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.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
