SCENE II.
Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants.
Lear.
Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Glo'ster.
Glo.
I shall, my Liege.
[Exit.
Lear.
Meantime we shall 3 noteexpress our darker purpose.
-- 5 --
Give me the Map here. Know, we have divided,
In three, our Kingdom; 4 note
and 'tis our first intent,
To shake all cares and business from our age;
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburthen'd crawl tow'rd death. Our son of Cornwall,
And You, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters sev'ral Dow'rs, that future strife
May be prevented now. The Princes France and Burgundy,
Great rivals in our younger daughter's love,
Long in our Court have made their am'rous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, daughters,
(Since now we will divest us, both of rule,
Int'rest of territory, cares of state;)
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend,
Where nature doth with merit challenge. Gonerill,
Our eldest born, speak first.
Gon.
I love you, Sir,
Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour:
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found.
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable,
5 noteBeyond all manner of so much I love you.
-- 6 --
Cor.
What shall Cordelia do? love and be silent.
[Aside.
Lear.
Of all these Bounds, ev'n from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champions rich'd,
With plenteous rivers 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 of Cornwall? speak.
Reg.
I'm made of that self-metal as my sister,
And prize me at her worth, in my true Heart.
I find, she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short: that I profess
My self an enemy to all other joys,
6 noteWhich the most precious square of sense possesses;
And find, I am alone felicitate
In your dear Highness' love.
Cor.
Then poor Cordelia!
[Aside.
And yet not so, since, I am sure, my love's
7 noteMore pond'rous than my tongue.
Lear.
To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair Kingdom;
8 noteNo less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that confer'd on Gonerill—Now our joy,
Although our last, not least; to whose young love,
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Strive to be int'ress'd: what say you, to draw
-- 7 --
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, no more nor less.
Lear.
How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech a little,
Lest you may mar your fortunes.
Cor.
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me. I
Return those duties back, as are right fit;
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say,
They love you, all? hap'ly, 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,
9 noteTo love my father all.—
Lear.
But goes thy heart with this?
Cor.
Ay, my good lord.
Lear.
So young, and so untender?
Cor.
So young, my lord, and true.
Lear.
Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dower:
For by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night,
By all the operations of the orbs,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity, and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
-- 8 --
Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barb'rous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation messes,
To gorge his appetite; shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,
As thou, my sometime daughter.
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 nurs'ry. Hence, avoid my sight!—
[To Cor.
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 the third.
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my Power,
Preheminence, and all the large effects
That troop with Majesty. Our self by monthly course,
With reservation of an hundred Knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns: 1 note
only retain
The name and all th' addition to a King:
The sway, revenue, execution of th' Hest,
Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,
-- 9 --
This Cor'onet 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,
And as my patron thought on in my pray'rs—
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?
Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak,
When pow'r to flatt'ry bows? to plainness Honour
Is bound, when Majesty to folly falls.
Reserve thy State; with better judgment check
This hideous rashness; with my life I answer,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness.
Lear.
Kent, on thy life no more.
Kent.
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thy foes; nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive.
Lear.
Out of my sight!
Kent.
See better, Lear, and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.
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.
Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow
Upon the foul disease; revoke thy doom,
-- 10 --
Or whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee, thou dost evil.
Lear.
Hear me, recreant!
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
Which we durst never yet; and with strain'd pride,
2 noteTo come betwixt our sentence and our power;
3 note
Which nor our nature, nor our place, can bear,
Our potency make good; take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee for provision,
To shield thee from disasters of the world;
And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back
Upon our Kingdom; if, 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; sith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here;
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
That justly think'st, and hast most righitly said;
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
That good effects may spring from words of love:
Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adieu,
He'll shape his old course in a country new.
[Exit.
-- 11 --
Enter Glo'ster, with France and Burgundy, and Attendants.
Glo.
Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
Lear.
My lord of Burgundy,
We first address towr'd you, who with this King
Have rivall'd for our daughter; what at least
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?
Bur.
Most royal Majesty,
I crave no more than what your Highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less.
Lear.
Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we held her so;
But now her price is fall'n: Sir, there she stands,
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it with our displeasure piec'd,
And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,
She's there, and she is yours.
Bur.
I know no answer.
Lear.
Will you with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?
Bur.
Pardon, royal Sir;
Election makes not up on such conditions.
Lear.
Then leave her, Sir; for by the pow'r 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,
5 noteT' avert your liking a more worthy way
Than on a wretch, whom nature is asham'd
Almost t' acknowledge hers.
France.
This is most strange!
-- 12 --
That she, who ev'n but now was your best object,
Your Praise's argument, balm of your age,
Dearest and best; should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour! sure, her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree,
That monsters it; or your fore-vouch'd affection
Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me.
Cor.
I yet beseech your Majesty,
(If, for I want that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
I'll do't before I speak) that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour:
But ev'n for want of that, for which I'm richer,
A still-solliciting eye, and such a tongue,
That I am glad I've not; though, not to have it,
Hath lost me in your liking.
Lear.
Better thou
Hadst not been born, than not have pleas'd me better.
France.
Is it but this? a tardiness in nature,
Which often leaves the history unspoke,
That it intends to do? my lord of Burgundy,
What say you to the lady? love's not love,
When it is mingled with regards, that stand
Aloof 5 notefrom th' intire point. Say, will you have her?
She is herself a dowry.
Bur.
Royal King,
Give but that portion which your self propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Dutchess of Burgundy.
Lear.
Nothing:—I've sworn.
-- 13 --
Bur.
I'm sorry then, you have so lost a father,
That you must lose a husband.
Cor.
Peace be with Burgundy,
Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
France.
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't lawful, I take up what's cast away.
Gods, Gods! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to enflam'd respect.
Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is Queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the Dukes of wat'rish Burgundy
Can buy this unpriz'd, precious, maid of me.
Bid them farewel, Cordelia, tho' unkind;
Thou losest here, a better where to find.
Lear.
Thou hast her, France; let her be thine, for we
Have no such daughter; nor shall ever see
That face of hers again; therefore be gone
Without our grace, our love, our benizon:
Come, noble Burgundy.
[Flourish. Exeunt Lear and Burgundy.
SCENE IV.
France.
Bid farewel to your sisters.
Cor.
Ye jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
Cordelia leaves you: I know what you are,
And, like a sister, am most loth to call
Your faults, as they are nam'd. Love 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 farewel to you both.
-- 14 --
Reg.
Prescribe not us our duty.
Gon.
Let your study
Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you
At fortune's alms; you have obedience scanted,
6 note
And well are worth the Want that you have vaunted.
Cor.
Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides,
Who covers faults, at last with shame derides.
Well may you prosper!
France.
Come, my fair Cordelia.
[Exeunt France and Cordelia.
SCENE V.
Gon.
Sister, it is not little I've to say,
Of what most nearly appertains to us both;
I think our father will go hence to night.
Reg.
That's certain, and with you; next month
with us.
Gon.
You see how full of change his age is, the
observation we have made of it hath not been little;
he always lov'd our sister most, and with what poor
judgment he hath now cast her off, appears too grossly.
Reg.
'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever
but slenderly known himself.
Gon.
The best and soundest of his time hath been
but rash; then must we look, from his age, to receive
not alone the imperfections of long-engrafted condition,
but therewithal the unruly waywardness, that infirm
and cholerick years bring with them.
Reg.
Such unconstant starts are we like to have
from him, as this of Kent's banishment.
Gon.
There is further complement of leave-taking
between France and him; pray you, let us hit together:
-- 15 --
if our father carry Authority with such disposition
as he bears, this last surrender of his will but
offend us.
Reg.
We shall further think of it.
Gon.
We must do something, and i'th' heat.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Changes to a Castle belonging to the Earl of Glo'ster.
Enter Edmund, with a Letter.
Edm.
7 noteThou, Nature, art my Goddess; to thy law
My services are bound; wherefore should I
8 note
Stand in the Plage of custom, and permit
9 noteThe (a) note curtesie of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a Brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
-- 16 --
My mind as gen'rous, and my shape as true,
As honest Madam's issue? why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
&wlquo;1 noteWho, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
&wlquo;More composition and fierce quality;
&wlquo;Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
&wlquo;Go to creating a whole tribe of fops,
&wlquo;Got 'tween a-sleep and wake?&wrquo; Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land;
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,
As to th' legitimate; fine word—legitimate—
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
2 note
Shall be th' legitimate.—I grow, I prosper;
-- 17 --
3 noteNow, Gods, stand up for bastards!
SCENE VII.
To him, Enter Glo'ster.
Glo.
Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted!
And the King gone to night! 4 notesubscrib'd his pow'r!
Confin'd to exhibition! all is gone
Upon the gad!—Edmund, how now? what news?
Edm.
So please your lordship, none.
[Putting up the letter.
Glo.
Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?
Edm.
I know no news, my lord.
Glo.
What paper were you reading?
Edm.
Nothing, my lord.
Glo.
No! what needed then that terrible dispatch of
it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath not
such need to hide itself. Let's see; come if it be nothing,
I shall not need spectacles.
Edm.
I beseech you, Sir, pardon me, it is a letter
from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read; and
for so much as I have perus'd, I find it not fit for your
overlooking.
Glo.
Give me the letter, Sir.
Edm.
I shall offend, either to detain, or give it; the
contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.
Glo.
Let's see, let's see.
Edm.
I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote
this but as an essay, or taste of my virtue.
-- 18 --
Glo. [reads.]
5 noteThis policy and reverence of ages 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 bondage in the oppression of
aged tyranny; which 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 wak'd him, you
should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved
of your brother Edgar.—Hum—Conspiracy!
—sleep, till I wake him—you should enjoy
half his revenue—My son Edgar! had he a hand
to write this! a heart and brain to breed it in! When
came this to you? who brought it?
Edm.
It was not brought me, my lord; there's the
cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement
of my closet.
Glo.
You know the character to be your brother's?
Edm.
If the matter were good, my lord, I durst
swear, it were his; but in respect of that, I would
fain think, it were not.
Glo.
It is his.
Edm.
It is his hand, my lord; I hope, his heart is
not in the contents.
Glo.
Has he never before sounded you in this business?
Edm.
Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft
maintain it to be fit, that sons at perfect age, and fathers
declining, the father should be as a ward to the
son, and the son manage his revenue.
Glo.
O villain, villain! his very opinion in the
letter. Abhorred villain! unnatural, detested, brutish
villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah, seek
-- 19 --
him; I'll apprehend him. Abominable villain, where
is he?
Edm.
I do not well know, my lord; if it shall
please you to suspend your indignation against my
brother, 'till you can derive from him better testimony
of his intent, you should run a certain course;
where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking
his purpose, it would make a great gap in your
own honour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience.
I dare pawn down my life for him, that he
hath writ this to feel my affection to your Honour,
and to no other 6 notepretence of danger.
Glo.
Think you so?
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.
He cannot be such a monster.
Edm.
Nor is not, sure.
Glo.
To his Father, that so tenderly and entirely
loves him—Heav'n and Earth! Edmund seek
him out; wind me into him, I pray you; frame the
business after your own wisdom. 7 noteI would unstate
myself, to be in a due resolution.
Edm.
I will seek him, Sir, presently: 8 noteconvey
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; tho' the wisdom of nature can
reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourg'd
-- 20 --
by the sequent effects. &wlquo;Love cools, friendship falls
off, brothers divide. In cities, mutinies; in countries,
discord; in Palaces, treason; and the bond
crack'd 'twixt son and father.&wrquo; This villain of mine
comes under the prediction, there's son against father;
the King falls from biass of nature; there's father against
child. &wlquo;We have seen the best of our time. Machinations,
hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders
follow us disquietly to our graves!&wrquo; 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. 'Tis strange.
[Exit.
SCENE VIII.
Manet Edmund.
&wlquo;Edm.
&wlquo;9 note
This is the excellent foppery of the world,
that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeits
-- 21 --
of our own behaviour) we make guilty of our
disasters, the sun, the moon and stars, as if we
were villains on necessity; fools, by heavenly compulsion;
-- 22 --
knaves, thieves, and treacherous, by spherical
predominance; drunkards, lyars, and adulterers,
by an inforc'd obedience of planetary influence;
and all that we are evil in, by a divine
thrusting on. 1 noteAn admirable evasion of whore-master
Man, to lay his goatish disposition on the
change of a star! my father compounded with my
mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity
was under Ursa major; so that it follows, I am
-- 23 --
rough and lecherous. I should have been what I
am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament
twinkled on my bastardizing.&wrquo;
SCENE IX.
To him, Enter Edgar.
Pat!—2 note“he comes like the Catastrophe of the old
comedy;” my cue is villainous Melancholy, with
-- 24 --
a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam—O, these eclipses portend
these divisions! fa, sol, la, me—
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.
Edg.
Do you busie yourself with that?
Edm.
I promise you, the effects, he writes of, succeed
unhappily. When saw you my father last?
Edg.
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 have offended
him: and at my intreaty, forbear his presence, until
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, have a continent
forbearance 'till the speed of his rage goes slower:
and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from
whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak:
pray you, go, there's my key: if you do stir abroad,
go arm'd.
Edg.
Arm'd, brother!
Edm.
Brother, I advise you to the best; I am no
honest man, if there be any good meaning toward
you: I have told you what I have seen and heard, but
-- 25 --
faintly; nothing like the image and horror of it: pray
you, away.
Edg.
Shall I hear from you anon?
[Exit.
SCENE X.
Edm.
I do serve you in this business:
A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty
My practices ride easie: 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 XI.
The Duke of Albany's Palace.
Enter Gonerill and Steward.
Gon.
Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?
Stew.
Ay, madam.
Gon.
By day and night, he wrongs me; every hour
He flashes into one gross crime or other,
That sets us all at odds; I'll not endure it:
His Knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
On ev'ry trifle. When he returns from hunting
I will not speak with him; say, I am sick.
If you come slack of former services,
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.
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 distaste it, let him to my sister,
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-rul'd: Idle old Man,
-- 26 --
That still would manage those Authorities,
That he hath giv'n away!—Now, by my Life,
3 note
Old Folks are Babes again; and must be used
With Checks, not Flatt'ries when they're seen abus'd.
Remember, what I have said.
Stew.
Very well, Madam.
Gon.
And let his Knights have colder looks among
you: what grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows
so: I'll write strait to my sister to hold my
course: prepare for dinner.
[Exeunt.
-- 27 --
SCENE XII.
Changes to an open Place before the Palace.
Enter Kent disguis'd.
Kent.
If but as well I other accents borrow,
And can my speech diffuse, my good intent
May carry thro' itself to that full issue,
For which I raz'd my likeness. 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 within. Enter Lear, Knights and Attendants.
Lear.
Let me not stay a jot for dinner, go, get it ready:
How now, what art thou?
[To Kent.
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 honest; to converse with 4 notehim that is wise; to
say little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot
chuse, 5 noteand to eat no fish.
-- 28 --
Lear.
What art thou?
Kent.
A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor
as the King.
Lear.
If thou beest as poor for a subject, as he is
for a King, thou art poor enough. What would'st
thou?
Kent.
Service.
Lear.
Whom 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 counsels, ride, run, marr 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 doat on her for any thing. I
have years on my back forty eight.
Lear.
Follow me, thou shalt serve me; if I like
thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee
yet. Dinner, ho, dinner—where's my knave? my
fool? go you, and call my fool hither. You, you,
sirrah, where's my daughter?
-- 29 --
Enter Steward.
Stew.
So please you—
[Exit.
Lear.
What says the fellow there? call the clot-pole
back: where's my fool, ho?—I think the
world's asleep: how now? where's that mungrel?
Knight.
He says, my lord, your daughter is not
well.
Lear.
Why came not the slave back to me when I
call'd him!
Knight.
Sir, he answer'd me in the roundest manner,
he would not.
Lear.
He would not?
Knight.
My lord, I know not what the matter is;
but, to my Judgment, your Highness is not entertain'd
with that ceremonious affection as you were wont;
there's a great abatement of kindness appears as well
in the general dependants, as in the Duke himself also,
and your daughter.
Lear.
Ha! say'st thou so?
Knight.
I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be
mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent, when I think
your Highness is wrong'd.
Lear.
Thou but remember'st me of my own conception.
I have perceiv'd a most faint neglect of late,
which I have rather blamed as my own jealous curiosity,
than as a very 6 notepretence and purpose of unkindness;
I will look further into't; but where's my
fool? I have not seen him these two days.
Knight.
Since my young lady's going into France,
Sir, the fool hath much pined away.
Lear.
No more of that, I have noted it well; go
you and tell my daughter, I would speak with her.
-- 30 --
Go you, call hither my fool. O, you, Sir, come you
hither, Sir; who am I, Sir?
Enter Steward.
Stew.
My lady's father.
Lear.
My lady's father? my lord's knave!—you
whorson dog, you slave, you cur.
Stew.
I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your
pardon.
Lear.
Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
[Striking him.
Stew.
I'll not be struck, my lord.
Kent.
Nor tript neither, you base foot-ball player.
[Tripping up his heels.
Lear.
I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and
I'll love thee.
Kent.
Come, Sir, arise, away; I'll teach you differences:
away, away; if you will measure your lubber's
length again, tarry again; but away, go to:
have you wisdom? so.—
[Pushes the Steward out.
Lear.
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee;
there's earnest of thy service.
SCENE XIII.
To them, Enter Fool.
Fool.
Let me hire him too, here's my coxcomb.
[Giving his cap.
Lear.
How now, my pretty knave? how do'st
thou?
Fool.
Sirrah, you were best 7 notetake my coxcomb.
Kent.
Why, my boy?
-- 31 --
Fool.
Why? for taking one's part, that is out of favour;
nay, as thou canst not smile as the wind sits,
thoul't catch cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb;
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. How
now, uncle? would, I had two coxcombs, and two
daughters.
Lear.
Why, my boy?
Fool.
If I give them all my living, I'll keep my
coxcomb myself; there's mine, beg another of thy
daughters.
Lear.
Take heed, Sirrah, the whip—
Fool.
Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be
whipp'd out, when the lady brach may stand by th' fire
and stink.
Lear.
A pestilent gall to me.
Fool.
Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.
[To Kent.
Lear.
Do.
Fool.
Mark it, nuncle;
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
8 noteLearn more than thou trowest,
Set less than thou throwest,
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep within door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tents note to a score.
Kent.
This is nothing, fool.
Fool.
Then it is like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer,
you gave me nothing for't; can you make no use of
nothing, nuncle?
-- 32 --
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, my boy, between
a bitter fool and a sweet one?
Lear.
No, lad, teach me.
Fool.
That Lord, that counsel'd thee to give away thy Land,
Come, place him here by me! do Thou for him stand;
The sweet and bitter Fool will presently appear,
The One in motely here; the Other found out there.
Lear.
Dost thou call me fool, boy?
&plquo;Fool.
&plquo;All thy other titles thou hast given away;
that thou wast born with.&prquo;
&plquo;Kent.
&plquo;This is not altogether fool, my lord.&prquo;
&plquo;Fool.
&plquo;No, faith; Lords, and great men will not
let me; 9 noteif I had a monopoly on't, they would
have part on't: nay, the Ladies too, they'll not let
me have all fool to myself, they'll be snatching.&prquo;
Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.
Lear.
What two crowns shall they be?
Fool.
Why, after I have cut the egg i'th' middle
and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg; when
thou clovest thy Crown i'th' middle and gav'st away
both parts, thou bor'st thine ass on thy back o'er the
dirt; thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when
thou gav'st thy golden one away: if I speak like my
self in this, 1 notelet him be whip'd that first finds it
sooth.
-- 33 --
Fools ne'er had less grace in a year,
[Singing.
For wise men are grown foppish;
And know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.
Lear.
When were you wont to be so full of songs,
sirrah?
Fool.
I have used it, nuncle, e'er since thou mad'st
thy daughters thy mothers; for when thou gav'st
them the rod, and put'st down thy own breeches,
Then they for sudden joy did weep,
[Singing.
And I for sorrow sung;
That such a King should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a school-master that can teach
thy fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie.
Lear.
If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipt.
Fool.
I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters
are: they'll have me whipt for speaking true, thoul't
have me whipt for lying; and, sometimes, I am whipt
for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind
o'thing than a fool, and yet I would not be thee,
nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o'both sides, and left
nothing i'th' middle: here comes one o'th' parings.
SCENE XIV.
To them, Enter Gonerill.
Lear.
How now, daughter, what makes that frontlet
on? you are too much of late i'th' frown.
Fool.
Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou hadst
no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an
O without a figure; I am better than thou art now;
-- 34 --
I am a fool, thou art nothing.—Yes, forsooth, I
will hold my tongue; [To Gonerill.] so your face
bids me, tho' you say nothing.
Mum, mum, he that keeps nor crust nor crum,
[Singing.
Weary of all, shall want some.
2 noteThou art a sheal'd peascod.
[Speaking to Lear.
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.
I thought, by making this well known unto you,
T' have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,
By what yourself too late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, 3 noteand put it on
By your allowance; if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep;
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence,
(Which else were shame,) that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding.
Fool.
For you know, nuncle,
The hedge-sparrow fed the Cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its Young;
So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
Lear.
Are you our daughter?
Gon.
I would, you would make use of your good wisdom,
Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away
These dispositions, which of late transport you
From what you rightly are.
-- 35 --
Fool.
May not an Ass know when the cart draws
the horse? whoop, Jug, I love thee.
Lear.
Does any here know me? this is not Lear:
Does Lear walk thus? speak thus? where are his eyes?
Either his notion weakens, his discernings
Are lethargied—Ha! waking—'tis not so;
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
Lear's shadow? I would learn; 4 note
for by the marks
Of sovereignty of knowledge, and of reason,
I should be false persuaded I had daughters.
Your name, fair gentlewoman?—
Gon.
This admiration, Sir, is much o'th' savour
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you,
To understand my purposes aright.
* noteYou, as you're old and reverend, 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,
Shews like a riotous Inn; Epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel,
5 noteThan a grac'd Palace. Shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy. Be then desir'd
By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
-- 36 --
6 noteOf fifty to disquantity your train;
And the remainders, * notethat shall still depend,
To be such men as may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.
Lear.
Darkness and devils!
Saddle my horses, call my train together.—
Degen'rate bastard! I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter.
Gon.
You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters.
SCENE XV.
To them, Enter Albany.
Lear.
Woe! that too late repents—O, Sir, are you come?
Is it your will, speak, Sir? prepare my horses.—
[To Albany.
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou shew'st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster.
Alb.
Pray, Sir, be patient.
Lear.
Detested kite! thou liest.
[To Gonerill.
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 names. O most small fault!
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia shew?
† noteWhich, like an engine, wrencht my frame of nature
From the fixt place; drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
-- 37 --
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in,
[Striking his head.
And thy dear judgment out.—Go, go, my people.
Alb.
My lord, I'm guiltless, as I'm ignorant,
Of what hath moved you.
Lear.
It may be so, my lord—
Hear, Nature, hear; dear Goddess, hear a Father!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful:
Into her womb convey sterility,
Dry up in her the organs of increase,
And 7 notefrom her derogate body never spring
A Babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen, that it may live,
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her;
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
8 note
With candent tears fret chanels in her cheeks:
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel,
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is,
To have a thankless child.—Go, go, my people.
Alb.
Now, Gods, that we adore, whereof comes this?
Gon.
Never afflict yourself to know of it:
But let his disposition have that scope,
That dotage gives it.
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 Gonerill.
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
-- 38 --
Should make thee worth them.—blasts and fogs upon thee!
9 note
Th' untented woundings of a father's curse
Pierce every fence about thee! Old fond eyes,
Beweep this Cause again, I'll pluck ye out,
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay. Ha! is it come to this?
Let it be so: I have another daughter,
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable;
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She'll flea thy wolfish visage. Thou shalt find,
That I'll resume the shape, which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever.
[Ex. Lear and Attendants.
SCENE XVI.
Gon.
Do you mark that?
Alb.
I cannot be so partial, Gonerill,
To the great love I bear you,—
Gon.
Pray you, be content. What, Oswald, ho!
You, Sir, more knave than fool, after your master.
Fool.
Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, take the fool with thee:
A Fox, when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
-- 39 --
If my cap would buy a halter,
So the fool follows after.
[Exit.
Gon.
This man hath had good counsel—a hundred Knights?
'Tis politick, and safe, to let him keep
A hundred Knights; yes, that on ev'ry dream,
Each buz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their pow'rs,
And hold our lives at mercy: Oswald, I say.
Alb.
Well, you may fear too far;—
Gon.
Safer than trust too far.
Let me still take away the harms I fear,
Not fear still to be harm'd. I know his heart;
What he hath utter'd, I have writ my sister;
If she'll sustain him and his hundred Knights,
When I have shew'd th' unfitness—
Enter Steward.
How now, Oswald?
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?
Stew.
Ay, Madam.
Gon.
Take you some company, and away to horse;
Inform her full of my particular fears,
And thereto add such reasons of your own,
1 noteAs may compact it more. So get you gone,
And hasten your return.
[Exit Steward.
—No, no, my lord,
This milky gentleness and course of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more at task for want of wisdom,
Than prais'd for harmful mildness.
Alb.
How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell;
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.
Gon.
Nay then—
Alb.
Well, well, th' event.
[Exeunt.
-- 40 --
SCENE XVII.
A Court-Yard belonging to the Duke of Albany's Palace.
Re-enter Lear, Kent, Gentlemen and Fool.
Lear.
Go you before to Glo'ster with these letters;
acquaint my daughter no further with any
thing you know, than comes from her demand out of
the letter; if your diligence be not speedy, I shall be
there afore you.
Kent.
I will not sleep, my lord, 'till I have delivered
your letter.
[Exit.
Fool.
If a man's brain were in his heels, wer't not
in danger of kibes?
Lear.
Ay, boy.
Fool.
Then, I pr'ythee, be merry, thy wit shall not
go slip-shod.
Lear.
Ha, ha, ha.
Fool.
Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee
kindly; for though she's as like this as a crab's like
an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
Lear.
What can'st tell, boy?
Fool.
She will taste as like this, as a crab does to a
crab. Canst thou tell, why one's nose stands i'th' middle
of one's face?
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Why, to keep one's eyes of either side one's
nose; that what a man cannot smell out, he may
spy into.
Lear.
I did her wrong—
Fool.
Can'st tell how an oyster makes his shell?
Lear.
No.
Fool.
Nor I neither; but I can tell, why a snail
has a house.
Lear.
Why?
-- 41 --
Fool.
Why, to put's head in, not to give it away to
his daughters, and leave his horns without a case.
Lear.
I will forget my nature: so kind a father!
be my horses ready?
Fool.
Thy asses are gone about 'em; the reason,
why the seven stars are no more than seven, is a pretty
reason.
Lear.
Because they are not eight.
Fool.
Yes, indeed; thou would'st make a good
fool.
Lear.
To take't again perforce!—monster ingratitude!
Fool.
If you were my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee
beaten for being old before thy time.
Lear.
How's that?
Fool.
Thou should'st not have been old, 'till thou
had'st been wise.
Lear.
O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heav'n!
Keep me in temper, I would not be mad.
Enter Gentleman.
How now, are the horses ready?
Gent.
Ready, my lord.
Lear.
Come, boy.
Fool.
She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.
[Exeunt.
-- 42 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Castle belonging to the Earl of Glo'ster.
Enter Edmund and Curan, severally.
Edmund.
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 Dutchess, will be here with him
this night.
Edm.
How comes that?
Cur.
Nay, I know not; you have heard of the
news abroad; I mean, the whisper'd ones; for they
are yet but ear-kissing arguments.
Edm.
Not I; pray you, what are they?
Cur.
Have you heard of no likely wars toward,
'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Edm.
Not a word.
Cur.
You may do then in time. Fare you well,
Sir.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Edm.
The Duke be here to night! the better! best!
This weaves itself perforce into my business;
My father hath set guard to take my brother,
And I have one thing of a queazy question
Which I must act: briefness, and fortune work!
Brother, a word; descend; Brother, I say;—
To him, Enter Edgar.
My father watches; O Sir, fly this place,
Intelligence is giv'n where you are hid;
-- 43 --
You've now the good advantage of the night—
Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
He's coming hither now i'th' night, i'th' haste,
And Regan with him; have you nothing said
Upon his Party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
Advise yourself.
Edg.
I'm 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 hoa, here!—
Fly, brother—Torches!—so farewel—
[Ex. Edgar.
Some blood, drawn on me, would beget opinion
[Wounds his arm.
Of my more fierce endeavour. I've seen drunkards
Do more than this in sport. Father! father!
Stop, stop, no help?—
SCENE III.
To him, Enter Glo'ster, and servants with torches.
Glo.
Now, Edmund, where's the villain?
Edm.
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
1 noteMumbling of wicked Charms, conj'ring the moon
To stand 's auspicious mistress.
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—
-- 44 --
Glo.
Pursue him, ho! go after. By no means, what?—
Edm.
Persuade me to the murther of your lordship;
But that, I told him, the revenging Gods
'Gainst Parricides did all the thunder bend,
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
The child was bound to th' father.—Sir, in fine,
Seeing how lothly opposite I stood
To his unnat'ral purpose, in fell motion
With his prepared sword he charges home
My unprovided body, lanc'd my arm;
And when he saw my best alarmed spirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to th' encounter,
Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
Glo.
Let him fly far;
2 note
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
And found, dispatch'd.—the noble Duke my master,
3 note
My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night;
By his authority I will proclaim it,
That he, who finds him, shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murth'rous coward to the stake:
He that conceals him, death.
Edm.
When I disswaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to do it, with curst speech
I threaten'd to discover him; he replied,
Thou unpossessing Bastard! do'st thou think,
-- 45 --
If I would stand against thee, 4 notewould the reposal
Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee
Make thy words faith'd? * note
no; when I should deny.
(As this I would, although thou didst produce
My very character) I'd turn it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice;
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spurs
To make thee seek it.
[Trumpets within.
Glo.
O strange, fasten'd villain!
Would he deny his letter?—I never got him.—
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; besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the Kingdom
May have due note of him; and of my land,
(Loyal and natural Boy!) I'll work the means
To make thee capable.
SCENE IV.
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.
If it be true, all vengeance comes too short,
Which can pursue th' offender; how does my lord?
-- 46 --
Glo.
O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd.
Reg.
What, did my father's godson seek your life?
5 note
He whom my father nam'd? Your Edgar?
Glo.
O lady, lady, Shame would have it hid.
Reg.
Was he not companion with the riotous Knights,
That tend upon my father?
Glo.
I know not, Madam: 'tis too bad, too bad.
Edm.
Yes, Madam, he was of that consort.
Reg.
No marvel then, though he were ill affected;
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have th' expence and waste of his revenues.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions,
That if they come to sojourn at my house,
I'll not be there.
Corn.
Nor I, I assure thee, Regan;
Edmund, I hear, that you have shewn your father
A child-like office.
Edm.
'Twas my duty, Sir.
Glo.
He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Corn.
Is he pursued?
Glo.
Ay, my good lord.
Corn.
If he be taken, he shall never more
Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please. As for you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience 6 note
in this instance
-- 47 --
So much commends itself, you shall be ours;
Natures of such deep Trust we shall much need:
You we first seize on.
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;
7 noteOccasions, noble Glo'ster, of some poise,
Wherein we must have use of your advice.—
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of diff'rences, which I best thought it fit
To answer from our home: the sev'ral messengers
From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend,
Lay Comforts to your bosom; and bestow
Your needful counsel to our businesses,
Which crave the instant use.
Glo.
I serve you, Madam:
Your Graces are right welcome.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Enter Kent, and Steward, severally.
Stew.
8 noteGood downing to thee, friend; art of this house?
Kent.
Ay.
Stew.
Where may we set our horses?
Kent.
I'th' mire.
Stew.
Pr'ythee, if thou lov'st me, tell me.
-- 48 --
Kent.
I love thee not.
Stew.
Why then I care not for thee.
Kent.
If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, 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 knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats,
a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound,
filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lilly-liver'd,
action-taking, knave; a whorson, glass-gazing,
super-serviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting
slave; one that would'st be a bawd in way
of good service; and art nothing but the composition
of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and
heir of a mungril bitch; one whom I will beat into
clamr'ous whining, if thou deny'st the least syllable of
thy addition.
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-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny
thou know'st me? is it two days ago, since I tript
up thy heels, and beat thee before the King? draw,
you rogue; for tho' it be night, yet the moon shines;
9 note
I'll make a sop o'th' moonshine of you; you whorson,
cullionly, barber-monger, draw.
[Drawing his sword.
-- 49 --
Stew.
Away, I have nothing to do with thee.
Kent.
Draw, you rascal; you come with letters
against the King; and take Vanity, the Puppet's part,
against the royalty of her father; draw, you rogue,
or I'll so carbonado your shanks—draw, you rascal,
come your ways.
Stew.
Help, ho! murther! help!—
Kent.
Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand, you
neat slave, strike.
[Beating him.
Stew.
Help ho! murther! murther!—
SCENE VI.
Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Glo'ster, and Servants.
Edm.
How now, what's the matter? Part—
Kent.
With you, goodman boy, if you please; come,
I'll flesh ye; come on, young master.
Glo.
Weapons? arms? what's the matter here?
Corn.
Keep peace, upon your lives; he dies, that
strikes again; what's 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.
Kent.
No marvel, you have so bestir'd your valour;
you cowardly rascal! nature disclaims all share in thee:
a tailor made thee.
Corn.
Thou art a strange fellow; a tailor make a
man?
Kent.
I, a tailor, Sir; a stone-cutter, or a painter
could not have made him so ill, tho' they had been
but two hours o'th' trade.
Corn.
Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
Stew.
This ancient ruffian, Sir, whose life I have
spar'd at suit of his grey beard—
-- 50 --
Kent.
Thou whorson zed! thou unnecessary letter!
my lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread
1 notethis unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall
of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard? you
wagtail!—
Corn.
Peace, Sirrah!
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent.
Yes, Sir, but anger hath a privilege.
Corn.
Why art thou angry?
Kent.
That such a slave as this shou'd wear a sword.
Who wears no honesty, such smiling rogues as these,
2 note
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain
Too 'intrinsicate t'unloose: sooth every passion,
That in the nature of their lords rebels:
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With ev'ry Gale and Vary of their masters;
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following.
A plague upon your epileptick visage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum-plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to 3 noteCamelot.
Corn.
What art thou mad, old fellow!
Glo.
How fell you out? say that.
Kent.
No contraries hold more antipathy,
Than I and such a knave.
Corn.
Why dost thou call him knave? what is his
fault?
-- 51 --
Kent.
His countenance likes me not.
Corn.
No more perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers.
Kent.
Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;
I have seen better faces in my time,
Than stand on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.
&wlquo;Corn.
&wlquo;This is some fellow,
&wlquo;Who having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
&wlquo;A sawcy roughness; 4 noteand constrains the garb,
&wlquo;Quite from his nature. He can't flatter, he,—
&wlquo;An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth;
&wlquo;An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
&wlquo;These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
&wlquo;Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
&wlquo;5 note
Than twenty silky ducking observants,
&wlquo;That stretch their duties nicely.&wrquo;
Kent.
Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
Under th' allowance of your grand aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phœbus' front—
Corn.
What mean'st by this?
-- 52 --
Kent.
To go out of my dialect, which you discommend
so much: I know, Sir, I am no flatterer; he,
that beguil'd you in a plain accent, was a plain knave;
which for my part I will not be, though I should win
your displeasure to intreat me to't.
Corn.
What was th' offence you gave him?
Stew.
I never gave him any:
It pleas'd the King his master very lately
To strike at me upon his misconstruction:
When he conjunct, and flatt'ring his displeasure,
Tript me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man, that
That worthied him; got praises of the King;
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.
Kent.
None of these rogues and cowards,
6 note
But Ajax is their fool.
Corn.
Fetch forth the Stocks.
You stubborn ancient knave, you rev'rend braggart,
We'll teach you—
Kent.
Sir, I am too old to learn:
Call not your Stocks for me, I serve the King;
On whose imployment I was sent to you.
You shall do small respect, shew too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.
Corn.
Fetch forth the Stocks;
As I have 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 could not use me so.
-- 53 --
Reg.
Sir, being his knave, I will.
[Stocks brought out.
Corn.
This is a fellow of the self-same nature
Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the Stocks.
Glo.
Let me beseech your Grace not to do so;
His fault is much, and the good King his master
Will check him for't; your purpos'd low correction
Is such, as basest and the meanest wretches
For pilf'rings, and most common trespasses,
Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill,
That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.
Corn.
I'll answer that.
Reg.
My Sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs. Put in his legs—
[Kent is put in the Stocks.
Come, my lord, away.
[Exeunt Regan and Cornwall.
SCENE VII.
Glo.
I'm sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's pleasure,
Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
7 noteWill not be rubb'd nor stop'd. I'll intreat for thee.
Kent.
Pray, do not, Sir. I've watch'd and travell'd hard;
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle:
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels;
Give you good morrow.
Glo.
The Duke's to blame in this, 'twill be ill taken.
[Exit.
Kent.
Good King, that must approve the common Saw,
-- 54 --
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!
Approach, thou beacon to this under-globe,
[Looking up to the moon.
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles,
But misery. I know, 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course. I shall find time
From this enormous state, and seek to give
Losses their remedies. All weary and o'er-watch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel.
[He sleeps.
Enter Edgar.
Edg.
I've 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 the poorest shape,
That ever Penury in contempt of man
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins; elfe all my hair in knots;
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and president
Of bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortify'd bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
8 notePoor pelting villages, sheep-coats and mills,
-- 55 --
Sometimes with lunatick bans, sometimes with pray'rs,
9 note
Inforce their charity; 1 notepoor Turlygood! poor Tom!—
That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am.
[Exit.
SCENE IX.
Changes again to the Earl of Glo'ster's Castle.
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.
Kent.
Hail to thee, noble master!
Lear.
Ha! mak'st thou thy shame thy pastime?
Kent.
No, my lord.
Fool.
Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters; horses are
ty'd by the heads, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys
by th' loins, and men by th' legs; when a man
is over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether
stocks.
-- 56 --
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.
By Jupiter, I swear, no.
Kent.
By Juno, I swear, ay.
Lear.
They durst not do't.
They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than murther,
2 noteTo do upon respect such violent outrage:
3 noteResolve 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 shew'd
My duty kneeling, came a reeking Post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Gonerill his mistress, salutation;
4 noteDeliver'd letters spight of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents
5 noteThey summon'd up their meiny, strait took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks;
-- 57 --
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine;
(Being the very fellow, which of late
Display'd so saucily against your Highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, I drew;
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries:
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.
Fool.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers, that wear rags,
Do make their children blind;
But fathers, that bear bags,
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor.
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours from
Thy dear daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.
Lear.
Oh, how this mother swells up tow'rd 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.
Gent.
Made you no more offence,
But what you speak of?
Kent.
None.
How chance the King comes with so small a number?
Fool.
An thou hadst been set i'th' stocks for that
question, thou'dst well deserved it.
Kent.
Why, fool?
Fool.
We'll set thee to school to an Ant, to teach
thee there's no lab'ring i'th' winter. All, that follow
their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men; and
there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him
that's stinking—let go thy hold, when a great wheel
runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following
-- 58 --
it; but the great one that goes upward, let him
draw thee after. 6 noteWhen a wise man gives thee better
counsel, give me mine again; I would have none but
knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.
That Sir, which serves for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack, when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm:
But I will tarry, the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool, that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
Kent.
Where learn'd you this, fool?
Fool.
Not i'th' Stocks, fool.
SCENE X.
Enter Lear and Glo'ster.
Lear.
Deny to speak with me? they're sick, they're weary,
They have travell'd all the night? mere fetches,
7 noteThe images of revolt and flying off,
Bring me a better answer—
Glo.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke:
How unremovable, and fixt he is
In his own course.
Lear.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
-- 59 --
Fiery? what fiery quality? why, Glo'ster,
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?
Lear.
The King would speak with Cornwall, the dear father
Wou'd with his daughter speak; commands her service:
Are they inform'd of this?—my breath and blood!—
&wlquo;Fiery? the fiery duke? tell the hot Duke, that—
&wlquo;No, but not yet; may be, he is not well;
&wlquo;Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
&wlquo;Whereto our health is bound; we're not ourselves,
&wlquo;When Nature, being opprest, commands the mind
&wlquo;To suffer with the body.&wrquo; I'll forbear;
And am fall'n out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
For the sound man.—Death on my state! but wherefore
Should he sit here? this Act persuades me,
That this remotion of the Duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth;
Go, tell the Duke and's wife, I'd speak with them:
Now, presently,—bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum,
'Till it cry, sleep to death.
Glo.
I would have all well betwixt you.
[Exit.
Lear.
Oh me, my heart! my rising heart! but down.
Fool.
Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the
Eels, when she put them i'th' Pasty alive; she rapt
'em o'th' coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, down
wantons, down; 'Twas her brother, that in pure kindness
to his horse butter'd his hay.
-- 60 --
SCENE XI.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Glo'ster, and Servants.
Lear.
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 wert not glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adult'ress. O, are you free?
[To Kent.
Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: oh Regan, 8 note
she hath tied
&wlquo;Sharp-tooth'd unkindness like a vulture here;&wrquo;
[Points to his heart.
I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe,
With how deprav'd a quality—oh Regan!—
Reg.
I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have Hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.
Lear.
Say? How is that?—
Reg.
I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation. If, perchance,
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers;
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesom end,
As clears her from all blame.
Lear.
My curses on her!—
Reg.
O Sir, you are old,
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine; you should be rul'd and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you your Self: therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;
Say, you have wrong'd her, Sir.
-- 61 --
Lear.
Ask her forgiveness?
9 note
Do you but mark, how this becomes the House?
Dear daughter, I confess, that I am old;
Age is unnecessary: On my knees I beg,
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.
Reg.
Good Sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks:
Return you to my sister.
Lear.
Never, Regan:
She hath abated me of half my train;
1 noteLook'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!—
Corn.
Fie, Sir! fie!
Lear.
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornful eyes! infect her beauty,
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful sun
To fall, and blast her pride.
Reg.
O the blest Gods!
-- 62 --
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.
Lear.
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse:
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in. Thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of child-hood,
Effects of courtesie, dues of gratitude:
Thy half o'th' Kingdom thou hast not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.
Reg.
Good Sir, to th' purpose.
[Trumpet within.
Lear.
Who put my man i' th' Stocks?
Enter Steward.
Corn.
What trumpet's that?
Reg.
I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here. Is your lady come?
Lear.
This is a slave, 2 notewhose easie-borrowed pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
Out, varlet, from my sight.
Corn.
What means your Grace?
SCENE XII.
Enter Gonerill.
Lear.
Who stockt my servant? Regan, I've good hope,
Thou didst not know on't.—Who comes here?
O Heav'ns,
3 note
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
-- 63 --
Hallow obedience, if yourselves are old,
Make it your cause; send down, and take my part:
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?
O Regan, will you take her by the hand?
Gon.
Why not by th' hand, Sir? how have I offended?
4 noteAll's not offence, that indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms so.
Lear.
O sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold?—how came my man i' th' Stocks?
Corn.
I set him there, Sir: but his own disorders
Deserv'd much less advancement.
Lear.
You? did you?
Reg.
5 note
I pray you, Father, being weak, deem't so.
If, 'till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me;
I'm now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
-- 64 --
Lear.
Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
6 note
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chuse
To wage against the enmity o' th' air;
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,
Necessity's sharp pinch—Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dow'rless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and 'Squire-like pension beg,
To keep base life a-foot;—Return with her?
Persuade me rather to be a slave, and sumpter,
To this detested groom.
Gon.
At your choice, Sir.
Lear.
I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad;
I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewel;
&wlquo;We'll no more meet, no more see one another;
&wlquo;But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter,—
&wlquo;Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
&wlquo;Which I must needs call mine; thou art a bile,
&wlquo;A plague-sore, or imbossed carbuncle,
-- 65 --
&wlquo;In my corrupted blood; but I'll not chide thee.
&wlquo;Let shame come when it will, I do not call it;
&wlquo;I do not bid the thunder-beater note shoot,
&wlquo;Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
&wlquo;Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure.&wrquo;
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan;
I, and my hundred Knights.
Reg.
Not altogether so;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome; give ear to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so—
But she knows what she does.
Lear.
Is this well spoken?
Reg.
I dare avouch it, Sir; what fifty followers?
Is it not well? what should you need of more?
Yea, or so many? since both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number: how in one house
Should many people under two commands
Hold amity? 'tis hard, almost impossible.
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 ye,
We could controul them; if you'll come to me,
(For now I spy a danger) I intreat 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.
Lear.
Made you my Guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be follow'd
With such a number; must I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, said you so?
Reg.
And speak't again, my lord, no more with me.
-- 66 --
Lear.
7 note
Those wrinkled creatures yet do look well-favour'd,
When others are more wrinkled. Not being worst,
Stands in some rank of praise; I'll go with thee;
Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty;
And thou art twice her love.
Gon.
Hear me, my lord;
What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?
Reg.
What needs one?
&wlquo;Lear.
&wlquo;O, reason not the need: or note basest beggars
&wlquo;Are in the poorest thing superfluous;
&wlquo;Allow not nature more than nature needs,
&wlquo;Man's life is cheap as beasts.&wrquo; Thou art a lady;
-- 67 --
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm; but for true need,—
You heav'ns, give me that patience which I need!
&wlquo;You see me here, you Gods, a poor old man,
&wlquo;As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
&wlquo;If it be you, that stir these daughters' hearts
&wlquo;Against their father, fool me not so much
&wlquo;To bear it tamely; 8 notetouch me with noble anger;
&wlquo;O let not women's weapons, water-drops,
-- 68 --
&wlquo;Stain my man's cheeks. No, you unnat'ral hags,
&wlquo;I will have such revenges on you both,
&wlquo;That all the world shall—9 note
I will do such things,
&wlquo;What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be&wrquo;
The terrors of the earth: you think, I'll weep:
No, I'll not weep.—I have full cause of weeping:—
This heart shall break into a thousand flaws
Or ere I weep. O fool, I shall go mad.
[Exeunt Lear, Glo'ster, Kent and Fool.
SCENE XIII.
Corn.
Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm.
[Storm and tempest.
Reg.
This house is little; the old man and his people
Cannot be well bestow'd.
Gon.
'Tis his own blame hath put himself from rest,
And must needs taste his folly.
Reg.
For his particular, I'll receive him gladly;
But not one follower.
Gon.
So am I purpos'd.
Where is my Lord of Glo'ster?
-- 69 --
Enter Glo'ster.
Corn.
Follow'd the old man forth;—he is return'd.
Glo.
The king is in high rage, and will I know not whither.
Corn.
'Tis best to give him way, he leads himself.
Gon.
My lord, intreat him by no means to stay.
Glo.
Alack, the night comes on: and the high winds
Do sorely ruffle, for many miles about
There's scarce a bush.
Reg.
O Sir, to wilful men,
The injuries, that they themselves procure,
Must be their school-masters: shut up your doors;
He is attended with a desp'rate train;
And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear.
Corn.
Shut up your doors, my lord, 'tis a wild night.
My Regan counsels well: come out o' th' storm.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A HEATH.
A storm is heard, with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, severally.
Kent.
Who's there, besides foul weather?
Gent.
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
Kent.
I know you; where's the King?
Gent.
Contending with the fretful elements;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea;
-- 70 --
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change, or cease: 1 notetears his white hair;
[(2 noteWhich the impetuous blasts with eyeless rage
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of.)]
Strives in his little World of Man t' outscorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting Wind and Rain.
3 noteThis night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their furr dry; unbonnetted he runs,
And bids what will, take all.
Kent.
But who is with him?
Gent.
None but the Fool, who labours to out-jest
His heart-struck injuries.
Kent.
Sir, I do know you,
And dare upon the warrant of my note,
Commend a dear thing to you. There's division
(Although as yet the face of it is cover'd
With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall:
Who have (as who have not, whom their great stars
Throne and set high?) servants, who seem no less;
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state. What hath been seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the Dukes;
Or the hard rain note, which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
-- 71 --
(Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings—)
4 noteBut true it is, 5 note
from France there comes a power
Into this scathed kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret seize
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open banner—Now to you,
If on my credit you dare build so far
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The King hath cause to plain.
-- 72 --
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from some knowledge and assurance of you,
Offer this office.
Gent.
I'll talk further with you.
Kent.
No, do not:
For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out-wall, open this purse and take
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,
(As, fear not, but you shall) shew her that Ring,
And she will tell you who this fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the King.
Gent.
Give me your hand, have you no more to say?
Kent.
Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet;
That, when we have found the King, (in which you take
That way, I this:) he that first lights on him,
Halloo the other.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool.
Lear.
Blow winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow!
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout
'Till you have drencht our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
6 note
You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
[Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,]
-- 73 --
Singe my white head. And thou all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world;
Crack nature's mould, all (a) note germins spill at once
That make ingrateful man.
Fool.
O nuncle, court-holy-water in a dry house is
better than the rain-waters out o' door. Good nuncle,
in, and ask thy daughters blessing: here's a night, that
pities neither wise men nor fools.
Lear.
Rumble thy belly full, spit fire, spout rain;
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters;
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children;
7 noteYou owe me no subscription. Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure;—8 note
here I stand, your Brave;
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. Oh! oh! 'tis foul.
Fool.
He that has a house to put's head in, has a
good head-piece:
The codpiece that will house before the head has any,
The head and he shall lowse; so beggars marry many.
-- 74 --
That man that makes his toe, what he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe, and turn his sleep to wake.
For there was never yet fair woman, but she made
mouths in a glass.
SCENE III.
To them, Enter Kent.
Lear.
No, I will be the pattern of all patience,
I will say nothing.
Kent.
Who's there?
Fool.
Marry here's grace, and a cod-piece, that's a
wiseman and a fool.
Kent.
Alas, Sir, you are here? things that love night,
Love not such nights as these: the wrathful skies
9 noteGallow the very wand'rers of the dark,
And make them keep their Caves: since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry
Th' affliction, nor the force.
Lear.
&wlquo;Let the great Gods,
&wlquo;That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads,
&wlquo;Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
&wlquo;That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
&wlquo;Unwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand,
&wlquo;Thou Perjure, 1 note
thou Simular of virtue,
-- 75 --
&wlquo;That art incestuous: caitiff, shake to pieces,
&wlquo;2 note
That under covert, and convenient seeming,
&wlquo;Hast practis'd on man's life!—Close pent-up guilts,
&wlquo;Rive your concealing continents, and ask&wrquo;
These dreadful summoners grace.—I am a man,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Kent.
Alack bare-headed?
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest,
Repose you there, while I to this hard house
(More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) return, and force,
Their scanted courtesie.
Lear.
My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? art cold?
I'm cold myself. Where is the straw, my fellow?
-- 76 --
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel;
Poor fool and knave, I've (a) note one string in my heart,
That's sorry yet for thee.
Fool.
He that has an a little tynie wit,
With heigh ho, the wind and the rain;
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day.
Lear.
True, my good boy: come bring us to this
hovel.
[Exit.
Fool.
3 note'Tis a brave night to cool a curtezan.
4 note
I'll speak a prophecy or two ere I go.
When priests are more in words than matter,
When brewers marr their malt with water;
-- 77 --
5 noteWhen nobles are their tailors' tutors;
No hereticks burnt, but wenches' suitors;
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That Going shall be us'd with feet.
When every case in law is right,
No squire in debt, and no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
And cut-purses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i' th' field;
And bawds and whores do churches build:
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion.
This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I do live before
his time.
[Exit.
-- 78 --
SCENE IV.
An Apartment in Glo'ster's castle.
Enter Glo'ster, and Edmund.
Glo.
Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this
unnatural dealing; when I desir'd their leave
that I might pity him, they took from me the use
of mine own house; charg'd me on pain of perpetual
displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him,
or any way sustain him.
Edm.
Most savage and unnatural!
Glo.
Go to; say you nothing. There is division
between the Dukes, and a worse matter than that: I
have receiv'd a letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be
spoken; (I have lock'd the letter in my closet:)
these injuries the King now bears, will be revenged
home; there is part of a power already footed; we
must incline to the King; I will look for him, and
privily relieve him; go you, and maintain talk with
the Duke, that my charity be not of him 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 are strange things toward
Edmund; pray, you, be careful.
[Exit.
Edm.
This courtesie, forbid thee, shall the Duke
Instantly know, and of that letter too.
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses; no less than all.
The younger rises, when the old doth fall.
[Exit.
-- 79 --
SCENE V.
Changes to a part of the Heath with a Hovel.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Kent.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter.
The tyranny o' the open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Let me alone.
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Will't break my heart?
Kent.
I'd rather break mine own; good my lord, enter.
Lear.
Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth. When the mind's free,
The body's delicate; the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all Feeling else,
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not, as this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to't?—&wlquo;But I'll punish home;
&wlquo;No, I will weep no more—In such a night,
&wlquo;To shut me out?—pour on, I will endure:
&wlquo;In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill,
&wlquo;Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all—
&wlquo;O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
&wlquo;No more of that.—&wrquo;
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Pr'ythee, go in thyself, seek thine own ease;
&wlquo;This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
-- 80 --
&wlquo;On things would hurt me more—but I'll go in;&wrquo;
In, boy, go first. You houseless poverty—
Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep—
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm!
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these?—&wlquo;O I have ta'en
&wlquo;Too little care of this! take physick, Pomp;
&wlquo;Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
&wlquo;That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
&wlquo;And shew the Heavens more just.&wrquo;
Edg. [within.]
Fathom and half, fathom and half! poor Tom.
Fool.
Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit; help
me, help me.
[The Fool runs out from the hovel.
Kent.
Give me thy hand, who's there?
Fool.
A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor
Tom.
Kent.
What art thou, that dost grumble there i' th'
straw? come forth.
SCENE VI.
Enter Edgar, disguis'd like a Madman.
Edg.
Away! the foul fiend follows me. Through
the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Humph,
go to thy bed and warm thee.
Lear.
Didst thou give all to thy daughters? and
art thou come to this?
Edg.
Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom
the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame,
through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire;
that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in
his pew; set ratsbane by his Porridge, made him
proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse, over
four inch'd bridges, to course his own shadow for a
traitor,—bless thy five wits; Tom's a-cold. O do,
-- 81 --
de, do, de, do, de;—bless thee from whirl-winds,
star-blasting, and taking; do poor Tom some charity,
whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have
him now, and there, and here again, and there.
[Storm still.
Lear.
What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
Could'st thou save nothing? did'st thou give 'em all?
Fool.
Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been
all shamed.
Lear.
Now all the plagues, that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er mens' faults, light on thy daughters!
Kent.
He hath no daughters, Sir.
Lear.
Death! traitor, nothing could have subdu'd nature
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.
Edg.
Pillicock sat on pillicock-hill, halloo, halloo,
loo, loo!
Fool.
This cold night will turn us all to fools, and
madmen.
Edg.
Take heed o' th' foul fiend; obey thy parents;
keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not
with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on
proud array. Tom's a-cold.
Lear.
What hast thou been?
Edg.
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind;
that curl'd my hair, 6 notewore gloves in my cap, serv'd
the lust of my mistress's heart, and did the act of
darkness with her: swore as many oaths as I spake
-- 82 --
words, and broke them in the sweet face of heav'n.
One that slept in the contriving lust, and wak'd to
do it. Wine lov'd I deeply; dice early; and in woman,
out-paramour'd the Turk. False of heart, 7 notelight
of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let
not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of silks betray
thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of
brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders'
books, and defie the foul fiend. Still through
the hawthorn blows the cold wind: says suum, mun,
nonny, dolphin my boy, boy, Sessey: let him trot by.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Thou wert better in thy grave, than to answer
with thy uncover'd body this extremity of the
skies. &wlquo;Is man no more than this? Consider him
well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no
hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha!
here's three of us are so sophisticated note. 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.&wrquo;
[Tearing off his clothes.
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty
night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field
were like an old lecher's heart, a small spark, and all
the rest on's body cold; look, here comes a walking
fire.
Edg.
This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he begins
at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the
web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hairlip:
mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor
creature of the earth.
-- 83 --
8 note
Saint Withold footed thrice the (a) note wold,
He met the night-mare, and her name told,
Bid her alight, and her troth plight,
And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee right.
Kent.
How fares your Grace?
SCENE VII.
Enter Glo'ster, with a Torch.
Lear.
What's he?
Kent.
Who's there? what is't you seek?
-- 84 --
Glo.
What are you there? your names?
Edg.
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the
toad, the tod-pole; the wall-newt, and the water-newt;
that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages,
eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat, and
the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing-pool;
who is whipt from tything to tything, and
stock-punish'd, and imprison'd: who hath had three
suits to his back, six shirts to his body; horse to ride,
and weapon to wear:
But mice, and rats, and such small geer (a) note
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smolkin, peace, thou fiend!
Glo.
What, hath your Grace no better company?
Edg.
The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman; Modo
he's call'd, and Mahu.
Glo.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile,
That it doth hate what gets it.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
T'obey in all your Daughters' hard commands:
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you;
Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
Lear.
First, let me talk with this Philosopher;—
What is the cause of thunder?
Kent.
My good lord, take his offer,
Go into th' house.
Lear.
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban:
What is your study?
Edg.
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear.
Let us ask you one word in private.
-- 85 --
Kent.
Importune him once more to go, my lord;
His Wits begin t' unsettle.
Glo.
Can'st thou blame him?
[Storm still.
His Daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent!
He said, it would be thus; poor banish'd man!—
Thou say'st, the King grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
I'm almost mad myself; I had a son,
Now out-law'd from my blood; he sought my life,
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,
No father his son dearer: true to tell thee,
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this?
I do beseech your Grace,
Lear.
O cry you mercy, Sir:
Noble Philosopher, your company.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
In, fellow, into th' hovel; keep thee warm.
Lear.
Come, let's in all.
Kent.
This way, my lord.
Lear.
With him;
I will keep still with my Philosopher.
Kent.
Good my lord, sooth him; let him take the
fellow.
Glo.
Take him you on.
Kent.
Sirrah, come on; along with us.
Lear.
Come, good Athenian.
Glo.
No words, no words, hush.
Edg.
9 noteChild Rowland to the dark tower came;
His word was still, fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
[Exeunt.
-- 86 --
SCENE VIII.
Changes to Glo'ster's Castle.
Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.
Corn.
I will have revenge, ere I depart his house.
Edm.
How, my lord, I may be censur'd,
that Nature thus gives way to loyalty, something
fears me to think of.
Corn.
I now perceive, it was not altogether your
brother's evil disposition made him seek his death: 1 notebut
a provoking merit, set a-work by a reprovable badness
in himself.
Edm.
How malicious is my fortune, that I must
repent to be just? this is the letter, which he spoke of;
which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages
of France. Oh heavens! that this treason were
not; or not I the detector!
Corn.
Go with me to the Dutchess.
Edm.
If the matter of this paper be certain, you
have mighty business in hand.
Corn.
True or false, it hath made thee Earl of
Glo'ster: seek out where thy father is, that he may
be ready for our Apprehension.
Edm.
If I find him comforting the King, it will
stuff his suspicion more fully.—[aside.] I will persevere
in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be
sore between that and my blood.
Corn.
I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find
a dearer father in my love.
[Exeunt.
-- 87 --
SCENE IX.
A Chamber, in a Farm-house.
Enter Kent and Glo'ster.
Glo.
Here is better than the open Air, take
it thankfully: I will piece out the comfort
with what addition I can; I will not be long
from you.
[Exit.
Kent.
All the power of his wits has given way to
his impatience: the Gods reward your kindness!
Enter Lear, Edgar, and Fool.
Edg.
Fraterreto calls me, and tells me, Nero is an
angler in the lake of darkness: pray innocent, and
beware the foul fiend.
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a madman
be a gentleman, or a yeoman?
Lear.
A King, a King.
Fool.
No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to
his son: for he's a mad yeoman, that sees his son a
gentleman before him.
Lear.
To have a thousand with red burning spits
2 noteCome hizzing in upon 'em—
Edg.
The foul fiend bites my back.
Fool.
He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a
wolf, 3 notethe heels of a horse, the love of a boy, or the
oath of a whore.
Lear.
It shall be done, I will arraign 'em strait.
Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer;
-- 88 --
Thou sapient Sir, sit here—now, ye she-foxes!—
Edg.
Look, where she stands and glares. Wantest thou eyes
At tryal, Madam?
Come o'er the Broom, Bessy, to me.
Fool.
Her Boat hath a Leak, and she must not speak,
Why she dares not come over to thee.
Edg.
The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice
of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for
two white Herrings. Croak not, black angel, I have
no food for thee.
Kent.
How do you, Sir? stand you not so amaz'd;
Will you lye down, and rest upon the Cushions?
Lear.
I'll see their tryal first, bring me in the evidence.
Thou robed man of justice, take thy place;
And thou his yoke-fellow of equity,
Bench by his side. You are o'th' commission, sit you too.
Edg.
Let us deal justly.—
Sleepest, or wakest thou, jolly Shepherd?
Thy Sheep be in the Corn;
And for one Blast of thy minikin Mouth,
Thy sheep shall take no Harm.
Purre, the Cat, is grey.
Lear.
Arraign her first, 'tis Gonerill. I here take
my Oath before this honourable Assembly, she kick'd
the poor King her Father.
Fool.
Come hither, Mistress, is your name Gonerill?
Lear.
She cannot deny it.
Fool.
Cry you mercy, I took you for a Joint-stool.
Lear.
And here's another, whose warpt Looks proclaim
What store her Heart is made of. Stop her there;
Arms, arms, sword, fire,—Corruption in the place!
False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape?
Edg.
Bless thy five wits.
-- 89 --
Kent.
O pity! Sir, where is the patience now,
That you so oft have boasted to retain?
Edg.
My tears begin to take his part so much,
They mar my counterfeiting.
[Aside.
Lear.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me—
Edg.
Tom Will throw his head at them; avaunt, you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite;
Mastiff, grey-hound, mungril grim,
Hound or spaniel, 4 notebrache, or hym;
Or bobtail tike, or trundle-tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail:
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do, de, de, de: Sessey, come, march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns; poor Tom, thy horn is dry.
Lear.
Then let them anatomize Regan—see what
breeds about her heart—Is there any cause in nature
that makes these hard hearts? &wlquo;You, Sir, I entertain
for one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion
of your garments. You will say, they are Persian;
but let them be chang'd.&wrquo;
Re-enter Glo'ster.
Kent.
Now, good my lord, lye here and rest a while.
Lear.
Make no noise, make no noise, draw the curtains;
So, so, we'll go to supper i' th' morning.
Fool.
And I'll go to bed at noon.
Glo.
Come hither, friend; where is the King, my master?
-- 90 --
Kent.
Here, Sir, but trouble him not; his wits are gone.
Glo.
Good friend, I pr'ythee, take him in thy arms:
I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him:
There is a litter ready, lay him in't,
And drive tow'rd Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct.
Kent.
Opprest Nature sleeps:
This Rest might yet have balm'd thy broken Senses,
Which, if Conveniency will not allow,
Stand in hard Cure. Come, help to bear thy Master;
Thou must not stay behind.
[To Fool.
Glo.
Come, come, away.
[Exeunt, bearing off the King.
Manet Edgar.
Edg.
When we our Betters see bearing our Woes,
We scarcely think our Miseries our Foes.
Who alone suffers, suffers most i'th' Mind;
5 noteLeaving free things, and happy Shows behind:
But then the Mind much Suff'rance does o'erskip,
When Grief hath Mates, and Bearing Fellowship.
How light, and portable, my pain seems now,
When That, which makes me bend, makes the King bow;
He childed, as I father'd!—Tom, away;
Mark the high Noises, 6 noteand thyself bewray,
-- 91 --
When false Opinion, whose wrong Thought defiles thee,
In thy just Proof repeals, and reconciles thee.
What will, hap more to Night; safe 'scape the King!
Lurk, Lurk.—
[Exit Edgar.
SCENE X.
Changes to Glo'ster's Castle.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Edmund, and Servants.
Corn.
Post speedily to my lord your husband,
shew him this letter; the army of France is
landed; seek out the traitor Glo'ster.
Reg.
Hang him instantly.
Gon.
Pluck out his eyes.
Corn.
Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep
you our sister company; the revenges we are bound to
take upon your traiterous father, are not fit for your
beholding. Advise the Duke, where you are going,
to a most festinate preparation; we are bound to the
like. Our Posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt
us. Farewel, dear sister; farewel, my lord of Glo'ster.
Enter Steward.
How now? where's the King?
Stew.
My lord of Glo'ster hath convey'd him hence.
Some five or six and thirty of his Knights,
Hot Questrists after him, met him at gate;
Who with some other of the Lords dependants,
Are gone with him tow'rd Dover; where they boast
To have well-armed friends.
Corn.
Get horses for your mistress.
Gon.
Farewel, sweet lord, and sister.
[Exeunt Gon. and Edm.
-- 92 --
Corn.
Edmund, farewel:—go seek the traitor Glo'ster;
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us:
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice; yet our pow'r
Shall do a court'sie to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not controul.
SCENE XI.
Enter Glo'ster, brought in by Servants.
Who's there? the traitor?
Reg.
Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.
Corn.
Bind fast his corky arms.
Glo.
What mean your Graces? Good my Friends, consider.
You are my Guests: Do me no foul play, friends.
Corn.
Bind him, I say.
[They bind him.
Reg.
Hard, hard: O filthy traitor!
Glo.
Unmerciful lady as you are! I'm none.
Corn.
To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find—
Glo.
7 note
By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the beard.
-- 93 --
Reg.
So white, and such a traitor?
Glo.
Naughty lady,
These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
Will quicken and accuse thee; I'm your Host;
With robbers' hands, 8 notemy hospitable favour
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
Corn.
Come, Sir, what letters had you late from France?
Reg.
Be (a) note simple-answer'd, for we know the truth.
Corn.
And what confed'racy have you with the traitors,
Late footed in the kingdom?
Reg.
To whose hands
Have you sent the lunatick King? speak.
Glo.
I have a letter guessingly set down,
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
And not from one oppos'd.
Corn.
Cunning—
Reg.
And false.
Corn.
Where hast thou sent the King?
Glo.
To Dover.
Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?
Wast thou not charg'd, at peril—
Corn.
Wherefore to Dover? let him first answer that.
Glo.
I am ty'd to th' stake, and I must stand the course.
-- 94 --
Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?
Glo.
Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish phangs.
9 note
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night indur'd, would have boil'd up,
And quench'd the 1 notestelled fires;
Yet poor old heart, he help'd the heav'ns to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou should'st have said, “go, porter turn the key;
2 noteAll cruels else subscrib'd; but I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such Children.
Corn.
See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
Upon these eyes of thine I'll fet my foot.
[Glo'ster is held down, while Cornwall treads out one of his eyes.
Glo.
He, that will think to live 'till he be old,
Give me some help.—O cruel! O you gods!
Reg.
One side will mock another; th' other too.
Corn.
If you see vengeance—
Serv.
Hold your hand, my lord:
I've serv'd you, ever since I was a child;
But better service have I never done you,
Than now to bid you hold.
Reg.
How now, you dog?
Serv.
If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?
Corn.
My villain!
-- 95 --
Serv.
Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger.
[Fight; in the Scuffle Cornwall is wounded.
Reg.
Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus?
[Kills him.
Serv.
Oh, I am slain—my lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him. Oh—
[Dies.
Corn.
Lest it see more, prevent it; out, vile gelly:
Where is thy lustre now?
[Treads the other out.
Glo.
All dark and comfortless—where's my son Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature
To quit this horrid act.
Reg.
Out, treacherous villain.
Thou call'st on him, that hates thee: It was he,
That made the overture of thy treasons to us:
Who is too good to pity thee.
Glo.
O my follies!
Then Edgar was abus'd. Kind gods, forgive
Me that, and prosper him!
Reg.
Go thrust him out
At gates, and let him smell his way to Dover.
[Exit with Glo'ster.
How is't, my lord, how look you?
Corn.
I have receiv'd a hurt; follow me, lady.—
Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave
Upon the dunghil.—Regan, I bleed apace.
Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.
[Exit Corn. led by Regan.
1st Serv.
I'll never care what Wickedness I do,
If this Man come to Good.
2d Serv.
If She live long,
And, in the End, meet the old course of Death,
Women will all turn Monsters.
1st Serv.
Let's follow the old Earl, and get the Bedlam
-- 96 --
To lead him where he would; his roguish Madness
Allows itself to any Thing.
2d Serv.
Go thou; I'll fetch some Flax and whites of Eggs
T' apply to's bleeding Face. Now, Heav'n help him!
[Exeunt severally.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
An open Country.
Enter Edgar.
Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
The lowest, most dejected thing of Fortune,
Stands still in esperance; lives not in fear.
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then,
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace!
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts.
Enter Glo'ster, led by an old man.
But who comes here?
My father poorly led? World, world, 1 note
O world!
But that thy strange Mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yield to age.
-- 97 --
Old Man.
O my good Lord, I have been your
tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore years.
Glo.
Away, get thee away: good friend, be gone;
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee they may hurt.
Old Man.
You cannot see your way.
Glo.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes:
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen,
2 noteOur mean secures us; and our meer defects
Prove our commodities.—O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath;
Might I but live to see thee in my Touch,
I'd say, I had eyes again!
Old Man.
How now? who's there?
Edg.
O Gods! 3 note
who is't can say, I'm at the worst?
-- 98 --
I'm worse, than e'er I was.
Old Man.
'Tis poor mad Tom.
Edg.
And worse I may be yet: the worst is not,
So long as we can say, this is the worst.
Old Man.
Fellow, where goest?
Glo.
Is it a beggar-man?
Old Man.
Madman, and beggar too.
Glo.
He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I'th' last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
Which made me think a man a worm. My son
Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him. I've heard more since.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to th' Gods;
They kill us for their sport.
Edg.
How should this be?
Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow,
(a) noteAng'ishing itself and others.—Bless thee, master.
Glo.
Is that the naked fellow?
Old Man.
Ay, my lord.
Glo.
Get thee away: if, for my sake,
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain
I'th' way tow'rd Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some Covering for this naked soul,
Whom I'll intreat to lead me.
Old Man.
Alack, Sir, he is mad.
Glo.
'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind:
Do as I bid, or rather do thy pleasure;
Above the rest, be gone.
Old Man.
I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have,
Come on't, what will.
[Exit.
Glo.
Sirrah, naked fellow.
Edg.
Poor Tom's a-cold;—4 noteI cannot daub it further.
-- 99 --
Glo.
Come hither, fellow.
Edg.
And yet I must;
Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.
Glo.
Know'st thou the way to Dover?
Edg.
Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path:
poor Tom hath been scar'd out of his good wits. Bless
thee, good man, from the foul fiend. Five fiends have
been in poor Tom at once; of Lust, as Obidicut;
Hobbididen, Prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing;
Mohu, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping
and mowing; who since 5 notepossesses chamber-maids and
waiting-women.
-- 100 --
Glo.
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues
Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched,
Makes thee the happier: heavens deal so still!
6 note
Let the superfluous, and lust dieted man,
That braves your ordinance, that will not see
Because he do's not feel, feel your power quickly:
So distribution should undo excess,
And each man have enough. Do'st thou know Dover?
Edg.
Ay, master.
Glo.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully on the confined deep:
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery, thou do'st bear,
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no leading need.
Edg.
Give me thy arm;
Poor Tom shall lead thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Duke of Albany's Palace.
Enter Gonerill, and Edmund.
Gon.
Welcome, my lord. I marvel, our mild husband
Not met us on the way.
-- 101 --
Enter Steward.
Now, where's your Master?
Stew.
Madam, within; but never man so chang'd:
I told him of the army that was landed:
He smil'd at it. I told him, you were coming,
His answer was, the worse. Of Glo'ster's treachery,
And of the loyal service of his son,
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot;
And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out.
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.
Gon.
Then shall you go no further.
It is the cowish terrour of his spirit,
That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs,
Which tie him to an answer; our wishes on the way
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers.
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us: you ere long shall hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edm.
Yours in the ranks of death.
Gon.
My most dear Glo'ster!
[Exit Edmund.
Oh, the strange difference of man, and man!
To thee a woman's services are due,
My fool usurps my body.
Stew.
Madam, here comes my lord.
Enter Albany.
Gon.
I have been worth the whistle.
Alb.
Oh Gonerill,
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
-- 102 --
Blows in your face.—7 noteI fear your disposition:
That Nature, which contemns its origine,
8 noteCannot be border'd certain in itself;
9 note
She that herself will sliver, and disbranch,
1 noteFrom her material sap, perforce must wither,
-- 103 --
2 noteAnd come to deadly use.
Gon.
No more; 'tis foolish.
Alb.
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;
Filths savour but themselves—What have you done;
Tygers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Most barb'rous, most degenerate, have you madded.
Cou'd my good Brother suffer you to do it,
3 note
A man, a Prince by him so benefited?
If that the heav'ns do not their visible Spirits
Send quickly down to tame the vile offences,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.
Gon.
Milk-liver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour, from thy suffering: that not know'st,
-- 104 --
Fools do these villains pity, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischef. Where's thy Drum?
France spreads his Banners in our noiseless land,
With plumed helm thy slayer begins his threats;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cry'st,
“Alack! why does he so?”—
Alb.
See thyself, devil:
4 noteProper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman.
Gon.
O vain fool!
Alb.
Thou chang'd, and self-converted thing! For shame,
Be-monster not thy feature. Wer't my fitness
To let these hands obey my [boiling] blood,
They're apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones.—Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's shape doth shield thee.—
Gon.
Marry, your manhood now!—
Enter Messenger.
Mes.
Oh, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Glo'ster.
Alb.
Glo'ster's eyes!
Mes.
A servant, that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
Oppos'd against the act; bending his sword
To his great master: who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead:
But now without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath pluck'd him after.
Alb.
This shews you are above,
You Justices, that these our nether crimes
-- 105 --
So speedily can venge. But O poor Glo'ster!
Lost he his other eye?
Mes.
Both, both, my lord.
This letter, Madam, craves a speedy answer:
'Tis from your sister.
Gon.
One way, I like this well;
But being widow, and my Glo'ster with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life. Another way,
The news is not so tart. I'll read, and answer.
[Exit.
Alb.
Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
Mes.
Come with my lady hither.
Alb.
He's not here.
Mes.
No, my good lord, I met him back again.
Alb.
Knows he the wickedness?
Mes.
Ay, my good lord, 'twas he inform'd against him,
And quit the house of purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.
Alb.
Glo'ster, I live
To thank thee for the love thou shew'dst the King,
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,
Tell me, what more thou know'st.
[Exeunt.
5 noteSCENE III.
DOVER.
Enter Kent, and a Gentleman.
Kent.
The King of France so suddenly gone back!
Know you the reason?
-- 106 --
Gent.
Something he left imperfect in the State,
Which since his coming forth is thought of, which
Imports the Kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his return was most requir'd and necessary.
Kent.
Whom hath he left behind him General?
Gent.
The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Far.
Kent
Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration
of grief?
Gent.
I, Sir, she took 'em, read 'em in my presence;
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a Queen
Over her passion, which, most rebel-like,
Sought to be King o'er her.
Kent.
O, then it mov'd her.—
Gent.
But not to Rage. &wlquo;Patience and Sorrow strove
&wlquo;Which should express her goodliest; you have seen
&wlquo;Sun-shine and rain at once—6 note
her Smiles and Tears
&wlquo;Were like a wetter May. Those happiest smiles,
&wlquo;That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
&wlquo;What guests were in her Eyes; which parted thence,
&wlquo;As pearls from diamonds dropt.&wrquo;—In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd,
If all could so become it.
Kent.
7 note
Made she no verbal quest?
-- 107 --
Gent.
Yes, once, or twice, she heav'd the Name of Father
Pantingly forth, as if it prest her heart.
Cry'd, sisters! sisters!—Shame of Ladies! sisters!
Kent! Father! Sisters! what? i' th' storm? i'th' night?
Let Pity ne'er believe it!—there she shook
The holy water from her heav'nly Eyes;
8 noteAnd, Clamour-motion'd, then away she started
To deal with grief alone.
Kent.
—9 noteIt is the Stars,
The Stars above us, govern our conditions:
1 noteElse one self-mate and mate could not beget
Such diff'rent issues. Spoke you with her since?
Gent.
No.
Kent.
Was this before the King return'd?
Gent.
No, since.
Kent.
Well, Sir; the poor distressed Lear's in town;
-- 108 --
Who sometimes, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about; and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter.
Gent.
Why, good Sir?
Kent.
A sov'reign shame so bows him; his unkindness,
That stript her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters: 2 note
These things sting him
So venomously, that burning shame detains him
From his Cordelia.
Gent.
Alack, poor gentleman!
Kent.
Of Albany's, and Cornwall's Pow'rs you heard not?
Gent.
3 note
'Tis said they are a-foot.
Kent.
Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him. 4 noteSome dear cause
Will in Concealment wrap me up a while:
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me.
[Exeunt.
-- 109 --
SCENE IV.
A CAMP.
Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers.
&wlquo;Cor.
&wlquo;Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now
&wlquo;As mad as the vext sea; singing aloud;
&wlquo;Crown'd with rank fumiterr, and furrow-weeds
&wlquo;With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
&wlquo;Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
&wlquo;In our sustaining corn.&wrquo; Send forth a cent'ry;
Search evr'y acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye. What can man's Wisdom
In the restoring his bereaved sense,
He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phys.
There are means, Madam:
Our foster nurse of nature is repose;
The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many Simples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.
&wlquo;Cor.
&wlquo;All blest Secrets,
&wlquo;All you unpublish'd Virtues of the Earth,
&wlquo;Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediate
&wlquo;In the good man's distress!&wrquo;—seek, seek for him;
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life,
That wants the means to lead it.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
News, Madam:
The British Pow'rs are marching hitherward.
Cor.
'Tis known before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them. O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about: therefore great France
My Mourning and important Tears hath pitied.
-- 110 --
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and see him!
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
REGAN's PALACE.
Enter Regan and Steward.
Reg.
But are my Brother's Powers set forth?
Stew.
Ay, Madam.
Reg.
Himself in person there?
Stew.
With much adoe.
Your sister is the better soldier.
Reg.
Lord Edmund spake not with your lady at home?
Stew.
No, Madam.
Reg.
What might import my sister's letter to him?
Stew.
I know not, lady.
Reg.
Faith he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ign'rance, Glo'ster's eyes being out,
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his misery, to dispatch
His nighted life: moreover, to descry
The strength o' th' enemy.
Stew.
I must needs after him, Madam, with my letter.
Reg.
Our troops set forth to morrow: stay with us:
The ways are dangerous.
Stew.
I may not, Madam;
My lady charg'd my duty in this business.
Reg.
Why should she write to Edmund? might not you
Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
Something—I know not what—I'll love thee much—
-- 111 --
Let me unseal the letter.
Stew.
Madam, I had rather—
Reg.
I know, your lady do's not love her husband:
I'm sure of that; and, at her late being here,
5 noteShe gave œiliads, and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know, you're of her bosom.
Stew.
I, Madam?
Reg.
I speak in understanding: you are; I know't;
Therefore, I do advise you, take this note.
My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd,
And more convenient is he for my hand,
Than for your lady's: you may gather more:
If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
And when your Mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. So farewel.
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.
Stew.
'Would I could meet him, Madam, I should shew
What party I do follow
Reg.
Fare thee well.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
The Country, near Dover.
Enter Glo'ster, and Edgar as a Peasant.
Glo.
When shall I come to th' top of that same hill?
Edg.
You do climb up it now. Look, how we labour.
Glo.
Methinks, the ground is even.
Edg.
Horrible steep.
Hark, do you hear the sea?
Glo.
No, truly.
-- 112 --
Edg.
Why then your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes' 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're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments.
Glo.
Sure you're better spoken.
Edg.
Come on, Sir, here's the place—stand still. &plquo;How fearful
&plquo;And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
&plquo;The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
&plquo;Shew scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down
&plquo;Hangs one, that gathers Samphire; dreadful trade!
&plquo;Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.
&plquo;The fisher-men, that walk upon the beach,
&plquo;Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
&plquo;Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
&plquo;Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
&plquo;That on th' unnumbred 6 noteidle pebbles chafes,
&plquo;Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
&plquo;Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight,
&plquo;Topple down headlong.&prquo;
Glo.
Set me, where you stand,
Edg.
Give me your hand: you're now within a foot
Of th' extream verge: 7 note
for all below the moon
Would I not leap outright.
-- 113 --
Glo.
Let go my hand:
Here, friend,'s another purse, in it a Jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies, and Gods,
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off,
Bid me farewel, and let me hear thee going.
Edg.
Now fare ye well, good Sir.
[Seems to go.
Glo.
With all my heart.
Edg.
Why do I trifle thus with his despair?
'Tis done to cure it.
&wlquo;Glo.
&wlquo;O you mighty Gods!
&wlquo;This world I do renounce; and in your sights
&wlquo;Shake patiently my great affliction off:
&wlquo;If I could bear it longer, and not fall
&wlquo;To quarrel with your great opposeless Wills,
&wlquo;My snuff and loathed part of nature should
&wlquo;Burn itself out.&wrquo; If Edgar live, O bless him!
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
[He leaps, and falls along.
Edg.
Good Sir, farewel.
And yet I know not how Conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself
Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past.—Alive or dead?
Hoa, you, hear you, friend! Sir! Sir! speak!
Thus might he pass, indeed—yet he revives.
What are you, Sir?
Glo.
Away, and let me die.
Edg.
Had'st thou been aught but Goss'mer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou'd'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe,
Hast heavy substance, bleed'st not; speak, art sound?
8 noteTen masts attacht make not the altitude,
-- 114 --
Which thou hast perpendicularly fall'n.
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.
Glo.
But have I fall'n, or no?
Edg.
From the dread summit of this chalky bourn?
Look up a-height, the shrill-gorg'd Lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.
Glo.
Alack, I have no eyes.
&wlquo;Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,
&wlquo;To end itself by death? 'twas yet some comfort,
&wlquo;When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
&wlquo;And frustrate his proud will.&wrquo;
Edg.
Give me your arm.
Up, so—how is't? feel you your legs? you stand.
Glo.
Too well, too well.
Edg.
This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o' th' cliff, what thing was that,
Which parted from you?
Glo.
A poor unfortunate beggar.
Edg.
As I stood here, below, methought, his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
9 noteHorns welk'd, and wav'd like the enridged sea:
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
1 noteThink, that the clearest gods, who make them honours
Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee.
Glo.
I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
Affliction, 'till it do cry out itself,
Enough, enough, and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man; often 'twould say,
The fiend, the fiend—he led me to that place.
Edg.
Bear free and patient thoughts.
-- 115 --
SCENE VII.
Enter Lear, drest madly with flowers.
But who comes here?
2 note
The sober sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus.
Lear.
No, they cannot touch me for coyning: I am
the King himself.
Edg.
O thou side-piercing sight!
Lear.
Nature's above art in that respect. There's
your press-mony. That fellow handles his bow like
a crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look,
look, a mouse! Peace, peace;—this piece of toasted
cheese will do't—there's my gauntlet, I'll prove it
on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. 3 noteO, well
flown, Barb! i'th' clout, i'th' clout: hewgh.—Give
the word.
Edg.
Sweet marjoram.
Lear.
Pass.
Glo.
I know that voice.
Lear.
Ha! Gonerill! ha! Regan! they flatter'd me
like a dog, and told me, I had white hairs in my
beard, ere the black ones were there. To say ay,
and no, to every thing that I said—Ay, and no,
too was no good divinity. When the rain came to
wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter;
when the thunder would not peace at my bidding;
-- 116 --
there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to,
they are not men o' their words; they told me I was
every thing: 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
Glo.
4 noteThe trick of that voice I do well remember:
Is't not the King?
Lear.
Ay, every inch a King.
When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life. What was the cause?
Adultery? thou shalt not die; die for adultery? no,
the wren goes to't, and the small gilded flie does letcher
in my sight. Let copulation thrive: for Glo'ster's
bastard-son was kinder to his father, than my daughters
got 'tween the lawful sheets. To't, luxury, pell-mell;
for I lack soldiers. Behold yon simpering
Dame, 5 notewhose face 'tween her forks presages snow;
that minces virtue, and does shake the head to hear of
pleasure's name. 6 noteThe fitchew, nor the 7 notestalled horse,
goes to't with a more riotous appetite: down from
the waste they are centaurs, though women all above:
but to the girdle do the Gods inherit, beneath it is all
the fiends. There's hell, there's darkness, there is
the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption:
fie, fie, fie; pah, pah; give me an ounce
of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination!
there's money for thee.
Glo.
O, let me kiss that hand.
Lear.
Let me wipe it first, it smells of mortality.
Glo.
O ruin'd piece of nature! this great world
Shall so wear out to nought. Do'st thou know me?
Lear.
I remember thine eyes well enough: dost
thou squiny at me? no, do thy worst, blind Cupid;
-- 117 --
I'll not love. Read thou this challenge, mark but
the penning of it.
Glo.
Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.
Edg.
I would not take this from report; it is,
And my heart breaks at it.
Lear.
Read.
Glo.
What, with this case of eyes?
Lear.
Oh, ho, are you there with me? no eyes in
your head, nor no mony in your purse? your eyes
are in a heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you
see how this world goes.
Glo.
I see it feelingly.
Lear.
What, art mad? a man may see how this
world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears:
see, how yond justice rails upon yond simple thief.
Hark in thine ear: change Places, and handy-dandy,
which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast
seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar.
Glo.
Ay, Sir.
Lear.
And the creature run from the cur? there
thou might'st behold the great image of authority; a
dog's obey'd in office—
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand:
Why dost thou lash that whore? strip thy own back;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind,
For which thou whip'st her. Th' usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tatter'd cloaths small vices do appear;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
None does offend, none, I say, none; 8 note
I'll able 'em;
Take that of me, my friend, who have the pow'r
-- 118 --
To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes,
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.
Now, now, now, now. Pull off my boots: harder, harder so.
Edg.
O matter and impertinency mixt,
Reason in madness!
Lear.
If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough, thy name is Glo'ster;
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
We wawle and cry. I will preach to thee: mark—
Glo.
Alack, alack the day!
Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools.—This a good block!—
It were a delicate stratagem to shoe
A troop of horse with Felt; I'll put't in proof;
And when I've stoln upon these sons-in-law,
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
SCENE VIII.
Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants.
Gent.
O, here he is, lay hand upon him; Sir,
Your most dear daughter—
Lear.
No rescue? what, a prisoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune. Use me well,
You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons,
I am cut to th' brains.
Gent.
You shall have any thing.
Lear.
No seconds? all my self?
Why, this would make a man, a man of salt;
To use his eyes for garden-water-pots,
And laying autumn's dust. I will die bravely,
-- 119 --
Like a smug bridegroom. What? I will be jovial:
Come, come, I am a King. My Masters, know you that?
Gent.
You are a royal one, and we obey you.
Lear.
Then there's life in't. Come, an you get it,
You shall get it by running: sa, sa, sa, sa.
[Exit.
Gent.
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.
Edg.
Hail, gentle Sir.
Gent.
Sir, speed you: what's your Will?
Edg.
Do you hear aught, Sir, of a battle toward?
Gent.
Most sure, and vulgar; every one hears that,
Which can distinguish sound.
Edg.
But by your favour,
How near's the other army?
Gent.
Near, and on speedy foot: the main descry
Stands on the hourly thought.
Edg.
I thank you, Sir: That's all.
Gent.
Though that the Queen on special cause is here
Her army is mov'd on.
[Exit.
Edg.
I thank you, Sir.
Glo.
You ever gentle Gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!
Edg.
Well pray you, father.
Glo.
Now, good Sir, what are you?
Edg.
A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows,
9 note
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
-- 120 --
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I'll lead you to some biding.
Glo.
Hearty thanks;
The bounty and the benizon of heav'n
To boot, and boot!—
SCENE IX.
Enter Steward.
Stew.
A proclaim'd prize! most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh,
To raise my fortunes. Old unhappy traitor,
1 noteBriefly thy self remember: the sword is out,
That must destroy thee.
Glo.
Let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to't.
Stew.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? hence,
Lest that th' infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
Edg.
Chill not let go, Zir, without vurther 'casion.
Stew.
Let go, slave, or thou dy'st.
Edg.
Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor
volk pass: and 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out of my
life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vort-night.
Nay, come not near th' old man: keep out,
che vor'ye, or ice try whether your costard or my bat
be the harder; chill be plain with you.
Stew.
Out, dunghill!
Edg.
Chill pick your teeth, Zir: come, no matter
vor your foyns.
[Edgar knocks him down.
Stew.
Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse;
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body,
-- 121 --
And give the letters, which thou find'st about me,
To Edmund Earl of Glo'ster: seek him out
Upon the English party: Oh, untimely death!—
[Dies.
Edg.
I know thee well, a serviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy Mistress,
As badness would desire.
Glo.
What, is he dead?
Edg.
Sit you down, father: rest you.
Let's see these pockets; the letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends: he's dead; I'm only sorry,
He had no other death's-man. Let us see—
By your leave, gentle wax—and manners blame us not:
2 note
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts;
Their papers are more lawful.
Reads the Letter.
Let our reciprocal Vows be remembred. You have
many opportunities to cut him off: if your Will
want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer'd. There
is nothing done, if he return the conqueror. Then am I
the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from the loathed
warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for
your labour.
Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate Servant,
Gonerill.
3 noteOh, undistinguish'd space of woman's Will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life,
-- 122 --
And the exchange my brother. Here, i'th' sands
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murth'rous lechers: and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.
Glo.
The King is mad: how stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, 4 noteand have ingenious Feeling
Of my huge sorrows! better I were distract,
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs;
[Drum afar off.
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves.
Edg.
Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.
[Exeunt.
SCENE X.
Changes to a Chamber.
Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Physician.
Cor.
O, thou good Kent, how shall I live and work
To match thy Goodness? life will be too short,
And ev'ry measure fail me.
-- 123 --
Kent.
To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'erpaid;
All my reports go with the modest truth,
Nor more, nor clipt, but so.
Cor.
Be better suited;
These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
I pr'ythee, put them off.
Kent.
Pardon, dear Madam,
Yet to be known, 5 noteshortens my laid intent;
My boon I make it, that you know me not,
'Till time and I think meet.
Cor.
Then be it so,
My lord.—How does the King?
[To the Physician.
Phys.
Madam, sleeps still.
Cor.
O you kind Gods!
Cure this great breach in his abused nature;
Th' untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father.
Phys.
Please your Majesty,
That we may wake the king, he hath slept long?
Cor.
Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I'th' sway of your own will: is he array'd?
Enter Lear in a chair, carried by Servants.
Phys.
Ay, Madam; in the heaviness of sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.
Be by, good Madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.
Cor.
O my dear father! 6 note
Restauration, hang
-- 124 --
&wlquo;Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss&wrquo;
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
Kent.
Kind and dearest Princess!
Cor.
Had you not been their Father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face,
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep, dread-bolted Thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble Stroke
Of quick, cross Lightning? 7 note
To watch, poor Perdu!
With this thin Helm? My very Enemy's Dog,
Though he had bit me, shou'd have stood that Night
Against my fire: And wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw? alack, alack!
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits, at once,
8 note
Had not concluded.—Ah! he wakes; speak to him.
Phys.
Madam, do you, 'tis fittest.
Cor.
How does my royal lord? how fares your Majesty?
Lear.
You do me wrong to take me out o'th' grave;
Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears
-- 125 --
Do scald like molten lead.
Cor.
Sir, do you know me?
Lear.
You are a spirit, I know; when did you die?
Cor.
Still, still, far wide—
Phys.
He's scarce awake, let him alone a while.
Lear.
Where have I been? where am I? fair day-light?
I'm mightily abus'd; I should even die with Pity,
To see another thus. I know not what to say;
I will not swear, these are my hands: let's see,
I feel this pin prick: 'would I were assur'd
Of my condition.
Cor.
O look upon me, Sir,
And hold your hand in benediction o'er me.
No, Sir, you must not kneel.
Lear.
Pray, do not mock me;
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'm mainly ignorant,
What place this is; and all the skill I have,
Remembers not these garments; nay, I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me,
For, as I am a man, I think, this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
Cor.
And so I am; I am.—
Lear.
Be your tears wet? yes, faith; I pray you, weep not.
If you have poison for me, I will drink it;
I know, you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have some cause, they have not.
Cor.
No cause, no cause.
Lear.
Am I in France?
Kent.
In your own kingdom, Sir.
Lear.
Do not abuse me.
-- 126 --
Phys.
Be comforted, good Madam; the great Rage,
You see, is cur'd in him:—and, yet, 'twere danger
9 noteTo make him even o'er the Time, h'as lost.
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more,
'Till further settling.
Cor.
Will't please your Highness walk?
Lear.
You must bear with me;
Pray you now, forget and forgive;
I am old and foolish.
[Exeunt Lear, Cord. Phys. and attendants.
Manent Kent and Gentleman.
Gent.
Holds it true, Sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
Kent.
Most certain, Sir.
Gent.
Who is Conductor of his people?
Kent.
As 'tis said, the Bastard Son of Glo'ster.
Gent.
They say, Edgar, his banisht Son, is with the
Earl of Kent in Germany.
Kent.
Report is changeable: 'Tis time to look
about: the Powers of the Kingdom approach apace.
Gent.
The Arbitrement is like to be bloody.—
Fare you well, Sir.
[Exit Gent.
Kent.
My Point and Period will be throughly wrought,
Or well, or ill, as this day's Battle's fought.
[Exit Kent.
-- 127 --
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A CAMP.
Enter Edmund, Regan, Gentleman and Soldiers.
Edmund.
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.
Reg.
Our sister's man is certainly miscarry'd.
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.
But have you never found my brother's way
To the fore-fended place?
Edm.
No, by mine honour, Madam.
Reg.
I never shall endure her; dear my lord,
Be not familiar with her.
Edm.
Fear not; she, and the Duke her husband—
Enter Albany, Gonerill, and Soldiers.
Gon.
I'd rather lose the Battle, than that Sister
Should loosen him and Me.—
[Aside.
Alb.
Our very loving sister, well be met:
1 note
Sir, this I hear, the King is come to his daughter,
-- 128 --
With others, whom the rigour of our state
Forc'd to cry out. 2 noteWhere I could not be honest,
I never yet was valiant: for this business,
It toucheth us, as France invades our Land,
Not holds the King, with others, whom, I fear,
Most just and heavy causes make oppose,—
Edm.
Sir, you speak nobly.
Reg.
Why is this reason'd?
Gon.
Combine together 'gainst the enemy:
For these domestick and particular broils
Are not the question here.
Edm.
I shall attend you presently at your Tent.
Alb.
Let's then determine with th' Antient of war
On our proceeding.
Reg.
Sister, you'll go with us?
Gon.
No.
-- 129 --
Reg.
'Tis most convenient, pray you, go with us.
Gon.
Oh ho, I know the riddle, I will go.
SCENE II.
As they are going out, Enter Edgar disguis'd.
Edg.
If e'er your Grace had speech with man so poor,
Hear me one word.
Alb.
I'll overtake you:—speak.
[Exeunt Edm. Reg. Gon. and Attendants.
Edg.
Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
If you have vict'ry, 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. Fortune love you!
Alb.
Stay 'till I've 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.
Hard 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.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
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?
-- 130 --
Both? one? or neither? neither can be enjoy'd,
If both remain alive: to take the widow,
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Gonerill;
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
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.
SCENE IV.
Another open Field.
Alarum within. Enter with drum and colours, Lear, Cordelia, and soldiers over the stage, and exeunt.
Enter Edgar and Glo'ster.
Edg.
Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
For your good Host; pray, that the right may thrive:
If ever I return to you again,
I'll bring you comfort.
Glo.
Grace be with you, Sir!
[Exit Edgar.
[Alarum, and retreat, within.
Re-enter Edgar.
Edg.
Away, old man; give me thy hand, away;
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en,
Give me thy hand. Come on.
Glo.
No further, Sir; a man may rot even here.
Edg.
What, in ill thoughts again? men must endure
Their going hence, ev'n as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all; come on.
Glo.
And that's true too.
[Exeunt.
-- 131 --
SCENE V.
Enter in Conquest, with Drum and Colours, Edmund; Lear and Cordelia, as prisoners; Soldiers, Captain.
Edm.
Some Officers take them away; good guard,
Until their greater pleasures first be known,
That are to censure them.
Cor.
We're not the first,
Who with best meaning have incurr'd the worst:
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' th' cage:
When thou dost ask me Blessing, I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee Forgiveness: so we'll live,
And pray, and sing, &wlquo;and tell old tales, and laugh
&wlquo;At gilded butterflies; and hear poor rogues
&wlquo;Talk of Court-news, and we'll talk with them too,
&wlquo;Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out:
&wlquo;3 note
And take upon's the mystery of things,
&wlquo;As if we were God's spies. And we'll wear out,
&wlquo;In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of Great ones,
&wlquo;That ebb and flow by th' moon.&wrquo;
Edm.
Take them away.
&wlquo;Lear.
&wlquo;4 note
Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
-- 132 --
&wlquo;The Gods themselves throw incense.&wrquo; Have I caught thee?
He that parts us, shall bring a brand from heav'n,
And fire us hence, like foxes; wipe thine eye,
The (a) note goujeres shall devour them, flesh and fell,
Ere they shall make us weep; we'll see them starv'd first.
Come.
[Exeunt Lear and Cordelia guarded.
Edm.
Come hither, Captain, hark.
Take thou this note; 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: know thou this, that men
Are as the time is; to be tender-minded
Do's not become a sword; 5 note
thy great Employment
Will not bear question; either say, thou'lt do't;
Or thrive by other means.
Capt.
I'll do't, my lord.
Edm.
About it, and write happy, when thou'st done.
Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so,
As I have set it down.
[Exit Captain.
-- 133 --
SCENE VI.
Flourish. Enter Albany, Gonerill, Regan, and Soldiers.
Alb.
Sir, you have shew'd 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 bosoms on his side;
And turn our imprest launces in our eyes,
Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen;
My reason all the same; and they are ready
To morrow, or at further space, t'appear
Where you shall hold your Session. At this time,
We sweat and bleed; the Friend hath lost his Friend;
And the best Quarrels, in the Heat, are curst
By those that feel their Sharpness.—
The Question of Cordelia, and her Father,
Requires a fitter Place.
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.
Methinks, our pleasure might have been demanded,
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our Pow'rs;
6 noteBore the Commission of my Place and Person;
-- 134 --
7 noteThe which immediacy may well stand up,
And call itself your brother.
Gon.
Not so hot:
In his own grace he doth exalt himself,
More than in your advancement.
Reg.
In my Right,
By me invested, he compeers the best.
Alb.
That were the most, if he should husband you.
Reg.
Jesters do oft prove Prophets.
Gon.
Holla, Holla!
That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint.
Reg.
Lady, I am not well, else I should answer
From a full-flowing stomach. General,
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony,
Dispose of them, of me; 8 note
the walls are thine:
Witness the World, that I create thee here
My lord and master.
Gon.
Mean you to enjoy him?
Alb.
The Lett alone lyes not in your good Will.
Edm.
Nor in thine, lord.
Alb.
Half-blooded fellow, yes.
Reg.
Let the drum strike, and prove my Title thine.
Alb.
Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I arrest thee
On capital treason; and, in thy Arrest,
This gilded Serpent; 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 banes.
If you will marry, make your loves to me,
My lady is bespoke.
Gon.
An enterlude!—
Alb.
Thou art arm'd, Glo'ster; let the trumpet sound:
-- 135 --
If none appear to prove upon thy person
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
There is my Pledge: 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.
Edm.
There's my exchange; what in the world he is,
That names me Traitor, villain-like he lies;
Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
On him, on you, (who not?) I will maintain
My truth and honour firmly.
Alb.
A herald, ho!
Enter a Herald.
Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name
Took their discharge.
Reg.
This sickness grows upon me.
Alb.
She is not well, convey her to my Tent.
[Exit Regan, led.
SCENE VII.
Come hither, herald, let the trumpet sound,
And read out this.
[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 Glo'ster, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear
by the third sound of the trumpet: he is bold in his
defence.
1 trumpet.
Her.
Again.
2 trumpet.
Her.
Again.
3 trumpet.
[Trumpet answers, within.
-- 136 --
Enter Edgar, armed.
Alb.
Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Upon this Call o'th' 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.
Alb.
Which is that Adversary?
Edg.
What's he, that speaks for Edmund Earl of Glo'ster?
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:—
9 note
Behold, it is the privilege of mine Honours,
My Oath, and my Profession. I protest,
Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,
Spite of 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 th' extreamest upward of thy head,
To the descent and dust below thy foot,
-- 137 --
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;
But since thy out-side looks so fair and warlike,
1 noteAnd that thy tongue some 'Say of Breeding breathes;
What safe and nicely I might well delay
By rule of Knight-hood, 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 thou shalt rest for ever. Trumpets, speak.
[Alarm. Fight.
Gon.
O, save him, save him; This is Practice, Glo'ster:
By th' law of war, thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd,
But cozen'd and beguil'd.
Alb.
Shut your mouth, Dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it;
Thou worse than any thing, read thine own evil:
No tearing, lady; I perceive, you know it.
Gon.
Say, if I do; the Laws are mine, not thine;
Who can arraign me for't?
Alb.
Monster, know'st thou this paper?
Gon.
Ask me not, what I know—
[Exit Gon.
Alb.
Go after her, she's desperate, govern her.
SCENE VIII.
Edm.
What you have charg'd me with, That I have done,
-- 138 --
And more, much more; the time will bring it out.
'Tis past, and so am I: but what art thou,
That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble,
I do forgive thee.
Edg.
Let's exchange charity:
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more thou'st wrong'd me.
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
&wlquo;The Gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
&wlquo;Make instruments to scourge us:&wrquo;
The dark and vicious place, where thee he got,
Cost him his eyes.
Edm.
Thou'st spoken right, 'tis true,
The wheel is come full circle; I am here.
Alb.
Methought, thy very gate did prophesie
A royal Nobleness: I must embrace thee:—
Let Sorrow split my heart, if ever I
Did hate thee, or thy father!
Edg.
Worthy Prince, I know't.
Alb.
Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father?
Edg.
By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale,
And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!—
The bloody Proclamation to escape
That follow'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness!
That we the pain of death would hourly bear,
Rather than die at once) &wlquo;taught me to shift
&wlquo;Into a mad-man's rags; t'assume a Semblance,
&wlquo;The very Dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
&wlquo;Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
&wlquo;Their precious gems new lost; became his guide,
&wlquo;Led him, beg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
&wlquo;Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him,
&wlquo;Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd,
&wlquo;Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
&wlquo;I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
&wlquo;Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart,
-- 139 --
&wlquo;Alack, too weak the Conflict to support,
&wlquo;'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
&wlquo;Burst smilingly.&wrquo;
Edm.
This speech of yours hath mov'd me,
And shall, perchance, do good; but speak you on,
You look, as you had something more to say.
Alb.
If there be more, more woful, hold it in,
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.
Edg.
2 note
This would have seem'd a Period. But such,
As love to amplify another's Sorrow,
To much, would make much more, and top extremity.
&wlquo;Whilst I was big in Clamour, came there a Man,
&wlquo;Who having seen me in my worser State,
&wlquo;Shun'd my abhorr'd Society; but now finding
&wlquo;Who 'twas, had so endur'd, with his strong Arms
&wlquo;He fasten'd on my Neck; and bellow'd out,
&wlquo;As he'd burst Heaven; threw him on my Father;
&wlquo;Told the most piteous Tale of Lear and him,
&wlquo;That ever Ear receiv'd; which in recounting
&wlquo;His Grief grew puissant, and the Strings of Life
&wlquo;Began to crack.&wrquo;—Twice then the Trumpets sounded,
And there I left him traunc'd.—
Alb.
But who was this?
-- 140 --
Edg.
Kent, Sir; the banish'd Kent, who in disguise
Follow'd his enemy King, and did him Service
Improper for a Slave.
SCENE IX.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent.
Help, help!
Edg.
What kind of help?
Alb.
Speak, man.
Edg.
What means this bloody knife?
Gent.
'Tis hot, it smoaks; it came even from the heart
Of—O! she's dead.—
Alb.
Who's dead? speak, man.
Gent.
Your lady, Sir, your lady; and her sister
By her is poison'd; she confesses it.
Edm.
I was contracted to them both; all three
Now marry in an instant.
Edg.
Here comes Kent.
Enter Kent.
Alb.
Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead.
[Gonerill and Regan's Bodies brought out.
This Judgment of the heav'ns, that makes us tremble,
Touches us not with pity.—O! is this He?
The time will not allow the compliment,
Which very manners urge.
Kent.
I am come
To bid my King and Master aye good night;
Is he not here?
Alb.
Great thing of us forgot!
Speak, Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia?
See'st thou this Object, Kent?
Kent.
Alack, why thus?
-- 141 --
Edm.
Yet Edmund was belov'd:
The one the other poison'd for my sake,
And after slew herself.
Alb.
Even so; cover their faces.
Edm.
I pant for life; some Good I mean to do,
Despight of mine own nature. Quickly send,
(Be brief) into the Castle; for my Writ
Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia:
Nay, send in time.
Alb.
Run, run, O run—
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—
Edg.
Haste thee for thy life.
[Exit Messenger.
Edm.
He hath Commission from thy wife and me
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
To lay the blame upon her own despair.
Alb.
The Gods defend her! bear him hence a while.
[Edmund is borne off.
SCENE X.
Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his arms.
Lear.
Howl, howl, howl, howl,—O, you are men of stone;
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so,
That heaven's vault should crack: she's 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?
Lear.
This feather stirs, she lives; if it be so,
It is a Chance which do's redeem all sorrows,
That ever I have felt.
-- 142 --
Kent.
O my good master!
[Kneeling.
Lear.
Pr'ythee, away—
Edg.
'Tis noble Kent, your friend.
Lear.
A plague upon you, murth'rous 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; an excellent thing in woman.
I kill'd the slave, that was a hanging thee.
Gent.
'Tis true, my lords, he did.
Lear.
Did I not, fellow?
I've 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'th' best.—I'll tell you strait.
Kent.
If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold.
Lear.
Are you not Kent?
Kent.
The same; your servant Kent;
Where is your servant Caius?
Lear.
'Twas a good fellow, I can tell you that,
He'd strike, and quickly too:—he's dead and rotten.
Kent.
No, my good lord, I am the very man,—
Lear.
I'll see that strait.
Kent.
That, from your first 3 noteof difference and decay,
Have follow'd your sad steps—
Lear.
Your'e welcome hither.
Kent.
Nor no man else;—all's cheerless, dark, and dead:
Your eldest daughters have fore-done themselves,
And desp'rately are dead.
Lear.
Ay, so I think.
Alb.
He knows not what he says; and vain is it,
That we present us to him.
Edg.
Very bootless.
-- 143 --
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Edmund is dead, my lord.
Alb.
That's but a trifle.
You lords and noble friends, know our intent;
4 noteWhat Comfort to this great Decay may come,
Shall be apply'd. For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old Majesty,
To him our absolute Power: to you, your Rights,
[To Edgar.
With boot, and such addition as your honours
Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings: O see, see—
Lear.
And my poor fool is hang'd: no, no, no life.
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,
And thou no breath at all? thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never—
Pray you, undo this button. Thank you, Sir;
Do you see this? look on her, look on her lips,
Look there, look there—
[He dies.
Edg.
He faints, my lord,—
Kent.
Break heart, I pr'ythee break!
Edg.
Look up, my lord.
Kent.
Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! He hates him,
That would upon the rack of this rough world
Stretch him out longer.
Edg.
He is gone, indeed.
Kent.
The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long:
He but usurpt his life.
Alb.
Bear them from hence, our present business
Is general woe: 5 notefriends of my soul, you twain
Rule in this Realm, and the gor'd State sustain.
-- 144 --
Kent.
I have a journey, Sir, shortly to go;
My master calls me; I must not say, no.
[Dies.
Alb.
The weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most; we, that are young,
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
[Exeunt with a dead March.
