he not companion with the riotous knights
That tend upon my father?
Edmund. (R.)
Yes, madam, he was of that consort.
Regan.
No, marvel then, though he were ill affected:
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 home,
I'll not be there.
Cornwall.
Nor I, assure thee, Regan.—
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
A child-like office.
Edmund.
'Twas my duty, sir.
Gloster.
He did bewray his practice; and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Corn.
Is he pursued?
Gloster.
Ay, my good lord, he is.
Corn.
If he be taken, he shall never more
Be fear'd of doing harm—For you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours;
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;
You we first seize on.
Edmund.
I shall serve you, sir,
Truly, however else.
Gloster.
For him I thank your grace.
Corn.
You know not why we came to visit you,—
Regan.
Thus out of season; threading dark-ey'd night.
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister
Of differences, which I best thought it fit
To answer from our home; the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business.
Which craves the instant use.
Gloster.
I serve you, madam:
Your graces are right welcome. Exeunt, R.
-- 31 --
Scene II.—Gates before Gloster's Castle.; half dark.Enter Kent from gates, C. and Oswald, L.
Oswald.
Good dawning to thee, friend: art of the house?
Kent.
Ay.
Oswald.
Where may we set our horses?
Kent.
I' the mire.
Oswald.
Pr'ythee, if thou lov'st me, tell me.
Kent.
I love thee not.
Oswald.
Why, then I care not for thee.
Kent.
If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would
make thee care for me.
Oswald.
Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee
not.
Kent.
Fellow, I know thee.
Steward.
What dost thou know me for?
Kent.
A knave; a rascal, an eater of broken meats;
a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound,
filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking
knave; a whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable,
finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one
that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art
nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward,
pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one
whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st
the least syllable of thy addition.
Oswald.
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 know'st me? Is it two days ago, since I tripp'd up
thy heels, and beat thee, before the king? Draw, you
rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon shines; I'll
make a sop o' the moonshine of you. Draw, you whoreson
cullionly barber-monger, draw.
(drawing his sword)
Oswald.
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 part, against the
Royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado
your shanks:—draw, you rascal: come your ways.
Oswald.
Help, ho! murder! help!
-- 32 --
Kent.
Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat
slave, strike.
(beating him—Oswald running away from him)
Oswald.
Help, ho! murder! murder!
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, Edmund and Servants from C.
Edmund. (R. C.)
How now? What's the matter? Part!
Corn. (C.)
Keep peace, upon your lives;
He dies, that strikes again. What is the matter?
Regan. (R. of him)
The messengers from our sister and
the king.
Corn.
What is your difference? Speak.
Oswald. (L.)
I am scarce in breath, my lord.
Kent. (R.)
No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valor.
You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor
made thee.
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?
Oswald.
This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd
At suit of his grey beard,—
Kent.
Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!—
My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted
villain into mortar, and daub the wall with him.—
Spare my grey beard, you wagtail?
Corn.
Peace, sirrah!
You knave, know now you no reverence?
Kent.
Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege.
Corn.
Why art thou angry?
Kent.
That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following.—
A plague upon your epileptic visage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool.
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain.
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.
Corn.
What! art thou mad, old fellow?
-- 33 --
Gloster.
How fell you out? say that.
Kent.
No contraries hold more antipathy.
Than I, and such a knave.
Corn.
Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence?
Kent.
His countenance likes me not.
Corn.
No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor 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.
Regan.
This is some fellow,
Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness. *He cannot flatter, he!—
*An honest mind and plain,—he must
*An' they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. Speak truth:
*These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
*Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
*Than twenty silly ducking observants,
*That stretch their duties nicely.
Corn.
What was the offence you gave him?
Oswald.
I never gave him any.
It pleas'd the king, his master, very late,
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind: being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthied him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here.
Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks, ho!
You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart;
We'll teach you,— Two Servants exeunt, R. and fetch stocks.
Kent.
Sir, I am too old to learn:
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 his messenger.
-- 34 --
Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks:
(two Servants secure Kent and put him in the stocks, R.)
As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.
Regan.
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.
Regan.
Sir, being this knave, I will.
Gloster.
Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for 't: the king must take it ill,
That he,—so slightly valued in his messenger,—
Should have him thus restrain'd.
Corn.
I'll answer that.
Regan.
My sister may receive it much more worse
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs. Come, my good lord; away. Exeunt Cornwall, Regan, Edmund, and Servants, C.
Gloster.
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'd: 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.
Gloster.
The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. Exit, C.
Kent.
Good king, that must approve the common saw!
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! I know, 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course; and shall find time
From this enormous state,—seeking to give
Losses their remedies:—All weary and o'er-watch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night;
Smile once more; turn thy wheel! (he sleeps and is closed in by)
-- 35 --
Scene III.—A Part of the Heath.—Night.Enter Edgar, L.
Edgar.
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,
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 ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast; my face I'll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots;
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pedling villages, sheep-cotes and mills,
Sometimes with lunatic bans, sometimes with prayers,
Enforce their charity.—Poor Turlygood! poor Tom!
That's something yet;—Edgar I nothing am. Exit, R.Scene IV.—Before Gloster's Castle.—As before.Kent discovered in the Stocks.
Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman, L.
Lear.
'Tis strange, that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger.
Gentleman.
As I learn'd,
The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.
Fool.
If a man's brains were in's heels, wer't not in
danger of kibes?
Lear.
Ay, boy.
Fool.
Then, I pr'ythee, be merry; thy wit shall not go
slip-shod.
-- 36 --
Lear.
Ha, ha, ha!
Fool.
Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee
kindly; for though she's as like this, as a crab is like an
apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
Lear.
What can'st tell, boy?
Fool.
She will taste as like this, as a crab does to a
crab. Thou can'st tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle
on's face.
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Why to keep one's eyes of either side's nose;
that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.
Lear.
I did her wrong.
Fool.
Canst 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 would'st made a good fool.
Lear.
To take it again perforce! Monster ingratitude!
Fool.
If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee
beaten for being old before thy time.
Lear.
How's that?
Fool.
Thou shouldst not have been old before thou
hadst been wise.
Lear.
Oh! let me not be mad—not mad, sweet heaven!
Keep me in temper—I would not be mad.
Kent.
Hail to thee, noble master.
Lear.
Ha!
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
Kent.
No, my lord!
Fool.
Ha, ha; look! he wears cruel garters! Horses
are tied by the head; dogs and bears by the neck;
monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs: when a man
is over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks.
-- 37 --
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.
Kent.
Yes.
Lear.
No, I say.
Kent.
I say, yea.
Lear.
No, no; they would not.
Kent.
Yes, they have!
Lear.
By Jupiter, I swear, no.
Kent.
By Juno, I swear, ay.
Lear.
They durst not do't;
They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than murder
To do, upon respect, such violent outrage.
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 highnes' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came and there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress, salutations;
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
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, drew;
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 yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
(sings)
Fathers, that wear rags,
Do make their children blind;
But fathers, that bear bags,
Shall see their children kind.
-- 38 --
Lear.
O, how this mother 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 into castle, C.
Kent.
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.
Kent.
Why, fool?
Fool.
We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee
there's no labouring i' 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 stinking.
Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest
it 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 thee 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 let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool, that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
Kent.
Were learn'd you this, fool?
Fool.
Not i' the stocks, fool.
Re-enter Lear, with Gloster, C.
Lear.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? They are weary?
They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches;
The images of revolt and flying off!
Fetch me a better answer.
Gloster. (R.)
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremoveable and fix'd he is
In his own course.
Lear. (C.)
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
-- 39 --
Fiery? what quality? why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall and his wife.
Gloster.
Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.
Lear.
Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man?
Gloster.
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 this? My breath and blood!—
Fiery? the fiery duke?—Tell the hot duke, that—
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 for the body; I'll forbear;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
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 pursuades me
That this remotion of the duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.
Enter two Servants with torches, Cornwall, and Regan, Pages, Ladies, Officers, and Guards, C.
Go, tell the duke and 's 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 death.” Oh, you are come.
Good morrow.
Corn. (R.)
Hail to your grace! (Cornwall has whispered to the Servants und Kent is set at liberty)
Regan. (R. C.)
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 womb,
Sepúlchring an adul'tress.—O, are you free?
(to Kent)
Some other time for that.—Beloved Regan,
-- 40 --
Thy sister's naught: O, Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here,—
(points to his heart)
I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe,
With how deprav'd a quality—O, Regan!
(leans on her bosom)
Regan.
I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.
Lear.
Say, how is that?
Regan.
I cannot think my sister in the least
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!
Regan.
O, sir, you are old;
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: 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, sir.
Lear.
Ask her forgiveness?
Do you mark how this becomes the house:
“Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg
(kneels)
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.”
Regan.
Good, sir, no more—these are unsightly tricks,
Return you to my sister. (Kent and Physician raise Lear)
Lear.
Never, Regan:
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
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!
Cornwall.
Fie, sir, fie!
Lear.
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
-- 41 --
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
To fall and blast her pride!
Regan.
O the blest gods!
So will you wish on me when the rash mood's on?
Lear.
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse;
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
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.
Regan.
Good sir, to the purpose.
Lear.
Who put my man i' the stocks? (trumpets within)
Corn.
What trumpet's that?
Regan.
I know 't, my sister's: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.
Enter Oswald, L.
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! (Oswald crosses behind to R.)
Corn.
What means your grace?
Lear.
Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know on't. (trumpet) Who comes here? O, heavens!
Enter Goneril, L., attended.
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,
Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!—
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?—
(to Goneril.—Regan advances to Goneril, L. C., and takes her hand)
O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?
Gon.
Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?
-- 42 --
All's not offence, that indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms so.
Lear. (C.)
O, sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold?
Regan.
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
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 entertainment.
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 pinch!—Return with her!
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom. (looking on the Steward, R.)
Gon. (crossing with Regan, R.)
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 flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine.
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.
Regan. (R. C.)
Not altogether so, sir;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome.
Lear. (C.)
Is this well spoken now?
Regan.
I dare avouch it, sir: What, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many? (Lear takes off his hat, and throws it on the ground)
Gon. (L.)
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
-- 43 --
Regan.
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.
Regan.
And in good time you gave it.
Lear.
What, must I come to you
With five and twenty, Regan? said you so?
Regan.
And speak't again, my lord; no more with me.
Lear.
Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favor'd,
When others are more wicked; 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?
Regan.
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.
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
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 not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep:—
(distant thunder heard)
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
-- 44 --
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep: (leans on the Fool) O, fool, I shall go mad!
Lear rushes off, L., followed by Kent and Fool,
Gloster standing, R., Corwall, Regan, Goneril, and Train, C.
ACT III.Scene I.—A Heath.—A storm is heard with thunder and lightning; stage dark.Enter Kent, R. and a Gentleman, L., 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 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 to out-scorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all. (storm)
Kent.
But who is with him?
Gent.
None but the fool; who labors 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 is division,
Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
And, true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
-- 45 --
Wise is our negligence, have secret feet
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.
If you shall see Cordelia,
(As fear not but you shall,) show her this ring;
And she will tell you who that fellow is
That yet you do not know. (thunder) Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the king.
(crosses to L.)
Gent.
Give me your hand: (shakes hands) 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 your pain
That way; I'll this: he that first lights on him
Holloa the other. (storm)Exeunt Gentleman, R., Kent, L. Violent thunder,
stage dark; storm as violent as possible before change of scene.
Scene II.—Another part of the Heath. Storm continues.Enter Lear and Fool, L. 3 E.
Lear.
Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! (wind) rage! (wind) blow! (rain)
You cataracts, and hurricanoes spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples,
(lightning)
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt—couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head! (thunder) And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germins spill at once,
That make ingrateful man! (storm)
Fool.
Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing;
here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools.
-- 46 --
Lear.
Rumble thy bellyfull! (lightning) Spit, fire! (rain) 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:—
(thunder)
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That will with two pernicious daughters join
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul! (storm)
Fool.
He that has a house to put his head in, has a good
head-piece.
Enter Kent, R. U. E.
Lear.
No, I will be the pattern of all patience, I will
say nothing—nothing.
(kneels, C.)
(storm)
Kent.
Who's there?
Fool.
Marry, 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 wanderers of the dark,
And make them keep their caves: (storm) 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 fear. (violent thunder—then, only lightning)
Lear.
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother 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 simuler of virtue
That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practis'd on man's life: close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace.—I am a man,
-- 47 --
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
(thunder, wind, and rain)
Kent. (R.)
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,
Denied me to come in,) return and force
Their scanted courtesy. (thunder and rain)
Lear. (C.)
My wits begin to turn.—
Come on, my boy; (to Fool) 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 heart
That's sorry yet for thee. (leaning his arms on their shoulders)
Fool. (L., sings)
He that has a little tiny wit,—
(shivering)
With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain.—
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, supported by Kent and Fool, R.
Scene III.—A Room in Gloster's Castle.Enter Gloster and Edmund, R.
Gloster.
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.
Edmund.
Most savage, and unnatural!
Gloster.
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
-- 48 --
power already footed: 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. Edmund; pray you, be
careful.
(Exit, L.—thunder)
Edmund.
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, R.Scene IV.—A part of the Heath, with a Hovel, R. U. E.—The storm continues.
Enter Lear, supported by Kent and Fool, L. U. E.
Kent.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
Lear.
Let me alone.
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Wilt break my heart?
Kent.
I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord, enter. (wind and rain)
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 fix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt. When the mind's free,
The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
(storm)
Save what beats there. (striking his forehead) 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. (rain) In such a night
To shut me out. (rain) Pour on; I will endure:—
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!—
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all.—
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that,—
-- 49 --
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:
In, boy; go first. (to Fool) You houseless poverty,—
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.—
Fool goes in R. U. E. Thunder, lightning, and rain—then a pause.
Poor naked wretches, whosoe'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 physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel;
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just. (crosses, L.—storm)
Edgar. (within)
Fathom 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! (crouching behind Kent)
Kent.
Give me thy hand.—Who's there? (calls to hovel)
Fool.
A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's Poor Tom.
Kent.
What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw?
(storm)
Come forth. Enter Edgar, disguised as a madman, R. U. E. from hovel.
Edgar. (R.)
Away! the foul fiend follows me!
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.—
Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
Lear.
Hast thou given all to thy two daughters?
And art thou come to this?
Edgar.
Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the
foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through
ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire; that hath
laid knives under his pillow, 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 wits!
(wind) Tom's a-cold. (wind) O, do de, do de, do de.—
-- 50 --
Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking!
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.
(striking with his staff)(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 he had had nought.
Lear.
Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's vaults, light on thy daughters.
Kent. (L. C.)
He hath no daughters, sir.
Lear. (C.)
Death, traitor! nothing could have subdued 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 daughters.
Edgar. (R.)
Pillicock sat on pillicock's-hill;—
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!
Fool. (L.)
This cold night will turn us all to fools and
madmen.
Edgar.
Take heed o' the 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.
(wind) Tom's a-cold.
Lear.
What hast thou been?
Edgar.
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that
curled my hair: wore gloves in my cap: swore as many
oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face
of heaven. Wine loved I deeply; dice dearly; and
out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of ear,
bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in
greediness, dog in madness, 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 lenders' books, and
defy the foul fiend. (wind) Still through the hawthorn blows
the cold wind: says suum, mun, ha no nonney, Dolphin
my boy, my boy, sessa; let him trot by.
(storm continues)
Lear.
Why, thou were better in thy grave, than to
answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the
-- 51 --
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 on's 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 here.
(crosses, R.—tearing off his clothes—wind and rain)
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty
night to swim in.
Kent.
Defend his wits—good heaven!
Lear.
What's your name?
Edgar.
Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the
toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water; that
in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages,
swallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the
green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped
from tything to tything, and stocked, punished, and
imprisoned; 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.
(Lear crosses to L., examining some straw which he takes from Edgar)
Beware, my follower:—peace, Smulkin: peace, thou fiend!
Lear.
One word more, but be sure keep true counsel
—tell me, is a madman a gentleman, a yeoman, or a king?
Edgar.
Frateretto calls me, (placing his ear to the
ground) and tells me, Nero is an angler in the lake of
darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend!
Lear.
To have a thousand with red burning spits
Come whizzing in upon them.
Kent.
I feared 'twould come to this.
Lear.
It shall be done; I will arraign them straight.—
Now you she foxes!—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 o' the commission,
Sit you too. (to Kent—making them sit, L.) Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril.
And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim
What store her heart is made on.—Stop her there!
-- 52 --
Arms, arms, sword, fire!—Corruption in the place!
False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape?
Edgar. (aside)
My tears begin to take his part so much,
They'll mar my counterfeiting.
Lear.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.
Edgar.
Tom will throw his head at them.—Avaunt,
you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisous if it bite;
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, brach or lym,
Or bobtail tyke, or trundle tail,
Tom will make them weep and wail;
For with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
(throws his straw head dress and crosses, L.)
Do, de, de, de! sese! come march to wakes, and fairs,
and country towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.
Kent.
How do you, sir? Stand you not so amaz'd—
Will go in?
Lear.
You sir; I entertain you for one of my hundred,
only I do not like the fashion of your garments—you will
say, they are Persian attire, but let them be changed.
(crosses, L.)
Fool. (pointing, R.)
Look, here comes a walking fire
Edgar. (looking, R.)
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet:
he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives
the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip;
mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creatures
of the 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 thee.
Enter Gloster and two Servants, R., with torches.
Gloster.
What has your grace no better company?
Edgar.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman;
Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. Poor Tom's a-cold.
-- 53 --
Gloster.
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
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;
(Lear and Edgar sit down, L. C.)
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 Theban:—
What is your study?
Edgar.
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear.
Let me ask you one word in private. (whispers in Edgar's ear)
Kent.
Impórtune him once more to go, my lord,
His wits begin to unsettle.
Gloster.
Canst thou blame him?
His daughters seek his death:—
Thou say'st, the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself:
This bedlam, but disturbs him. Fellow, begone!
Edgar.
Child Rowland to the dark tower came,—
His word was still,—Fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man. Retires, and Exit, R. U. E.—Lear clings to his
blanket and is dragged to C. there losing his hold.
Kent. (L. of Lear)
Now, good my lord—
Lear.
Aye, let them anatomise Regan,—see what breeds about her heart:
Is there any cause in nature for these hard hearts?
Gloster.
Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy arms;
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him.
There is a litter ready, lay him in't,
And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Good sir, along with us.
Lear.
Hush, make no noise, make no noise: draw the
curtains closer, closer, so, so, so; we'll go to supper i'the
morning—so, so.
(falls asleep and is carried off by Kent, Gloster, and Servants, R.)
-- 54 --
ACT IV.Scene I.—A Room in Gloster's Castle, lights up.Enter Cornwall with a letter, Edmund, Regan, Goneril, and 4 Servants, L.
Corn.
I will have my revenge, ere I depart his house.
Edmund.
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 of
France. O heavens! that this treason were not, or not I
the detector! but 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.
I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a dearer
father in my love. Goneril, post speedily to my lord your
husband; show him this letter:—the army of France
is landed:—Seek out the traitor, Gloster. (crosses, R.)
Exeunt two Servants, L.
Regan.
Hang him instantly.
Goneril.
Pluck out his eyes.
(crosses, L.)
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 preparation; we are bound to the like. Farewell,
dear sister;—farewell, my lord of Gloster.
Enter Oswald, L.
How now? Where's the king?
Oswald.
My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him hence:
Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast
To have well-armed friends.
Corn.
Get horses for your mistress. Exit OswaldL.
Goneril.
Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. Exeunt Goneril and Edmund, L.
Corn.
Edmund, farewell,—Go, seek the traitor Gloster,
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us.
Exeunt other Servants, L.
Though well we may not pass upon his life
-- 55 --
Without the form of justice, yet our power
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not controul.
Exeunt Cornwall and Regan, R.
Scene II.—The Heath.Enter Edgar, R.
Edgar.
Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
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 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.—But who comes here?
Enter Gloster, with a bandage round his eyes, led by an Old Man, L. 2 E.
My father, poorly led?—World, world, O world!
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yield to age.
Gloster.
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! you cannot see your way.
Gloster.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw. Ah! 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. (C.)
How now? Who's there?
Edgar. (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.
Edgar. (aside)
And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
So long as we can say, “This is the worst.”
Gloster.
Is it a beggar-man?
-- 56 --
Old Man.
Madman and beggar too.
Gloster.
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.
Edgar. (aside)
How should this be?
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
Angering itself and others. Bless thee, master!
Gloster.
Is that the naked fellow?
Old Man.
Ay, my lord.
Gloster.
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 lead me.
Old Man.
Alack, sir, he's mad.
Gloster.
'Ts the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure.
Old Man.
I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have,
Come on 't what will, Crosses and exits, L.
Gloster.
Sirrah, naked fellow.
Edgar.
Poor Tom 's a-cold.
Gloster.
Come hither, fellow.
Edgar.
Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.
Gloster.
Know'st thou the way to Dover?
Edgar.
Both stile and gate, horse-way and footpath.
Poor Tom has been scared out of his good wits: bless
thee good man's son from the foul fiend!
Gloster.
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 superfluous, and lust-dieted man,
That will not see
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;
So distribution should undo excess,
And each man have enough.—Dost thou know Dover?
Edgar.
Ay, master.
-- 57 --
Gloster.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head.
Looks fearfully in the confined deep:
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.
Edgar.
Give me thy arm;
Poor Tom shall lead thee. Exeunt, R.Scene III.—The Duke of Albany's Palace.Enter Goneril and Edmund, L.; Oswald meeting them, R. 2 E.
Goneril.
Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our mild husband
Not met us on the way:—Now, where's your master?
Oswald.
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.”
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.
Goneril.
Then shall you go no farther.
(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.
Wear this; (giving a ring) spare speech;
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edmund.
Yours in the ranks of death.
Goneril.
My most dear Gloster!
Exit Edmund, L.
O, the difference of man, and man!
To thee a woman's services are due;
My fool usurps my body.
Oswald.
Madam, here comes my lord. Exit, L.
-- 58 --
Enter Albany, R. 2 E.
Goneril.
I have been worth the whistle.
Albany.
O Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face.—What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefitted?
Goneril.
Milk-liver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs:
Where's thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sitt'st still, and cry'st,
“Alack! why does he so?”
Albany.
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid, as in woman.
Goneril.
O, vain fool! Enter a Messenger, L.
Albany.
What news?
Messen.
O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
Slain by his servant, who interposed his arm to save
The eyes of Gloster.
Albany.
Gloster's eyes!
Messen.
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.
Albany.
This shows you are above,
Yon justiciers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can venge!—But, O, poor Gloster!
Lost he his other eye?
Messen.
Both, both, my lord.
(gives letter to Goneril)
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
'Tis from your sister.
-- 59 --
Goneril. (aside)
One way I like this well;
But being widow, and my Gloster with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life: I'll read, and answer. Exit, L.
Albany.
Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
Messen.
Come with my lady hither.
Albany.
He is not here.
Messen.
No, my good lord; I met him back again.
Albany.
Knows he the wickedness?
Messen.
Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him,
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have a freer course.
Albany.
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, R.Re-enter Goneril and Oswald, L.
It was sad ignorance Gloster's eyes being out,
To let him live: where he arrives he'll move
All hearts against us. It were well dispatch
His nighted life. Take this note.
(gives letter)
With all speed seek out lord Edmund, to his
Own hand give this: so fare you well,
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him, that cuts him off. Exeunt Goneril, R. 2 E., Steward, L. 2 E.
Scene IV.—A Tent.Enter Soldiers, Cordelia, and Physician, L.
Cordelia.
Alack! 'tis he: why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud;
Crown'd with rank fumiter, and furrow weeds,
With hoar-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel, 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, L.
-- 60 --
What can man's wisdom,
In the restoring his bereaved sense?
He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Physician.
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.
Cordelia.
All bless'd secrets,
And 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 it. Enter a Messenger, L.
Messenger.
News, madam:
The British powers are marching hitherward.
Cordelia.
'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 important tears, hath pitied.
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 R.Scene V.—The Country near Dover.Enter Gloster, and Edgar dressed like a peasant, with a quarter-staff, L. U. E.
