Charles Kean [1858], Shakespeare's tragedy of King Lear, arranged for representation at the Princess's Theatre, with historical and explanatory notes, by Charles Kean, F.S.A. as first performed on Saturday, April 17, 1858 (Printed by John K. Chapman and Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S31100].
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King Lear
note
Introductory matter
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
AS FIRST PERFORMED, SATURDAY, APRIL 17, 1858.
| Lear, King of Britain, | Mr. CHARLES KEAN. |
| King of France, | Mr. BRAZIER. |
| Duke of Burgundy, | Mr. ROLLESTON. |
| Duke of Cornwall, | Mr. RAYMOND. |
| Duke of Albany, | Mr. J. F. CATHCART. |
| Earl of Kent, | Mr. COOPER. |
| Earl of Gloster [Earl of Gloucester], | Mr. GRAHAM. |
Edgar, (Son of Gloster) | Mr. RYDER. |
Edmund, (Bastard Son of Gloster) | Mr. WALTER LACY. |
Curan, (a Courtier) | Mr. BARSBY. |
| Physician [Doctor], | Mr. F. COOKE. |
Oswald, (Steward to Goneril) | Mr. DAVID FISHER. |
| Fool, | Miss POOLE. |
| Knight, | Mr. PAULO. |
| Gentleman, | Mr. G. EVERETT. |
| Herald, | Mr. COLLETT. |
Old Man, (Tenant to Gloster) | Mr. MORRIS. |
| Messenger, | Mr. STOAKES. |
Goneril, (Daughter of Lear) | Miss HEATH. |
Regan, (Daughter of Lear) | Miss BUFTON. |
Cordelia, (Daughter of Lear) | Miss KATE TERRY. |
Nobles, Knights, Ladies, Pages, Officers, Guards, &c., &c.
[French Knight], [Officer], [Herald]
-- v --
PREFACE.
The story of King Lear and his three daughters,
belongs to an age preceding the time recorded by
authentic history, and is only to be found in the
fabulous traditions of our country. Shakespeare,
through the sublimity of his genius, has immortalized
the name of the passionate, “foolish,
fond old man,” by a combination of poetic scenes,
surpassing in grandeur all other creations of his stupendous
mind. This play, perfect and unrivalled,
as an embodiment of human misery, presents a
harrowing picture of filial ingratitude and paternal
despair aggravated into madness. The incidents of
the tragedy are presumed to occur when the land
was peopled with rude Heathens, and the minds and
hearts of men, as yet unreclaimed by the softening
influences of Christianity, were barbarous and cruel.
It would be useless to attempt any chronological
representation of the costume and architecture of
Britain about the period when, if we could possibly
credit the strange relations of Geoffrey of Monmouth,
Romulus was yet unborn, Nitocris ruled in
Egypt, and Isaiah prophesied in Israel. I have,
however, deemed it advisable to fix upon some
definite epoch as the supposed time of action, if
only for the sake of securing uniformity of character
-- vi --
in the accessories of this great drama. The Anglo-Saxon
era of the eighth century has been selected
for the regulation of the scenery and dresses, as
affording a date sufficiently remote, while it is, at
the same time, associated with British soil. Ample
information may be obtained respecting the military
and civil habiliments of our early Saxon ancestors by
referring to the delineations preserved in their manuscripts,
which are without doubt real transcripts of
their own days; and while it is to be regretted
that the traces of all edifices anterior to the Norman
Conquest are few and insignificant, we can yet,
with such materials as we possess, attain a degree
of approximate truth absolutely impossible in the
mythical age to which Lear belongs. The tragedy,
although essentially dependent on the exhibition of
human feelings and passions, still affords scope for
the introduction of those illustrative adjuncts which
have been so successfully employed in many other
Shakesperian revivals at this theatre.
In accordance, therefore, with the principle which
has heretofore guided my efforts, and under the firm
belief that accuracy of detail is on all occasions not
only necessary, but advantageous on the stage, I trust
that the attempt I have made in the present instance
to realize a picture of early English history, will be
again accepted as a pleasing and instructive appendage
to the intellectual lessons of the author.
CHARLES KEAN.
-- 7 --
KING LEAR.
ACT I.
Scene I.
—A CHAMBER IN KING LEAR'S PALACE.
Enter Kent, Gloster, and Edmund.
Kent.
I thought, the king had more affected the duke of
Albany, than Cornwall.
Glo.
It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division
of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values
most.
Kent.
Is not this your son, my lord?
Glo.
His breeding, Sir, hath been at my charge: I have
so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed
to it.
Kent.
I cannot conceive you.
Glo.
Sir, his mother could. Do you smell a fault?
Kent.
I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it
being so proper.1 note
Glo.
But I have, Sir, a son by order of law, some year
elder than this,2 note 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?
Edm.
No, my lord.
Glo.
My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my
honourable friend.
Edm.
My services to your lordship.
Kent.
I must love you, and sue to know you better.
-- 8 --
Edm.
Sir, I shall study deserving.
Glo.
He hath been out nine years,3 note and away he shall
again. (Trumpets sound without.) The king is coming.
[Exeunt.
Scene II.
—A ROOM OF STATE IN KING LEAR'S PALACE.
King Lear on his throne(A)8Q0090, attended by Cornwall,
Albany, Gloster, Kent, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia,
the Royal Sword Bearer(B)8Q0091, Nobles, Knights, Ladies, Pages, and Musicians(C)8Q0092.
Lear.
Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloster.
Glo.
I shall, my liege.
[Exeunt Gloster and Attendants.
Lear.
Meantime, we shall express our darker purpose.4 note
Give me the map there.—Know, that we have divided,
In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent5 note
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,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will6 note to publish
Our daughters' 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,
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where merit doth most challenge it.—Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.
Gon.
Sir, I
Do love you more than words can wield the matter,
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;
-- 9 --
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much7 note I love you.
Cor.
What shall Cordelia do?—Love and be silent.
[Aside.
Lear.
Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.—What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.
Reg.
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,—I am alone felicitate8 note
In your dear highness' love.
Cor.
Then poor Cordelia!
[Aside.
And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
More richer than my tongue.
Lear.
To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity,9 note and pleasure,
Than that conferr'd on Goneril.—Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least; to whose young love
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Strive to be interess'd;10 note what can you say, to win
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
Cor.
Nothing, my lord.
Lear.
Nothing?
Cor.
Nothing.
Lear.
Nothing can come of nothing: speak again.
Cor.
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 it may mar your fortunes.
-- 10 --
Cor.
Good, my lord,
You gave me being, bred me, lov'd me: I
Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say,
They love you, all? Haply,11 note 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?
Cor.
Ay, my good lord.
Lear.
So young, and so untender?12 note
Cor.
So young, my lord, and true.
Lear.
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,
And, as a stranger to my heart and me,
Hold thee, from this,13 note for ever.
Kent.
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.—Cornwall, and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
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
-- 11 --
Make with you by due turns. Only, we still retain
The name, and all the additions14 note to a king;
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,15 note
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part between you.
[Giving the crown.
Kent.
Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd—
Lear.
The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.
Kent.
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?
Lear.
Kent, on thy life no more.
Kent.
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies;16 note 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!
[Laying his hand on his sword
Alb. Corn.
Dear Sir, forbear.
Kent.
Do;
Kill thy physician;
For, 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 hast sought to make us break our vow,
(Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd pride,
note
-- 12 --
To come betwixt our sentence and our power;18 note
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,)
Our potency made good,19 note take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee for provision,
And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom: 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.
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!—
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
[To Regan and Goneril.
That good effects may spring from words of love.—
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
He'll shape his old course20 note in a country new.
[Exit.
Re-enter Gloster, with France, Burgundy, and Attendants.
Glo.
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 within that little, seeming21 note 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,
Take her, or leave her.
-- 13 --
Bur.
Pardon me, royal Sir;
Election makes not up on such conditions.22 note
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 avert23 note 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,
The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour!
Cor.
Yet beseech your majesty, that you make known
It is no vicious blot, nor other foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour:
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
Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me better.
France.
Is it but this?24 note a tardiness in nature,
Which often leaves the history unspoke,
That it intends to do?
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd;
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away.
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
-- 14 --
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here, a better where to find.25 note
Lear.
Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again:—Therefore begone,
Without our grace, our love, our benizon.26 note—
Come, noble Burgundy.
[Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, Gloster, and Attendants.
France.
Bid farewell to your sisters.
Cor.
Ye jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
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. Use well our father:
To your professing 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.
Gon.
Prescribe not us our duties.
Reg.
Let your study
Be, to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you
At fortune's alms.
Cor.
Time shall unfold what plaited cunning27 note hides;
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.—
Well may you prosper.
France.
Come, my fair Cordelia.
[Exeunt France and Cordelia.
Scene III.
—A HALL IN THE EARL OF GLOSTER'S CASTLE.
Enter Edmund, with a letter.
Edm.
Thou, nature, art my goddess;28 note to thy law
My services are bound: Wherefore should I
-- 15 --
Stand in the plague of custom,29 note and permit
The curiosity of nations30 note to deprive me,31 note
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines
Lag of a brother? Why branded? Wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,
As to the legitimate: Fine word,—legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow—I prosper.
Enter Gloster.
Glo.
Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted!
And the king gone to-night! subscrib'd32 note his power!
Confin'd to exhibition!33 note All this done
Upon the gad!34 note
Edmund! how now? what news?
Edm.
So please your lordship, none.
[Putting up the letter.
Glo.
What paper were you reading?
Edm.
Nothing, my lord.
Glo.
No? What needed, then, that terrible despatch of
it into your pocket? Let's see.
Edm.
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 over-looking.
-- 16 --
Glo.
Give me the letter, Sir.
Edm.
I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote
this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.35 note
Glo. (reads.)
“This policy, and reverence of age, makes
the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes
from us, till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find
an idle and fond bondage36 note in the oppression of aged tyranny;
who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come
to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would
sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue for
ever, and live the beloved of your brother, Edgar,”—Humph
—Conspiracy! “Sleep till I waked him,—you should enjoy,”
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?
Edm.
I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.
Glo.
You know the character to be your brother's?
Edm.
It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is
not in the contents.
Glo.
O villain! villain!—Unnatural villain! Go, sirrah,
seek him; I'll apprehend him. Abominable villain!
Edm.
If your honour 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.
Glo.
To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him
—Heaven and earth!—Edmund, seek him out, I pray you;
frame the business after your own wisdom.
Edm.
I will seek him, Sir, presently; convey the business
as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.
Glo.
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 crack'd between son and father.—Find out this
villain, Edmund! it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully:—
And the noble and true-hearted Kent banish'd! his offence,
honesty!—Strange! strange!
[Exit Gloster.
-- 17 --
Edm.
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 traitors, by spherical predominance;
drunkards and liars, 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!
Enter Edgar.
Edg.
How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation
are you in?
Edm.
I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this
other day, what should follow these eclipses. When saw
you my father last?
Edg.
Why, the night gone by.
Edm.
Spake you with him?
Edg.
Ay, two hours together.
Edm.
Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure
in him, by word or countenance?
Edg.
None at all.
Edm.
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.
Edg.
Some villain hath done me wrong.
Edm.
That's my fear. I pray you, 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:—If you do stir
abroad, go arm'd.
Edg.
Arm'd brother?
Edm.
Brother, I advise you to the best; go arm'd; I am
no honest man, if there be any good meaning towards you:
Pray you, away.
Edg.
Shall I hear from you anon?
Edm.
I do serve you in this business.—
[Exit Edgar.
A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
-- 18 --
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.
Scene IV.
—A COURT-YARD IN THE DUKE OF ALBANY'S PALACE.
Enter Goneril, Steward, and Attendants.
Gon.
Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of
his fool?
Stew.
Ay, Madam.
Gon.
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.
[Horns without.
Stew.
He's coming, Madam; I hear him.
Gon.
Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question:
If he dislike it, let him to my sister.
Remember what I have said.
Stew.
Very well, Madam.
[Exeunt.
Enter Kent, disguised.
Kent.
Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou can'st serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
(So may it come!) thy master, whom thou lov'st,
Shall find thee full of labours.
[Horns without.
Enter Lear, returning from the Boar Chase, attended by his Knights and Huntsmen.
Lear.
Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go, get it ready.
(Exit an Attendant)
How now, what art thou?
Kent.
A man, Sir.
Lear.
What dost thou profess? What 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
-- 19 --
honest; to converse37 note with him that is wise, and says little;
to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.(D)8Q0093
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.
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 qualify'd 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.
Follow me; thou shalt serve me.—Dinner, ho,
dinner!—Where's my knave? my fool? Go you, and call
my fool hither:
Enter Steward,
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?
Stew.
So please you,—
[Exit.
Lear.
What says the fellow there? Call the clodpole
back. (Exit a Knight.) Where's my fool, ho.—I think the
world's asleep.—How now? (Re-enter Knight,) 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 call'd
him?
-- 20 --
Knight.
Sir, he answer'd me in the roundest manner, he
would not.
Lear.
He would not!
Gent.
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! say'st 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.38 note
Lear.
No more of that; I have noted it well.—Go you,
and tell my daughter I would speak with her. (Exit a
Knight.) Go you, call hither my fool.
[Exit another Knight.
Re-enter Steward.
O, you Sir, you Sir, come you hither. Who am I, Sir?
Stew.
My lady's father.
Lear.
My lady's father! my lord's knave: you dog!
you slave! you cur!
Stew.
I am none of this, my lord; I beseech you pardon
me.
Lear.
Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
[Striking him.
Stew.
I'll not be struck, my lord.
Kent.
Nor tripped neither, you base foot-ball player.
[Tripping up his heels.
Lear.
I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love
thee.
Kent.
Come, Sir, arise, away; I'll teach you differences.
[Pushes the Steward out.
Lear.
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's
earnest of thy service.
[Giving Kent money.
-- 21 --
Enter Fool.(E)8Q0094
Fool.
Let me hire him too; Here's my coxcomb.
[Giving Kent his cap.
Lear.
How now, my pretty knave? how dost thou?
Fool.
Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
Kent.
Why, fool?
Fool.
Why? For taking one's part that is out of favour.
There, take my coxcomb.39 note Why, this fellow has banish'd
two of his daughters, and did the third a blessing against
his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my
coxcomb.
Lear.
This is nothing, fool.
Fool.
You gave me nothing for't: Can you make no use
of nothing, nuncle?
Lear.
Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of
nothing,
Fool.
Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his land
comes to; he will not believe a fool.
[To Kent.
Lear.
A bitter fool!
Fool.
Dost thou know the difference, nuncle, between a
bitter fool and a sweet fool?
Lear.
No, lad; teach me.
Fool. (Singing)
That lord, that counsel'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,—
Or 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.
Kent.
This is not altogether fool, my lord.
Fool.
No, 'faith! lords and great men, and ladies too,
-- 22 --
they will not let me have all fool to myself. Why, thou
had'st little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy
golden one away.
(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.
Lear.
When were you wont to be so full of song, sirrah?
Fool.
Ever since thou madest thy daughters thy mother,
nuncle: thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left
nothing in the middle. Here comes one o' the parings.
Enter Goneril, attended.
Lear.
How now, daughter, what makes that frontlet on?40 note
Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown.
Fool.
Once thou had'st no need to care for her frowning.
Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face (to
Goneril) bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum.
(Singing.)
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some.
Gon.
Not only, Sir, this your all-licens'd fool,
But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth
In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir,
I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,
By what yourself too late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on41 note
By your allowance,42 note which, if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep.
Fool.
For you trow, nuncle,
(Singing.)
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its young.
Lear.
Are you our daughter?
Gon.
Come, Sir, I would, you would make use of that
-- 23 --
good wisdom whereof I know you are fraught;43 note 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? Your name, fair
gentlewoman?
Gon.
Come, Sir;
This admiration is much o' the favour44 note
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 debauch'd, and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shows like a riotous inn,
More than a grac'd palace. 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 the remainder
To be such men at may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.
Lear.
Darkness and devils!—
Saddle my horses! call my train together!
Degenerate viper! I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter.
Enter Albany.
Lear.
Woe, that too late repents,—O, Sir, are you come?
Is it your will? (to Albany.) Speak, Sir.—Prepare my horses.
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster.45 note
-- 24 --
Alb.
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 didst thou in Cordelia show!
Which, like an engine,46 note wrench'd my frame of nature
From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear,
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,
[Striking his head.
And thy dear judgment out. Go, go, my people.
Alb.
Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?
Gon.
Never afflict yourself to know the cause.
Lear.
What, fifty of my followers at a clap—
Within a fortnight?
Alb.
What's the matter, Sir?
Lear.
I'll tell thee;—Life and death! I am asham'd
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus:
[To Goneril.
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them.—Blasts and fogs upon thee!
The untented47 note 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.—Yet have I left a daughter!
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.
Alb.
My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath mov'd you.
Lear.
It may be so, my lord. Hear, nature, hear;
Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful!
-- 25 --
Into her womb convey sterility!
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body48 note 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'd49 note torment to her.
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears50 note fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,51 note
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child. Away! away!
[Exeunt.
END OF ACT FIRST.
-- 26 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FIRST.
note
-- 27 --
-- 28 --
note
note
note
note
-- 29 --
-- 30 --
ACT II.
Scene I.
—EXTERIOR OF THE EARL OF GLOSTER'S CASTLE(A)8Q0095 (Night).
Enter Edmund and Curan, meeting.
Edm.
Save thee, Curan.
Cur.
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. Fare you well,
Sir.
[Exit.
Edm.
The duke be here to-night? The better! Best!
This weaves itself perforce into my business!
My father has set guard to take my brother;
And I have one thing, of a queazy question,1 note
Which I must act:—Briefness, and fortune, work!—
Brother, a word;—descend:—Brother, I say.
Enter Edgar.
My father watches:—O Sir, fly this place;
Intelligence is given where you are hid.
Have you not spoken 'gainst the duke of Cornwall?
He's coming hither. Have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the duke of Albany?2 note
Advise yourself.3 note
Edg.
I am sure on't, not a word.
Edm.
I hear my father coming,—Pardon me:—
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you:—
Draw: Seem to defend yourself: Now quit you well.
Yield:—come before my father;—Light, ho, here!—
-- 31 --
Fly, brother;—Torches! torches!—So, farewell.
[Exit Edgar.
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.
Glo.
Now, Edmund, where's the villain?
Edm.
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms.
Glo.
But where is he?
Edm.
Look, Sir, I bleed.
Glo.
Where is the villain, Edmund?
Edm.
Fled this way, Sir. When by no means he could—
Glo.
Pursue him, ho!—Go after.—(Exit Servants.) By no means,—what?
Edm.
Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;
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 frighted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
Glo.
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;
He, that conceals him, death.
[Trumpets within.
Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes!—
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.4 note
-- 32 --
Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.
Corn.
How now, my noble friend; since I came hither,
(Which I can call but now), I have heard strange news.
Reg.
What! did my father's godson seek your life?
He whom my father nam'd your heir? your Edgar?
Glo.
O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!
Edmund bewray'd his practice,5 note and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Corn.
Is he pursued?
Glo.
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 virtuous obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours.
Edm.
I shall serve you, Sir,
Truly, however else.
Glo.
I thank your grace.
Corn.
You know not why we came to visit you.—
Reg.
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;6 note the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business.
Glo.
I serve you, Madam:
Your graces are right welcome.
[Exeunt.
Enter Kent and Steward, severally.
Stew.
Good dawning to thee, friend: Art of the house?
Kent.
Ay.
Stew.
Where may we set our horses?
Kent.
I'the mire.
Stew.
Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me.
Kent.
I love thee not.
-- 33 --
Stew.
Why, then I care not for thee.
Kent.
If I had thee elsewhere, I would make thee care
for me.
Stew.
Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.
Kent.
Fellow, I know thee.
Stew.
What dost thou know me for?
Kent.
A slave; a rascal; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly
knave; a lily-liver'd, superserviceable, finical rogue; one that
art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward,
and pandar; a cur whom I will beat into clamorous whining,
if thou deny the least syllable of thy addition.7 note
Stew.
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:
draw, you barber-monger,8 note draw.
[Drawing his sword.
Stew.
Away; I have nothing to do with thee.
Kent.
Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against
the king: Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks:
—Draw you rascal.
Stew.
Help, oh! murder! help!
Kent.
Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand.
[Beating him.
Stew.
Help, oh! murder! murder!
Re-enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.
Edm.
How now? What's the matter? Part.
Corn.
Keep peace, upon your lives;
He dies, that strikes again: What is the matter?
Reg.
The messengers from our sister and the king.
Corn.
What is your difference? speak.
Stew.
I am scarce in breath, my lord.
-- 34 --
Kent.
No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valour. You
cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.
Corn.
Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
Stew.
This ancient ruffian, Sir, whose life I have spar'd,
At suit of his grey hairs.—
Kent.
My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread
this unbolted villain9 note into mortar.—Spare my grey hairs,
you wagtail?
Corn.
Peace, sirrah!
Know you no reverence?
Kent.
Yes, Sir; but anger has a privilege.
Corn.
Why art thou angry?
Kent.
That such a knave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty.
Corn.
Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence?
Kent.
His countenance likes me not.
Corn.
No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or 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.
Corn.
This is some fellow,
Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness.
What was the offence you gave him?
Stew.
Never any.
It pleas'd the king his master, very late,
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, thus flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthy'd him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdued,
And, in the fleshment10 note of this dread exploit,
-- 35 --
Drew on me here.
Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks, ho!
We'll teach you—
Kent.
Sir, I'm 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.
Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks:—
As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.
Reg.
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.
Reg.
Sir, being his knave, I will.
[Stocks brought out.11 note
Glo.
Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
The king must take it ill,
That he's so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.
Corn.
I'll answer that.
Reg.
My sister may receive it much more worse.
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs.
[Kent is put in the stocks.
Come, my good lord; away.
[Exeunt Regan and Cornwall.
Glo.
I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure.
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.
Glo.
The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken.
[Exit.
Kent.
Good king, that must approve the common saw!12 note
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun.
-- 36 --
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.13 note All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night; smile once more; turn thy wheel!
[He sleeps.
Scene II.
—A PART OF THE HEATH.
Enter Edgar.
Edg.
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;14 note
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars,(B)8Q0096 who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
-- 37 --
Pins, sharp skewers, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting15 note villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans,16 note sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity.—Poor Turlygood!(C)8Q0097 poor Tom!
That's something yet; Edgar I nothing am.17 note
[Exit.
Scene III.
—GLOSTER'S CASTLE, AS BEFORE.
Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.
Lear.
'Tis strange, that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger.
Gent.
As I learn'd,
The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.
Fool.
Nuncle, can'st tell how an oyster makes his shell?
Lear.
No. Ah, I did her wrong!—18 note
Fool.
Nor I either; 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.
Lear.
I will forget my nature. So kind a father!
Fool.
If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I would have thee
beaten for being old before thy time.
Lear.
How's that?
Fool.
Thou should'st not have been old, before thou
had'st been wise.
Lear.
O, let me not be mad—not mad—sweet Heaven!
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!
-- 38 --
Kent.
Hail to thee, noble master!
Lear.
How!
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
Kent.
No, my lord.
Fool.
Ha, ha; look! he wears cruel garters!
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;
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 highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post.
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress, salutations;
Deliver'd letters, on whose contents,
They 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.
-- 39 --
Fool.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that
way.19 note
(Singing.)
Fathers, that wear rags,
Do make their children blind;
But father's, that bear bags,
Shall see their children kind.
Lear.
O, how this mother(D)8Q0098 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.
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.
(Singing.)
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.
Kent.
Where learn'd you this, fool?
Fool.
Not i'the stocks, fool.
Re-enter Lear, with Gloster.
Lear.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches;
Bring me a better answer.
Glo.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke.
Lear.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.
Glo.
Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.
Lear.
Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man?
Glo.
Ay, my good lord.
-- 40 --
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 with 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 persuades me,
That this remotion20 note of the duke and her
Is practice only.21 note Give me my servant forth:
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at the chamber door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry, Sleep to death.22 note
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants.
Good morrow to you both.
Corn.
Hail to your grace!
[Kent is set at liberty.
Reg.
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 tomb,
Sepulch'ring an adultress. Beloved Regan,
-- 41 --
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.
Reg.
I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.23 note
Lear.
Say, how is that?
Reg.
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!
Reg.
O, Sir, you are old;
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.
Lear.
Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:24 note
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg
[Kneeling.
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.
Reg.
Good Sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks.
Return you to my sister.
Lear (rising).
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!
Reg.
O the blest gods!
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood's on.
-- 42 --
Lear.
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse;
Thy tender-hested nature25 note shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness: thou better knowest
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o' the kingdom has thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.
Reg.
Good Sir, to the purpose.
[Trumpets without.
Lear.
Who put my man i' the stocks?
Corn.
What trumpet's that?
Enter Steward.
Reg.
I know't, my sister's; this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.—Is your lady come?
Lear.
This slave again?
Out, varlet, from my sight!
Corn.
What means your grace?
Lear.
Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know of't.—Who comes here? O heavens,
Enter Goneril, attended.
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow26 note 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.
O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?
Gon.
Why not by the hand, Sir? How have I offended?
All's not offence that indiscretion finds,27 note
And dotage terms so.
Lear.
O, sides, you are too tough!
Reg.
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
-- 43 --
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 wage28 note against the enmity o' the air;
To be a comrade with the wolf, and howl
Necessity's sharp pinch.
Gon.
At you 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.
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.
Reg.
Not altogether so, Sir;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome.
Lear.
Is this well spoke now?
Reg.
What, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many?
Gon.
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
Reg.
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—
Reg.
And in good time you gave it.
Gon.
Hear me, my lord;
What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
-- 44 --
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?
Reg.
What need one?
Lear.
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest things superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's. But for true need,
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—
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,29 note
Or ere I'll weep:—O, fool, I shall go mad!
[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Fool. Storm heard at a distance.
END OF ACT SECOND.
-- 45 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT SECOND.
note
note
-- 46 --
note
note
-- 47 --
ACT III.
Scene I.
—A HEATH.
A Storm is heard, with Thunder and Lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, 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 element: note
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,2 note
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.
Kent.
But who is with him?
Gent.
None but the fool, who labours to out-jest
His heart-struck injuries.
Kent.
Sir, I do know you;
And dare, upon the warrant of my art,3 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 are at point
-- 48 --
To show their open banner. I pray you
Make your speed to Dover, where you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The king hath cause to plain.4 note
If you shall see Cordelia
(As fear not but you shall)5 note show her this ring;
And she will tell you who your fellow is6 note
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the king.
Gent.
Give me your hand. Have you no more to say?
Kent.
Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet;
That, when we have found the king (I'll this way,
You that) he that first lights on him,
Holla the other.
[Exeunt severally.
Scene II.
—ANOTHER PART OF THE HEATH—STORM CONTINUES.
Enter Lear and Fool.
Lear.
Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks—rage!—blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples:
You sulphurous and thought-executing7 note fires,
Vaunt-couriers8 note to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head. And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once,9 note
That make ingrateful man.
-- 49 --
Fool.
O, nuncle, in and ask thy daughters' blessing;
Here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools.
Lear.
Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness,
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription;10 note then let fall
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man;—
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!11 note
Fool.
He that has a house to put his head in,
Has a good head-piece.
Lear.
No, I will be the pattern of all patience,
I will say nothing.
Enter Kent.
Kent.
Who's there?
Fool.
A wise man, and a fool.
Kent.
Alas, Sir, are you here? Things that love night,
Love not such nights as these. 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.
Lear.
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother12 note 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;
That under covert and convenient seeming13 note
Hast practis'd on man's life. Close pent-up guilts,
-- 50 --
Rive your concealing continents,14 note and cry
These dreadful summoners grace.15 note I am a man,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Kent.
Alack, bare-headed.(A)8Q0099
Gracious, my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest;
Repose you there.
Lear.
My wits begin to turn.—
Come on, my boy. 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.
Fool. (singing.)
He that has a little tiny wit,—
With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit;
For the rain it raineth every day.16 note
Lear.
True, boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.
[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Scene III.
—A ROOM IN GLOSTER'S CASTLE.
Enter Gloster and Edmund.
Glo.
Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural
dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity
him, they took from me the use of mine own house;
charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither
to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.
Edm.
Most savage and unnatural.
Glo.
Go to, say you nothing. There is division between
the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have received
a letter this night;—'tis dangerous to be spoken;—I have
-- 51 --
lock'd the letter in my closet: these injuries the king now
bears will be revenged home; there is part of a power
already footed:17 note 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 threaten'd me, the king my old master must be
relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund;
pray you, be careful.
[Exit.
Edm.
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.
Scene IV.
—A PART OF THE HEATH, WITH A HOVEL.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Kent.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
[Storm still.
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.
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. The tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there.—Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
For lifting food to't?—But I will punish home:—
No, I will weep no more.—In such a night
To shut me out!—Pour on; I will endure:
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!—
-- 52 --
Your kind old father, whose frank heart gave all;—
O, that way madness lies: let me shun that;
No more of that,—
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Prythee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease;
In, boy; go first18 note (to the Fool). You houseless poverty,—
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.—
[Fool goes in.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness,19 note defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physick, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel;
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.
Edg. (within).
Fathom and half, fathom and half!20 note Poor
Tom!
The Fool runs out from the hovel.
Fool.
Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit.
Help me, help me!
Kent.
Give me thy hand.—Who's there?
Fool.
A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor Tom.
Kent.
What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw?
Come forth.
Enter Edgar, disguised as a madman.
Edg.
Away! the foul fiend follows me!—
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.—
Humph! go to thy bed, and warm thee.
Lear.
Hast thou given all to thy two daughters?
And art thou come to this?
-- 53 --
Edg.
Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul
fiend hath led through fire and through flame,21 note through
swamp and whirlpool over bog and quagmire; that hath
laid knives under his pillow,(B)8Q0100 and halters in his pew;
made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse
over four-inch'd bridges, to course his own shadow for a
traitor:—Bless thy five wits!22 note Tom's a-cold.—O, bless
thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking.23 note 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.
[Storm continues.
Lear.
What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?—
Could'st thou save nothing? Did'st thou give them all?
Kent.
He hath no daughters, Sir.
Lear.
Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd nature
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.24 note
Edg.
Pillicock25 note sat on pillicock's-hill;—
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!
Lear.
What hast thou been?
Edg.
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that
curl'd my hair;(C)8Q0101 wore gloves in my cap,26 note swore as many
oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face
-- 54 --
of heaven. False of heart, light of ear,27 note bloody of hand;
hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness,(D)8Q0102 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 pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. Still
through the hawthorn blows the cold wind. Ha no'nonny;—(E)8Q0103
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 uncover'd body this extremity of the 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 of us 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.
[Tearing off his clothes.
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented.
Kent.
Defend his wits, good heaven.
Lear.
What is your name?
Edg.
Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the wall-newt,
and the water-newt; 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 whipp'd from tything to tything;(F)8Q0104 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.(G)8Q0105
Beware, my follower:—Peace, Smolkin;28 note peace, thou fiend!
Lear.
To have a thousand with red burning spits
Come hissing in upon them.
Kent.
I feared it would come to this.
Edg.
Frateretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler
-- 55 --
in the lake of darkness;29 note pray, innocent,30 note and beware the
foul fiend.
Lear.
It shall be done; I will arraign them straight, most
learned justicer.—Arraign her first;—It's Goneril!
Edg.
My tears begin to take his part so much,
They mar my counterfeiting.
Lear.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanche, and Sweetheart,—see, they bark at me!
Edg.
Tom will throw his head at them:—Avaunt, you curs!
Be thy mouth or black, or white,
Tooth that poisons, if it bite;
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound, or spaniel, brache, or lym;31 note
Bob-tail tike,32 note or trundle tail;33 note
Tom will make 'em weep and wail:
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
See—see—see!—Let's march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns:—Poor Tom! thy horn is dry.(H)8Q0106
Kent.
How do you, Sir?—Stand you not so amaz'd:—
Will you go in?
Lear.
I'll see their trial first.—Bring in the evidence.
Kent.
All the power of his wits have given way to his
impatience.
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; but let them be changed.
Edg.
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet;(I)8Q0107 he begins
at curfew, and walks till the first cock.(K)8Q0108
-- 56 --
Saint Withold footed thrice the wold(L)8Q0109
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold,
'Twas there he did appoint her;
He bid her alight
And her troth plight,
And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee.
Fool.
Look, here comes a walking fire!
Enter Gloster, attended by two Servants with torches, and Men carrying a litter.
Glo.
What? has your grace no better company?
Edg.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman;34 note
Modo he is called, and Mahu.(M)8Q0110
Poor Tom's a cold!
Glo.
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 the 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.
What is the cause of thunder?
Kent.
Good, my lord, take his offer.
Lear.
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.—
What is your study?
Edg.
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear.
Let me ask you one word in private.
[Whispers in Edgar's ear.
Kent.
Importune him once more to go, my lord,
His wits begin to unsettle.
Glos.
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:
-- 57 --
This bedlam but disturbs him—
Fellow, begone.
Edg.
Child Rowland35 note to the dark tower came,
His word was still—fi, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
[Retires into hovel.
Kent.
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?
Glos.
Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy arms;
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him.
Here is a litter ready; lay him in't,
And drive towards 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, so.
[Falls asleep, and is placed by Kent and Gloster
in the litter, which is borne off by the servants.
END OF ACT THIRD.
-- 58 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT THIRD.
note
note
-- 59 --
note
note
note
-- 60 --
note
note
note
note
note
note -- 61 --
note
-- 62 --
ACT IV.
Scene I.
—BEFORE THE DUKE OF ALBANY'S PALACE.
Enter Goneril and Edmund, Steward meeting them.
Gon.
Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband1 note
Not met us on the way. Now, where's your master?
Stew.
Madam, within; but never man so chang'd.
I told him the army of France was landed;
He smil'd at it. I told him you were coming;
His answer was, The worse. Of Gloster's treachery,
And of the loyal service of his son,
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot;
And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out:—
What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him.
Gon.
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs,
Which tie him to an answer.
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; spare speech;
[Giving a favour
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edm.
Yours in the ranks of death.
Gon.
My most dear Edmund!
[Exit Edmund.
O, the difference of man and man! To thee
A woman's services are due; my fool
Usurps my hand.
Stew.
Madam, here comes my lord.
[Exit Steward.
-- 63 --
Enter Albany.
Alb.
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,
Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefited?
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
'Twill come,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.2 note
Gon.
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, sit'st still, and cry'st,
Alack! why does he so?
Alb.
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity3 note seems not in the fiend
So horrid, as in woman.
Enter Curan.
What news?
Cur.
O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead;
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The eyes of Gloster.
Alb.
Gloster's eyes!
Cur.
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:
-- 64 --
But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath pluck'd him after.
Alb.
O, poor Gloster! O cruel! cruel!
Cur.
My lord of Gloster held confederacy with the traitors
Late footed in the kingdom, and had conveyed the king,
With five or six-and-thirty of his knights,
In safety towards Dover, where they boast
To have well armed friends.
This letter, Madam, craves a speedy answer;
'Tis from your sister.
Gon. (aside.)
One way I like this well;4 note
But being widow, and my Edmund with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life:—I'll read, and answer.
[Exit.
Alb.
Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
Cur.
Come with my lady hither.
Alb.
He is not here.
Cur.
No, my good lord; he is gone back again.
Alb.
Knows he the wickedness?
Cur.
Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.
Alb.
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.
Scene II.
—THE HEATH.
Enter Edgar.
Edg.
Yes, better thus, unknown to be contemn'd,5 note
-- 65 --
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd.6 note To be worst,
The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance,7 note lives not in fear:8 note
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter.
But who comes here?—
Enter Gloster, led by an Old Man.
My father, poorly led?—World, world, O world!9 note
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yield to age.
Old Man.
O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and
your father's tenant, these fourscore years.
Glo.
Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee they may hurt.
Old Man.
Alack, Sir, you cannot see your way.
Glo.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw.—Ah, dear son Edgar,
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,10 note
I'd say I had eyes again.
Old Man.
How now? Who's there?
Edg. (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.
Glo.
Is it a beggar-man?
Old Man.
Madman and beggar too.
Glo.
He has some reason, else he could not beg.
-- 66 --
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:
How Edgar was abused. O, my follies!
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him.
Edg.
How should this be?
[Aside.
Bless thee, master!
Glo.
Is that the naked fellow?
Old Man.
Ay, my lord.
Glo.
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 to lead me.
Old Man.
Alack, Sir, he's mad.
Glo.
'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind:
Do as I bid thee.
Old Man.
I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have,
Come on't what will.
[Exit.
Glo.
Sirrah, naked fellow.
Edg.
Poor Tom's a-cold,—I cannot daub it further.12 note
[Aside.
Glo.
Come hither, fellow.
Edg. (aside.)
And yet I must.—Bless thy poor eyes.
Glo.
Know'st thou the way to Dover?
Edg.
Both stile and gate, horse-way, and foot-path.
Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits:
Bless thee, good man, from the foul fiend.
Glo.
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heaven's plagues
Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched,
Makes thee the happier.
Dost thou know Dover?
Edg.
Ay, master.
Glo.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
-- 67 --
Looks fearfully in the confined deep:13 note
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.
Edg.
Give me thy arm,
Poor Tom shall lead thee.
[Exeunt.
Scene III.
—A TENT.
Enter Cordelia as Queen of France, Physician, and several French Knights.
Cor.
Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud;
Crown'd with rank fumiter,14 note and furrow weeds,
With harlocks,15 note hemlock, nettles,cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel,16 note and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn.—A century send forth;17 note
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.]—What can man's wisdom do,
In the restoring his bereaved sense?
He that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phy.
There is means, Madam:
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,
The which he lacks: that to provoke in him,
Are many simples operative,18 note whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.
-- 68 --
Cor.
All bless'd secrets,
All 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.19 note
Enter a French Knight.
Knight.
Madam, news;
The British powers are marching hitherward.
Cor.
'Tis known before; our preparation stands
In expectation of them.—O, dear father,
It is thy business that I go about;
Therefore great France
My mourning, and important tears,20 note hath pitied.
No blown ambition21 note doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right.
[Exeunt.
Scene IV.
—THE COUNTRY NEAR DOVER, SHOWING A ROMAN ROAD AND AN ANCIENT OBELISK(A)8Q0111.
Enter Gloster, and Edgar, dressed like a Peasant.
Glo.
When shall we come to the top of that same hill?
Edg.
You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.
Glo.
Methinks the ground is even.
Edg.
Horrible steep:
Hark, do you hear the sea?
Glo.
No, truly.
Edg.
Why, then your other senses grow imperfect
By your eye's anguish.
Glo.
So may it be, indeed:
Methinks, thy voice is alter'd: and thou speak'st
In better phrase and matter, than thou didst.
Edg.
You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments.
Glo.
Methinks, you are better spoken.
-- 69 --
Edg.
Come on, Sir: here's the place:—stand still—How fearful
And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!22 note
The crows and choughs,23 note that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross24 note as beetles: Half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade!(B)8Q0112
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock,25 note a buoy,
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
Topple26 note down headlong.
Glo.
Set me where you stand.
Edg.
Give me your hand: You are now within a foot
Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.27 note
Glo.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, is another purse; in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking:
Go thou further off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Edg.
Now fare you well, good Sir.
[Seems to go.
Why I do trifle thus with his despair,
Is done to cure it.
Glo.
O you mighty gods!
This world I do renounce; and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If Edgar live, O, bless him!—
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
[He is about to leap forward.
-- 70 --
Edg.
Hold!—Who comes here?
Enter Lear, fantastically dressed up with flowers.
Lear.
No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the
king himself.
Edg.
O thou side-piercing sight!
Lear.
Nature's above art in that respect.—There's your
press money.(C)8Q0113 That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper:
(D)8Q0114 draw me a clothier's yard.28 note—Look, look, a
mouse! Peace, peace.—There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on
a giant.—Bring up the brown bills.29 note—O, well-flown, bird!30 note
—i'the clout, i'the clout,31 note hewgh!—Give the word.32 note
Edg.
Sweet marjoram.
Lear.
Pass.
Glo.
I know that voice.
Lear.
Ha! Goneril! with a white beard!—They flatter'd
me like a dog;33 note and told me, I had white hairs in my beard,
ere the black ones were there.34 note To say ay, and no, to
everything I said!—Ay and no too was no good divinity.
When the rain came to wet me35 note once, and the wind to make
me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding;
there I found them, there I smelt them out. Go to, they
are not men o'their words: they told me I was everything;
'tis a lie; I am not ague-proof.
Glo.
The trick36 note of that voice I do well remember:
Is't not the king?
-- 71 --
Lear.
Ay, every inch a king!
When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life: What was the cause?—
Adultery.—
Thou shalt not die: Die for adultery? No:
For Gloster's bastard son
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters
Got in the lawful bed.
To't, luxury,37 note pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.—
There's money for thee.
Glo.
O, let me kiss that hand!
Lear.
Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
Glo.
O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought.—Dost thou know me?
Lear.
I remember thine eyes well enough.—Read thou
this challenge; mark but the penning of it.
Glo.
Where all the letters suns, I could not see one.
Lear.
Read.—Read.
Glo.
What, with this case of eyes?
Lear.
O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your
head, nor no money in your purse? Yet you see how this
world goes.
Glo.
I see it feelingly.
Lear.
What, art mad? A man may see how this world
goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yon'
justice rails upon yon' simple thief?—Hark, in thine ear:
Change places; and, handy-dandy,38 note which is the justice,
which is the thief?—Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at
a beggar?
Glo.
Ay, Sir.
Lear.
And the creature run from the cur? There thou
might'st behold the great image of authority: a dog's
obeyed in office.—
The usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with gold,
-- 72 --
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal the accuser's lips.—Get thee glass eyes;
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.—Now, now, now, now:
Pull off my boots:—harder, harder; so.
Edg.
O, matter and impertinency 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,39 note and cry:—I will preach to thee; mark me.
Glo.
Alack, alack the day!
Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools.
Enter a Gentleman with Attendants.
Gent.
O, here he is; lay hand upon him.—Sir,
Your most dear daughter—
Lear.
No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune.—Use me well;
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon,
I am cut to the brains.
Gent.
You shall have any thing.
Lear.
No seconds? All myself?
Gent.
Good Sir,—
Lear.
I will die bravely like a bridegroom. What?
I will be jovial; come, come; I am a king,
My masters, know you that?
Gent.
You are a royal one, and we obey you.
Lear.
It were a delicate stratagem40 note to shoe
A troop of horse with felt:(E)8Q0115 I'll put it in proof;
And when I have stolen upon these sons'-in-law,
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.41 note
[Exit the King, Attendants following.
-- 73 --
Edg.
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch;
Past speaking of in a king.
Glo.
You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit42 note tempt me again
To die before you please!
Enter Steward.
Stew.
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:43 note The sword is out
That must destroy thee.
[Edgar opposes.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
Let go his arm.
Edg.
Chi'll not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion.
Stew.
Let go, slave, or thou diest.
Edg.
Good gentleman, go your gait,44 note 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, come not
near the old man; ise try whether your costard45 note or my bat46 note
be harder.
Stew.
Out, dunghill!
Edg.
Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: Come; no matter vor
your foins.47 note
[They fight; and the Steward is slain by Edgar.
Stew.
Slave, thou hast slain me.
Give the letter, which thou find'st about me,
To Edmund earl of Gloster. O, untimely death!
[Dies.
Edg.
I know thee well: A serviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As badness would desire.
-- 74 --
Glo.
What, is he dead?
Edg.
Let's see his pockets: this letter, that he speaks of,
May be my friend.—He's dead.—Let us see.
To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts;48 note
Their papers is more lawful.
(Reads)
“Let our reciprocal vows be remember'd. You
have many opportunities to cut Albany off: if your will
want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered, from
which deliver me, and accept my love for your labour.
“Your wife (so I would say), and your
affectionate servant,
“Goneril.”
O, unextinguish'd blaze of woman's will!—
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
And the exchange, my brother. In mature time,
With this ungracious paper I'll strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd duke. Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.
[Exeunt.
END OF ACT FOURTH.
-- 75 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FOURTH.
note
note
note
note -- 76 --
note
-- 77 --
ACT V.
Scene 1
A TENT IN THE FRENCH CAMP.
Lear on a bed, asleep; Cordelia, Physician, and others attending.
Cor.
O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father!1 note
Phy.
So please your majesty,
That we may wake the king? he hath slept long.
Cor.
Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I' the sway of your own will.
Phy.
In the heaviness of his sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.
When we do wake him
I doubt not of his temperance.
Cor.
O, my dear father! Restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made.
Phy.
Kind and dear princess!
Cor.
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
Mine enemy's dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire.
Phy.
Louder the music there.8Q0116
Cor.
He wakes; speak to him.
Phy.
Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.
-- 78 --
Cor.
How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
Lear.
You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave—
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
Cor.
Sir, do you know me?
Lear.
You are a spirit, I know. When did you die?
Cor.
Still, still, far wide!
Phy.
He's scarce awake.
Lear.
Where have I been?—Where am I?—Fair daylight!
I am mightily abus'd.2 note—I should even die with pity,
To see another thus.—I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands:
Would I were assur'd of my condition.
Cor.
O, look upon me, Sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:
No, Sir; you must not kneel.
Lear.
Pray do not mock me:
I am a very foolish, fond old man,
Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me:
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
Cor.
And so I am, I am.
Lear.
Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
You have some cause, they have not.
Cor.
No cause, no cause.
Lear.
Am I in France?
-- 79 --
Phy.
In your own kingdom, Sir.
Lear.
Do not abuse me.
Phy.
Be comforted, good Madam: the great rage,3 note
You see, is cur'd in him.
Cor.
Wil't please your highness walk?
Lear.
You must bear with me:
Pray now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.
[Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and Attendants.
Scene II.
—THE CAMP OF THE BRITISH FORCES
NEAR DOVER, WITH DISTANT VIEW OF THE SAXON CASTLE.
Enter Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers, and others.
Edm.
Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold;
Or, whether since he is advis'd by aught
To change the course. He's full of alteration,
And self-reproving;—bring his constant pleasure.4 note
[To an Officer who goes out.
Reg.
Our sister's man is certainly miscarried.
Edm.
'Tis to be doubted, Madam.
Reg.
Now, sweet lord,
You know the goodness I intend upon you.
Tell me—but truly—but then speak the truth,
Do you not love my sister?
Edm.
In honour'd love.
Reg.
I never shall endure her, dear my lord.
Edm.
Fear me not—
She, and the duke her husband,—
Enter Albany, Goneril, and Soldiers.
Alb.
Our very loving sister, well be met—
Sir, this I hear—the king is come to his daughter,
With others, whom the rigour of our state
-- 80 --
Forc'd to cry out. France invades our land;
Let us then determine
With the ancient of war on our proceedings.
Edm.
I shall attend you presently at your tent.
[As they are going out, enter Edgar disguised.
Edg.
If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor,
Hear me one word.
Alb.
I'll overtake you.—Speak.
[Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants.
Edg.
Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
For him that brought it: wretched though I seem,
I can produce a champion, that will prove
What is avouched there: If you miscarry,
Your business of the world hath so an end,
And machination ceases.5 noteFortune love you!
Alb.
Stay till I have read the letter.
Edg.
I was forbid it.
When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,
And I'll appear again.
[Exit.
Alb.
Why, fare thee well; I will o'erlook thy paper.
Re-enter Edmund.
Edm.
The enemy's in view, draw up your powers.
Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
By diligent discovery; but your haste
Is now urg'd on you.
Alb.
We will greet the time.6 note
[Exit.
Edm.
To both these sisters have I sworn my love;
Each jealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
Both, one, or neither? To take the widow,
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
-- 81 --
And hardly shall I carry out my side,7 note
Her husband being alive. Now then, we'll use
His countenance for the battle: which being done,
Let her, who would be rid of him, devise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia,—
The battle done, and they within our power,
Shall never see his pardon: for my state
Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
[Exit.
ALARUMS OF DISTANT BATTLE.
Re-enter, in conquest, Edmund, Officers, Soldiers, &c., Lear, and Cordelia, as prisoners.
Edm.
Some officers take them away: good guard;
Until their greater pleasures first be known
That are to censure them.8 note
Cor.
We are not the first,
Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst.9 note
For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;
Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.—
Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters?
Lear.
No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i'the cage:
When thou dost ask my blessing, I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: So we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales,
And we'll wear out
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects10 note of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.
Edm.
Take them away.
Lear.
Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?
-- 82 --
He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven.
Wipe thine eyes;
We'll see them starve, ere they shall make us weep;
Come, come.
[Exeunt Lear and Cordelia guarded.
Edm.
Come hither, captain; hark.
Take thou this note11 note (giving a paper); go, follow them to prison:
One step I have advanc'd thee; if thou dost
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
To noble fortunes: Thy great employment12 note
Will not bear question;13 note either say, thou'lt do it,
Or thrive by other means.
Off.
I'll do't, my lord.
Edm.
About it; and write happy, when thou hast done.
Mark,—I say, instantly; and carry it so,
As I have set it down.
Off.
If it be man's work, I will do it.
[Exit Officer.
Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Officers, and Attendants.
Alb.
Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain,
And fortune led you well: You have the captives
Who were the opposites of this day's strife:
We do require them of you; so to use them,
As we shall find their merits and our safety
May equally determine.
Edm.
Sir, I thought it fit
To send the old and miserable king
To some retention, and appointed guard;
Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
To pluck the common bosom on his side.14 note
With him I sent the queen;
-- 83 --
My reason all the same; and they are ready
To-morrow, or at further space, to appear
Where you shall hold your session.
Alb.
Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother.
Reg.
That's as we list to grace him.
General, take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;
Dispose of them, of me; all are thine:
Witness the world, that I create thee here
My lord and master.
Gon.
Mean you to wed him?
Alb.
The let-alone lies not in your good will.15 note
Edm.
Nor in thine, lord.
Alb.
Half-blooded fellow, yes.
Reg.
Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.
[To Edmund.
Alb.
Stay yet; hear reason:—Edmund, I arrest thee
On capital treason; and, in thy arrest,
This gilded serpent (pointing to Goneril)—for your claim, fair sister,
I bar it in the interest of my wife;
'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
Thou art arm'd Gloster. Let the trumpet sound:
If none appear to prove upon thy person,
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
I'll prove it on thy heart,
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
Than I have here proclaim'd thee.
Reg.
Sick, O, sick!
Gon.
If not, I'll ne'er trust poison.
[Aside.
Alb.
She is not well; convey her to my tent.
[Exit Regan, led.
Edm.
What in the world he is
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies:
Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
-- 84 --
On him, on you (who not?) I will maintain
My truth and honour firmly.
Alb.
A herald, ho!
[Enter Herald.
Trust to thy single virtue;16 note for thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name
Took their discharge.
Come hither, herald,—Let the trumpet sound,—
And read out this.
Her.
Sound, trumpet.
[A trumpet sounds.
Herald reads.
“If any man of quality, or degree, within the lists of the
army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloster,
that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear at the third
sound of the trumpet: He is bold in his defence.”
Edm.
Sound.
[1 trumpet.
Her.
Again.
[2 trumpet.
Her.
Again.
[3 trumpet.
[Trumpet answers within.
Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a trumpet.
Alb.
Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Upon this call o' the trumpet.
Her.
What are you?
Your name, your quality? and why you answer
This present summons?
Edg.
Know, my name is lost;
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit:
Yet am I noble, as the adversary
I come to cope withal.
Alb.
Which is that adversary?
Edg.
What's he, that speaks for Edmund earl of Gloster?
Edm.
Himself;—What say'st thou to him?
Edg.
Draw thy sword;
That, if my speech offend a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice; here is mine.17 note
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
-- 85 --
My oath, and my profession.18 note
I protest,—
Maugre19 note thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune,
Thy valour, and thy heart,—thou art a traitor;
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince;
And, from the extremest upward of thy head,
To the descent and dust beneath thy feet,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No,
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest.
Edm.
In wisdom, I should ask thy name;20 note
But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue some say21 note of breeding breathes,
What safe and nicely22 note I might well delay
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn;
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart!
Which (for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise),
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
Where they shall rest for ever.23 note—Trumpets, speak.
[Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls.(B)8Q0117
Alb.
O save him, save him!
-- 86 --
Gon.
This is mere practice,24 note Gloster:
Thou art not vanquish'd,
But cozen'd and beguil'd.
Alb.
Shut your mouth, dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it:—
No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.
[Gives the letter to Edmund.
Gon.
Say, if I do,
Who shall arraign me for't?
Alb.
Most monstrous!
Know'st thou this paper?
Gon.
Ask me not what I know.
[Exit Goneril.
Alb.
Go after her: she's desperate; govern her.
[To an Officer, who goes out.
Edm.
What you have charg'd me with, that have I done;
'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou,
That hast this fortune on me? If thou art noble,
I do forgive thee.
Edg.
Let's exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to scourge us.
Edm.
Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true;
The wheel is come full circle; I am here.
Alb.
Methought, thy very gait did prophecy
A royal nobleness.
Enter Curan hastily.
Gent.
My lord, my lord!
Alb.
Speak, man, speak.
Gent.
Your lady, Sir, your lady is no more; and her sister
By her is poison'd; she confessed it—
And after slew herself.
Alb.
This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble,
Touches us not with pity.
-- 87 --
Enter Kent.
Kent.
I am come,
To bid my king and master aye25 note good night;
Is he not here?
Alb.
Great thing of us forgot!—
Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia?
Edm.
I pant for life:—Some good I mean to do,
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,—
Be brief in it,—to the castle; for my writ
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:—
Nay, send in time.
Edg.
To whom, my lord? Who has the office? send
Thy token of reprieve.
Edm.
Well thought on; take my sword,
Give it the captain.
Alb.
Haste thee, for thy life.
[Exit Edgar and Kent.
Edm.
He hath commission from thy wife and me
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
To lay the blame upon her own despair,
That she fordid herself.26 note
Alb.
The gods defend her! Bear him hence.
[Edmund is borne off.
Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his arms; Edgar, Kent, Officer, and others.
Lear.
Howl, howl, howl, howl!—O, you are men of stones;
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
That heaven's vault should crack: O, she is gone for ever!
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
She's dead as earth;—Lend me a looking-glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.
Kent.
Is this the promis'd end?
-- 88 --
Edg.
Or image of that horror?27 note
Alb.
Fall and cease!28 note
Lear.
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.
Kent.
O, my good master.
[Kneeling.
Lear.
Pr'ythee, away.
Edg.
'Tis noble Kent, your friend.
Lear.
A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever!—
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little! Ha!
What is't thou say'st?—Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low;
I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee.
Off.
'Tis true, my lords, he did.
Lear.
Did I not, fellow?
I have seen the day, with my good biting faulchion,
I would have made them skip. I am old now,
And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you?
Mine eyes are none o'the best.
Kent.
Your servant Kent,
That, from your first of difference and decay,29 note
Have follow'd your sad steps.
Lear.
You are welcome hither.
Kent.
Nor no man else;30 note all's cheerless, dark, and deadly.—
Your eldest daughters have fore-doom'd themselves,
And desperately are dead.
Lear.
Ay, so I think.
Alb.
He knows not what he says; and vain it is
That we present us to him.
-- 89 --
Edg.
O, see, see!
Lear.
And my poor fool is hang'd!31 note No, no, no life:
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all?32 note
O, wilt come no more.
Never, never, never, never, never!—
Pray you, undo this button.33 note Thank you, Sir.—
Do you see this? Look on her,—look,—her lips,—
Look there,—look there!
[He dies.
Alb.
He faints—my lord—my lord!
Kent.
Vex not his ghost. Oh! let him pass! he hates him
That would upon the rack of this tough world
Stretch him out longer.
[Curtain descends, with a dead march.
END OF ACT FIFTH.
-- 90 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FIFTH.
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