L. U. E.
Gloster.
When shall I come to the top of that same hill?
Edgar.
You do climb up it now: look how we labor.
Gloster.
Methinks, the ground is even.
Edgar.
Horrible steep:
Hark, do you hear the sea?
Gloster.
No, truly.
Edgar.
Why, then your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes' anguish.
-- 61 --
Gloster.
So may it be, indeed:
Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst.
Edgar.
You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd
But in my garments.
Gloster.
Methinks, y' are better spoken.
Edgar.
Come on, sir; here's the place;—stand still.—How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond' tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to the cock; her cock, a boy
Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high:—I'll look no more;
Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.
Gloster.
Set me where you stand.
Edgar.
Give me your hand. You are now within a foot
Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.
Gloster.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, is another purse; in it, a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies, and gods,
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Edgar.
Now fare you well, good sir.
(seems to go—crossing)
Gloster.
With all my heart.
Edgar.
Why I do trifle thus with his despair,
(going back)
Is done to cure it.
Gloster. (kneels)
O you mighty gods!
This world I do renounce; and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should
-- 62 --
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!—
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
(Edgar stays him R., as he is about to leap)
Edgar.
But who comes here?
Enter Lear, L. 3 E., fantastically dressed with wild flowers.
Lear.
No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the
king himself.
Edgar. (R. C.)
O, thou side-piercing sight!
Lear. (L. C.)
Nature's above art in that respect.—There's
your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a
crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard.—Look, look! a
mouse. Peace, peace!—this piece of toasted cheese will
do't.—There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant.—
Bring up the brown bills.—O, well flown, bird!—i' the
clout, i' the clout: hewgh!—Give the word.
Edgar.
Sweet marjoram.
Lear.
Pass.
(Edgar passes over to L.)
Gloster. (R.)
I know that voice.
Lear.
Ha! Goneril!—with a white beard!—They flatter'd
me like a dog; and told me, I had white hairs in my
beard, ere the black ones were there. To say “ay,” and
“no,” to every thing I said!—“Ay” and “no” too was
no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once,
and the wind to make me chatter, when the thunder would
not peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt
'em out. Go to, they are not men o' their words: they
told me I was every thing; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
Gloster.
The trick of that voice I do well remember:
Is't not the king.
Lear.
Ay, every inch a king:
When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life: what was thy cause?—
Adultery.—
Thou shalt not die: die for adultery? No:
For Gloster's bastard son
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.—
Behold yond' simpering dame,
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
-- 63 --
To hear of pleasure's name;
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are centaurs,
Though women all above:
But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiends: there's hell, there's darkness,
there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench consumption;
—fie, fie, fie! pah; pah! Give me, an ounce
of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination:
there's money for thee.
(crosses, R.)
Gloster. (C.)
O, let me kiss that hand!
Lear.
Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
Gloster.
O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
shall so wear out to nought.—Dost thou know me?
Lear.
I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou
squiny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid; I'll not
love.—Read thou this challenge: mark but the penning
of it.
Gloster.
Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.
Lear.
Read.
Gloster.
What! with the case of eyes?
Lear.
O, ho! are you there with me? No eyes in
your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are
in a heavy case, your purse in a light: yet you see how
this world goes.
Gloster.
I see it feelingly.
Lear.
What, art mad? A man may see how this world
goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond'
justice rails upon yond' simple thief. Hark, in thine ear:
change places; and, handy-dandy, which is the justice,
which is the thief?—(crosses, L.) Thou hast seen a farmer's
dog bark at a beggar?
Gloster.
Ay, sir.
Lear.
And the creature run from the cur? There thou
might'st behold the great image of authority: a dog's
obey'd in office.—
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
Why dost thou lash that wench? Strip thine own back;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
-- 64 --
For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with gold
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em:
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.—(crosses, R., and sits on a bank) Now, now, now, now:
Pull off my boots: harder, harder; so.
Edgar. (L.)
O, matter and impertinency mix'd!
Reason in madness!
Lear.
If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster:
Thou must be patient. We came crying hither:
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air
We wawl, and cry. I will preach to thee: mark me.
Gloster.
Alack! alack the day!
Lear.
When we were born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools.
Enter Physician with Attendants, L. U. E.
Physician.
O! here he is: lay hand upon him.—Sir,
Your most dear daughter.—
(they lay hold of him gently on each side)
Lear.
No rescue? What! a prisoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune.—Use me well;
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon,
I am cut to the brains.
Physician.
You shall have any thing.
Lear.
No seconds? All myself?
Physician.
Good sir,—
Lear.
I will die bravely,
Like a smug bridegroom. What! I will be jovial.
Come, come; I am a king, my masters, know you that?
(throws them off, and crosses to L.)
Physician.
You are a royal one, and we obey you.
-- 65 --
Lear.
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
A troop of horse with felt: I'll put it in proof;
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
(crosses, R.)
*Nay, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.
Exit, R.—Physician and Attendants follow.
Edgar.
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a king!—Thou hast one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.
Gloster.
You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me:
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!
Edgar.
Well pray you, father.
Gloster.
Now, good sir, what are you?
Edgar.
A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I'll lead you to some biding.
Gloster.
Hearty thanks;
The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot!
(going, L.)
Enter Oswald, L.
Oswald.
A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember;—(draws) the sword is out
That must destroy thee.
Gloster.
Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to it.
(Edgar interposes, C.)
Oswald.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
Lest that th' infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
Edgar.
Chill not let go, zir, without varther 'casion.
Oswald.
Let go, slave, or thou diest.
Edgar.
Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk
pass. And ch'ud ha' been zwagger'd out of my life,
'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay,
-- 66 --
come not near the old man; keep out, che vor'ye, or Ise
try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder.
Ch'ill be plain with you.
Oswald.
Out, dunghill!
Edgar.
Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir. Come; no matter
vor your foins.
(They fight; and Edgar strikes him down, L. C.)
Oswald.
Slave, thou hast slain me.—Villain, take my purse.
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body:
And give the letters, which thou find'st about me
To Edmund Earl of Gloster: seek him out
Upon the British party:—O, untimely death!
(dies)
Edgar.
I know thee well: a serviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As badness would desire.
Gloster.
What! is he dead?
Edgar.
Sit you down, father; rest you.—
(he sits, R.)
Let's see his pockets: these letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends.—He's dead; I am only sorry
He had no other death's-man.—Let us see:—
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts,
Their papers is more lawful.
(finding letter, which he opens and reads)
“Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have
many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want
not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is
nothing done, if he return the conqueror; then, I am the
prisoner, and his bed my gaol, from the loathed warmth
whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.
Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant,
Goneril.”
O, undistinguish'd space of woman's will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
And the exchange, my brother!—Here in the sands,
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd duke. For him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.
(draws off the body, L.—drum afar off—he returns and raises Gloster)
-- 67 --
Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father; I'll bestow you with a friend.
Exeunt, R.
William Macready [1857], King Lear. A Tragedy, in five acts, by William Shakespeare (Thomas Hailes Lacy [etc.], London) [word count] [S41000].
