William Shakespeare

The Tragedy of King Lear

Re Lear (Traducción) El Rey Lear (Traducción) Le Roi Lear (Traducción)

Shakespeare, William. The Tragedy of King Lear. Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine with Michael Poston and Rebecca Niles. Washington DC: Folger Shakespeare Library, 2015. Folger Digital Texts, https://shakespeare.folger.edu/shakespeares-works/king-lear/. Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.

Joan Oleza Simó (Investigador principal) Mowa, Barbara A.; Werstine, Paul (Editor de la edición crítica) Tronch Pérez, Jesus (Editor digital)

English · Verso · 351 versos

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0) License

https://playcode.fly.dev/plays/EMOTHE0646_TheTragedyOfKingLear

Note on this digital edition

Folger Digital Texts and their source code are available at no cost for online reading and download, for noncommercial purposes only, under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/deed.en_US As re-encoded and adapted to the EMOTHE platform, this digital text has the turn-unders in verse lines placed back to their respective single lines, and therefore does not follow the Folger line numbering system, which counts turn-unders as lines too as they appear in the print Folger editions. In the use of types of brackets, this digital text replicates the conventions of the Folger Shakespeare edition: “In order to enable its readers to tell the difference between the F and Q1 versions, the present edition uses a variety of signals: (1) All the words in this edition that are printed only in the First Quarto but not in the Folio appear in pointed brackets (⟨ ⟩). (2) All full lines that are found only in the Folio and not in the First Quarto are printed in brackets ([ ]). (3) Sometimes neither the Folio nor the First Quarto seems to offer a satisfactory reading, and it is necessary to print a word different from what is offered by either. Such words (called “emendations” by editors) are printed within half-brackets (⸢ ⸣).” (https://shakespeare.folger.edu/shakespeares-works/king-lear/an-introduction-to-this-text/?loc=GO)

Characters in the Play

Lear king of Britain

Goneril Lear’s eldest daughter

Duke of Albany her husband

Oswald her steward

Regan Lear’s second daughter

Duke of Cornwall her husband

Cordelia Lear’s youngest daughter

King of France her suitor and then husband

Duke of Burgundy her suitor

Earl of Kent

Fool

Earl of Gloucester

Edgar his elder son

Edmund his younger and illegitimate son

Curan gentleman of Gloucester’s household

Old Man a tenant of Gloucester’s

Knight serving Lear

Gentlemen

Three Servants

Messengers

Doctor

Captains

Herald

Knights in Lear’s train, Servants, Officers, Soldiers, Attendants, Gentlemen

Albany/Cornwall

First Servant

ACT 1

Scene 1

(Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund.)

KENT

I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER

It did always seem so to us, but now in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most, for ⟨equalities⟩ are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety.

KENT

Is not this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER

His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to ’t.

KENT

I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER

Sir, this young fellow’s mother could, whereupon she grew round-wombed and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

KENT

I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.

GLOUCESTER

But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came something saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. — Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

EDMUND

No, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

My lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honorable friend.

EDMUND

My services to your Lordship.

KENT

I must love you and sue to know you better.

EDMUND

Sir, I shall study deserving.

GLOUCESTER

He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. (Sennet.) The King is coming.

(Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants.)

LEAR

Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. 34

GLOUCESTER

I shall, my lord. 35

(He exits.)

LEAR

Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. — 36

Give me the map there. 37

(⸢He is handed a map.⸣)

Know that we have divided

In three our kingdom, and ’tis our fast intent 38

To shake all cares and business from our age, 39

Conferring them on younger strengths, [while we 40

Unburdened crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall 41

And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 42

We have this hour a constant will to publish 43

Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife 44

May be prevented now.] 45

The ⟨two great⟩ princes, France and Burgundy, 46

Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love, 47

Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn 48

And here are to be answered. Tell me, my daughters — 49

[Since now we will divest us both of rule, 50

Interest of territory, cares of state — ] 51

Which of you shall we say doth love us most, 52

That we our largest bounty may extend 53

Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, 54

Our eldest born, speak first. 55

GONERIL

Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter, 56

Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty, 57

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare, 58

No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor; 59

As much as child e’er loved, or father found; 60

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable. 61

Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 62

CORDELIA

What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent. 63

LEAR

⸢pointing to the map⸣ Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, 64

With shadowy forests [and with champains riched, 65

With plenteous rivers] and wide-skirted meads, 66

We make thee lady. To thine and Albany’s ⟨issue⟩ 67

Be this perpetual. — What says our second daughter, 68

Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? ⟨Speak.⟩ 69

REGAN

I am made of that self mettle as my sister 70

And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 71

I find she names my very deed of love; 72

Only she comes too short, that I profess 73

Myself an enemy to all other joys 74

Which the most precious square of sense ⟨possesses,⟩ 75

And find I am alone felicitate 76

In your dear Highness’ love. 77

CORDELIA

Then poor Cordelia!

And yet not so, since I am sure my love’s 78

More ponderous than my tongue. 79

LEAR

To thee and thine hereditary ever 80

Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom, 81

No less in space, validity, and pleasure 82

Than that conferred on Goneril. — Now, our joy, 83

Although our last and least, to whose young love 84

[The vines of France and milk of Burgundy 85

Strive to be interessed,] what can you say to draw 86

A third more opulent than your sisters’? Speak. 87

CORDELIA

Nothing, my lord. 88

[LEAR

Nothing? 89

CORDELIA

Nothing.] 90

LEAR

Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again. 91

CORDELIA

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 92

My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty 93

According to my bond, no more nor less. 94

LEAR

How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little, 95

Lest you may mar your fortunes. 96

CORDELIA

Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, loved me. 97

I return those duties back as are right fit: 98

Obey you, love you, and most honor you. 99

Why have my sisters husbands if they say 100

They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, 101

That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry 102

Half my love with him, half my care and duty. 103

Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, 104

⟨To love my father all.⟩ 105

LEAR

But goes thy heart with this? 106

CORDELIA

Ay, my good lord. 107

LEAR

So young and so untender? 108

CORDELIA

So young, my lord, and true. 109

LEAR

Let it be so. Thy truth, then, be thy dower, 110

For by the sacred radiance of the sun, 111

The ⸢mysteries⸣ of Hecate and the night, 112

By all the operation of the orbs 113

From whom we do exist and cease to be, 114

Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 115

Propinquity, and property of blood, 116

And as a stranger to my heart and me 117

Hold thee from this forever. The barbarous Scythian, 118

Or he that makes his generation messes 119

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 120

Be as well neighbored, pitied, and relieved 121

As thou my sometime daughter. 122

KENT

Good my liege —

LEAR

Peace, Kent. 123

Come not between the dragon and his wrath. 124

I loved her most and thought to set my rest 125

On her kind nursery. ⸢To Cordelia.⸣ Hence and avoid my sight! — 126

So be my grave my peace as here I give 127

Her father’s heart from her. — Call France. Who stirs? 128

Call Burgundy. 129

(⸢An Attendant exits.⸣)

Cornwall and Albany,

With my two daughters’ dowers digest the third. 130

Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 131

I do invest you jointly with my power, 132

Preeminence, and all the large effects 133

That troop with majesty. Ourself by monthly course, 134

With reservation of an hundred knights 135

By you to be sustained, shall our abode 136

Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain 137

The name and all th’ addition to a king. 138

The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, 139

Belovèd sons, be yours, which to confirm, 140

This coronet part between you. 141

KENT

Royal Lear,

Whom I have ever honored as my king, 142

Loved as my father, as my master followed, 143

As my great patron thought on in my prayers — 144

LEAR

The bow is bent and drawn. Make from the shaft. 145

KENT

Let it fall rather, though the fork invade 146

The region of my heart. Be Kent unmannerly 147

When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? 148

Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak 149

When power to flattery bows? To plainness honor’s bound 150

When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state, 151

And in thy best consideration check 152

This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment, 153

Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, 154

Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds 155

Reverb no hollowness. 156

LEAR

Kent, on thy life, no more.

KENT

My life I never held but as ⟨a⟩ pawn 157

To wage against thine enemies, ⟨nor⟩ fear to lose it, 158

Thy safety being motive. 159

LEAR

Out of my sight!

KENT

See better, Lear, and let me still remain 160

The true blank of thine eye. 161

LEAR

Now, by Apollo — 162

KENT

Now, by Apollo, king, 163

Thou swear’st thy gods in vain. 164

LEAR

O vassal! Miscreant! 165

[ALBANY/CORNWALL

Dear sir, forbear.] 166

KENT

Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow 167

Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift, 168

Or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat, 169

I’ll tell thee thou dost evil. 170

LEAR

Hear me, recreant; on thine allegiance, hear me! 171

That thou hast sought to make us break our vows — 172

Which we durst never yet — and with strained pride 173

To come betwixt our sentence and our power, 174

Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, 175

Our potency made good, take thy reward: 176

Five days we do allot thee for provision 177

To shield thee from disasters of the world, 178

And on the sixth to turn thy hated back 179

Upon our kingdom. If on the tenth day following 180

Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions, 181

The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, 182

This shall not be revoked. 183

KENT

Fare thee well, king. Sith thus thou wilt appear, 184

Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. 185

⸢To Cordelia.⸣ The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, 186

That justly think’st and hast most rightly said. 187

⸢To Goneril and Regan.⸣ And your large speeches may your deeds approve, 188

That good effects may spring from words of love. — 189

Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu. 190

He’ll shape his old course in a country new. 191

(He exits.)

(Flourish. Enter Gloucester with France, and Burgundy, ⸢and⸣ Attendants.)

⟨GLOUCESTER⟩

Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord. 192

LEAR

My lord of Burgundy, 193

We first address toward you, who with this king 194

Hath rivaled for our daughter. What in the least 195

Will you require in present dower with her, 196

Or cease your quest of love? 197

BURGUNDY

Most royal Majesty,

I crave no more than hath your Highness offered, 198

Nor will you tender less. 199

LEAR

Right noble Burgundy,

When she was dear to us, we did hold her so, 200

But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands. 201

If aught within that little seeming substance, 202

Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced 203

And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace, 204

She’s there, and she is yours. 205

BURGUNDY

I know no answer.

LEAR

Will you, with those infirmities she owes, 206

Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, 207

Dowered with our curse and strangered with our oath, 208

Take her or leave her? 209

BURGUNDY

Pardon me, royal sir,

Election makes not up in such conditions. 210

LEAR

Then leave her, sir, for by the power that made me 211

I tell you all her wealth. — For you, great king, 212

I would not from your love make such a stray 213

To match you where I hate. Therefore beseech you 214

T’ avert your liking a more worthier way 215

Than on a wretch whom Nature is ashamed 216

Almost t’ acknowledge hers. 217

FRANCE

This is most strange,

That she whom even but now was your ⟨best⟩ object, 218

The argument of your praise, balm of your age, 219

The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time 220

Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle 221

So many folds of favor. Sure her offense 222

Must be of such unnatural degree 223

That monsters it, or your forevouched affection 224

Fall into taint; which to believe of her 225

Must be a faith that reason without miracle 226

Should never plant in me. 227

CORDELIA

⸢to Lear⸣ I yet beseech your Majesty — 228

If for I want that glib and oily art 229

To speak and purpose not, since what I ⟨well⟩ intend 230

I’ll do ’t before I speak — that you make known 231

It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, 232

No unchaste action or dishonored step 233

That hath deprived me of your grace and favor, 234

But even for want of that for which I am richer: 235

A still-soliciting eye and such a tongue 236

That I am glad I have not, though not to have it 237

Hath lost me in your liking. 238

LEAR

Better thou

Hadst not been born than not t’ have pleased me better. 239

FRANCE

Is it but this — a tardiness in nature 240

Which often leaves the history unspoke 241

That it intends to do? — My lord of Burgundy, 242

What say you to the lady? Love’s not love 243

When it is mingled with regards that stands 244

Aloof from th’ entire point. Will you have her? 245

She is herself a dowry. 246

BURGUNDY

⸢to Lear⸣ Royal king,

Give but that portion which yourself proposed, 247

And here I take Cordelia by the hand, 248

Duchess of Burgundy. 249

LEAR

Nothing. I have sworn. I am firm. 250

BURGUNDY

⸢to Cordelia⸣ I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father 251

That you must lose a husband. 252

CORDELIA

Peace be with Burgundy.

Since that respect and fortunes are his love, 253

I shall not be his wife. 254

FRANCE

Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor; 255

Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised, 256

Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon, 257

Be it lawful I take up what’s cast away. 258

Gods, gods! ’Tis strange that from their cold’st neglect 259

My love should kindle to enflamed respect. — 260

Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, 261

Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. 262

Not all the dukes of wat’rish Burgundy 263

Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. — 264

Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind. 265

Thou losest here a better where to find. 266

LEAR

Thou hast her, France. Let her be thine, for we 267

Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see 268

That face of hers again. ⸢To Cordelia.⸣ Therefore begone 269

Without our grace, our love, our benison. — 270

Come, noble Burgundy. 271

(Flourish. ⸢All but France, Cordelia, Goneril, and Regan⸣ exit.)

FRANCE

Bid farewell to your sisters. 272

CORDELIA

The jewels of our father, with washed eyes 273

Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are, 274

And like a sister am most loath to call 275

Your faults as they are named. Love well our father. 276

To your professèd bosoms I commit him; 277

But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, 278

I would prefer him to a better place. 279

So farewell to you both. 280

REGAN

Prescribe not us our duty. 281

GONERIL

Let your study

Be to content your lord, who hath received you 282

At Fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted 283

And well are worth the want that you have wanted. 284

CORDELIA

Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides, 285

Who covers faults at last with shame derides. 286

Well may you prosper. 287

FRANCE

Come, my fair Cordelia.

(France and Cordelia exit.)

GONERIL

Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence tonight.

REGAN

That’s most certain, and with you; next month with us.

GONERIL

You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath ⟨not⟩ been little. He always loved our sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly.

REGAN

’Tis the infirmity of his age. Yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.

GONERIL

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-engraffed condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.

REGAN

Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent’s banishment.

GONERIL

There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you, let us sit together. If our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.

REGAN

We shall further think of it.

GONERIL

We must do something, and i’ th’ heat.

(They exit.)

Scene 2

(Enter ⸢Edmund, the⸣ Bastard.)

EDMUND

Thou, Nature, art my goddess. To thy law 1

My services are bound. Wherefore should I 2

Stand in the plague of custom, and permit 3

The curiosity of nations to deprive me 4

For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 5

Lag of a brother? why “bastard”? Wherefore “base,” 6

When my dimensions are as well compact, 7

My mind as generous and my shape as true 8

As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us 9

With “base,” with “baseness,” “bastardy,” “base,” “base,” 10

Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 11

More composition and fierce quality 12

Than doth within a dull, stale, tired bed 13

Go to th’ creating a whole tribe of fops 14

Got ’tween asleep and wake? Well then, 15

Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land. 16

Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund 17

As to th’ legitimate. Fine word, “legitimate.” 18

Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed 19

And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 20

Shall ⸢top⸣ th’ legitimate. I grow, I prosper. 21

Now, gods, stand up for bastards! 22

(Enter Gloucester.)

GLOUCESTER

Kent banished thus? And France in choler parted? 23

And the King gone tonight, prescribed his power, 24

Confined to exhibition? All this done 25

Upon the gad? — Edmund, how now? What news? 26

EDMUND

So please your Lordship, none.

(⸢He puts a paper in his pocket.⸣)

GLOUCESTER

Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

EDMUND

I know no news, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

What paper were you reading?

EDMUND

Nothing, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

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.

EDMUND

I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother that I have not all o’erread; and for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o’erlooking.

GLOUCESTER

Give me the letter, sir.

EDMUND

I shall offend either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.

GLOUCESTER

Let’s see, let’s see.

(⸢Edmund gives him the paper.⸣)

EDMUND

I hope, for my brother’s justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.

GLOUCESTER

(reads) This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times, keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways not as it hath power but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue forever 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 you to this? Who brought it?

EDMUND

It was not brought me, my lord; there’s the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.

GLOUCESTER

You know the character to be your brother’s?

EDMUND

If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.

GLOUCESTER

It is his.

EDMUND

It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents.

GLOUCESTER

Has he never before sounded you in this business?

EDMUND

Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age and fathers declined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.

GLOUCESTER

O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter. Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! Worse than brutish! — Go, sirrah, seek him. I’ll apprehend him. — Abominable villain! — Where is he?

EDMUND

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 honor 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 Honor, and to no other pretense of danger.

GLOUCESTER

Think you so?

EDMUND

If your Honor judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction, and that without any further delay than this very evening.

GLOUCESTER

He cannot be such a monster.

⟨EDMUND

Nor is not, sure.

GLOUCESTER

To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him! Heaven and Earth!⟩ Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray you. Frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate myself to be in a due resolution.

EDMUND

I will seek him, sir, presently, convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.

GLOUCESTER

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked ’twixt son and father. [This villain of mine comes under the prediction: there’s son against father. The King falls from bias of nature: there’s father against child. We have seen the best of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves.] — Find out this villain, Edmund. It shall lose thee nothing. Do it carefully. — And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! His offense, honesty! ’Tis strange.

(He exits.)

EDMUND

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeits of our own behavior) we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars, as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge 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 rough and lecherous. ⟨Fut,⟩ I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. ⟨Edgar⟩ — Enter Edgar. ⟨and⟩ pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy. My cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o’ Bedlam. — O, these eclipses do portend these divisions. Fa, sol, la, mi.

EDGAR

How now, brother Edmund, what serious contemplation are you in?

EDMUND

I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

EDGAR

Do you busy yourself with that?

EDMUND

I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily, ⟨as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent, death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities, divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles, needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.

EDGAR

How long have you been a sectary astronomical?

EDMUND

Come, come,⟩ when saw you my father last?

EDGAR

The night gone by.

EDMUND

Spake you with him?

EDGAR

Ay, two hours together.

EDMUND

Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word nor countenance?

EDGAR

None at all.

EDMUND

Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him, and at my entreaty 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.

EDGAR

Some villain hath done me wrong.

EDMUND

That’s my fear. [I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray you go. There’s my key. If you do stir abroad, go armed.

EDGAR

Armed, brother?]

EDMUND

Brother, I advise you to the best. I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I have seen and heard, but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it. Pray you, away.

EDGAR

Shall I hear from you anon?

EDMUND

I do serve you in this business.

(Edgar exits.)

A credulous father and a brother noble, 186

Whose nature is so far from doing harms 187

That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty 188

My practices ride easy. I see the business. 189

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit. 190

All with me’s meet that I can fashion fit. 191

(He exits.)

Scene 3

(Enter Goneril and ⸢Oswald, her⸣ Steward.)

GONERIL

Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his Fool?

OSWALD

Ay, madam.

GONERIL

By day and night he wrongs me. Every hour 4

He flashes into one gross crime or other 5

That sets us all at odds. I’ll not endure it. 6

His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us 7

On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, 8

I will not speak with him. Say I am sick. 9

If you come slack of former services, 10

You shall do well. The fault of it I’ll answer. 11

OSWALD

He’s coming, madam. I hear him. 12

GONERIL

Put on what weary negligence you please, 13

You and your fellows. I’d have it come to question. 14

If he distaste it, let him to my sister, 15

Whose mind and mine I know in that are one, 16

⟨Not to be overruled. Idle old man 17

That still would manage those authorities 18

That he hath given away. Now, by my life, 19

Old fools are babes again and must be used 20

With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abused.⟩ 21

Remember what I have said. 22

OSWALD

Well, madam.

GONERIL

And let his knights have colder looks among you. 23

What grows of it, no matter. Advise your fellows so. 24

⟨I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, 25

That I may speak.⟩ I’ll write straight to my sister 26

To hold my ⟨very⟩ course. Prepare for dinner. 27

(They exit ⸢in different directions.⸣)

Scene 4

(Enter Kent ⸢in disguise.⸣)

KENT

If but as ⟨well⟩ I other accents borrow 1

That can my speech diffuse, my good intent 2

May carry through itself to that full issue 3

For which I razed my likeness. Now, banished Kent, 4

If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned, 5

So may it come thy master, whom thou lov’st, 6

Shall find thee full of labors. 7

(Horns within. Enter Lear, ⸢Knights,⸣ and Attendants.)

LEAR

Let me not stay a jot for dinner. Go get it ready. ⸢An Attendant exits.⸣ How now, what art thou?

KENT

A man, sir.

LEAR

What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?

KENT

I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him truly that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish.

LEAR

What art thou?

KENT

A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.

LEAR

If thou be’st as poor for a subject as he’s for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

KENT

Service.

LEAR

Who wouldst 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 do?

KENT

I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which ordinary men are fit for I am qualified in, and the best of me is diligence.

LEAR

How old art thou?

KENT

Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for anything. 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. ⸢An Attendant exits.⸣ Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward. You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?

OSWALD

So please you —

(He exits.)

LEAR

What says the fellow there? Call the clotpole back. ⸢A Knight exits.⸣ Where’s my Fool? Ho! I think the world’s asleep. ⸢Enter Knight again.⸣ How now? Where’s that mongrel?

KNIGHT

He says, my lord, your ⟨daughter⟩ is not well.

LEAR

Why came not the slave back to me when I called him?

KNIGHT

Sir, he answered 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 entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont. There’s a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependents as in the Duke himself also, and your daughter.

LEAR

Ha? Sayst 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 wronged.

LEAR

Thou but remembrest me of mine own conception. I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretense and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into ’t. But where’s my Fool? I have not seen him this two days.

KNIGHT

Since my young lady’s going into France, sir, the Fool hath much pined away.

LEAR

No more of that. I have noted it well. — Go you and tell my daughter I would speak with her. ⸢An Attendant exits.⸣ Go you call hither my Fool. ⸢Another exits.⸣ Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward. O you, sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?

OSWALD

My lady’s father.

LEAR

“My lady’s father”? My lord’s knave! You whoreson dog, you slave, you cur!

OSWALD

I am none of these, my lord, I beseech your pardon.

LEAR

Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

(⸢Lear strikes him.⸣)

OSWALD

I’ll not be strucken, my lord.

KENT

⸢tripping him⸣ Nor tripped neither, you base football player?

LEAR

I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv’st me, and I’ll love thee.

KENT

⸢to Oswald⸣ Come, sir, arise. Away. I’ll teach you differences. Away, away. If you will measure your lubber’s length again, tarry. But away. Go to. Have you wisdom? So.

(⸢Oswald exits.⸣)

LEAR

Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There’s earnest of thy service.

(⸢He gives Kent a purse.⸣)

(Enter Fool.)

FOOL

Let me hire him too. ⸢To Kent.⸣ Here’s my coxcomb.

(⸢He offers Kent his cap.⸣)

LEAR

How now, my pretty knave, how dost thou?

FOOL

⸢to Kent⸣ Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

LEAR

Why, my boy?

FOOL

Why? For taking one’s part that’s out of favor. ⸢To Kent.⸣ Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou ’lt catch cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has banished two on ’s daughters and did the third a blessing against his will. If thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. — How now, nuncle? Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters.

LEAR

Why, my boy?

FOOL

If I gave them all my living, I’d keep my coxcombs 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 whipped 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.

LEAR

Do.

FOOL

Mark it, nuncle:

Have more than thou showest. 122

Speak less than thou knowest, 123

Lend less than thou owest, 124

Ride more than thou goest, 125

Learn more than thou trowest, 126

Set less than thou throwest; 127

Leave thy drink and thy whore 128

And keep in-a-door, 129

And thou shalt have more 130

Than two tens to a score. 131

KENT

This is nothing, Fool.

FOOL

Then ’tis like the breath of an unfee’d lawyer. You gave me nothing for ’t. — Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?

LEAR

Why no, boy. Nothing can be made out of nothing.

FOOL

⸢to Kent⸣ Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to. He will not believe a Fool.

LEAR

A bitter Fool!

FOOL

Dost know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet one?

LEAR

No, lad, teach me.

FOOL

⟨That lord that counseled thee 144

To give away thy land, 145

Come place him here by me; 146

Do thou for him stand. 147

The sweet and bitter fool 148

Will presently appear: 149

The one in motley here, 150

The other found out there. 151

LEAR

Dost thou call me “fool,” boy?

FOOL

All thy other titles thou hast given away. That thou wast born with.

KENT

This is not altogether fool, my lord.

FOOL

No, faith, lords and great men will not let me. If I had a monopoly out, they would have part on ’t. And ladies too, they will not let me have all the fool to myself; they’ll be snatching.⟩ — Nuncle, give me an egg, 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 myself in this, let him be whipped that first finds it so.

(⸢Sings.⸣)

Fools had ne’er less grace in a year, 170

For wise men are grown foppish 171

And know not how their wits to wear, 172

Their manners are so apish. 173

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 thine own breeches,

(⸢Sings.⸣)

Then they for sudden joy did weep, 179

And I for sorrow sung, 180

That such a king should play bo-peep 181

And go the ⟨fools⟩ among. 182

Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy Fool to lie. I would fain learn to lie.

LEAR

An you lie, sirrah, we’ll have you whipped.

FOOL

I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They’ll have me whipped for speaking true, thou ’lt have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I am whipped 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’ the parings.

(Enter Goneril.)

LEAR

How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? 194

⟨Methinks⟩ you are too much of late i’ th’ frown. 195

FOOL

Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning. Now thou art an O without a figure. I am better than thou art now. I am a Fool. Thou art nothing. ⸢To Goneril.⸣ Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So your face bids me, though you say nothing.

Mum, mum, 202

He that keeps nor crust ⟨nor⟩ crumb, 203

Weary of all, shall want some. 204

(⸢He points at Lear.⸣)

That’s a shelled peascod.

GONERIL

Not only, sir, this your all-licensed Fool, 206

But other of your insolent retinue 207

Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth 208

In rank and not-to-be-endurèd riots. Sir, 209

I had thought by making this well known unto you 210

To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful, 211

By what yourself too late have spoke and done, 212

That you protect this course and put it on 213

By your allowance; which if you should, the fault 214

Would not ’scape censure, nor the redresses sleep 215

Which in the tender of a wholesome weal 216

Might in their working do you that offense, 217

Which else were shame, that then necessity 218

Will call discreet proceeding. 219

FOOL

For you know, nuncle,

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 221

That it’s had it head bit off by it young. 222

So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.

LEAR

Are you our daughter? 224

GONERIL

I would you would make use of your good wisdom, 225

Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away 226

These dispositions which of late transport you 227

From what you rightly are. 228

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. 231

Does Lear walk thus, speak thus? Where are his eyes? 232

Either his notion weakens, his discernings 233

Are lethargied — Ha! Waking? ’Tis not so. 234

Who is it that can tell me who I am? 235

FOOL

Lear’s shadow.

⟨LEAR

I would learn that, for, by the marks of sovereignty, 237

Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded 238

I had daughters. 239

FOOL

Which they will make an obedient father.⟩

LEAR

Your name, fair gentlewoman?

GONERIL

This admiration, sir, is much o’ th’ savor 242

Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 243

To understand my purposes aright. 244

As you are old and reverend, should be wise. 245

Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires, 246

Men so disordered, so debauched and bold, 247

That this our court, infected with their manners, 248

Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust 249

Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel 250

Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak 251

For instant remedy. Be then desired, 252

By her that else will take the thing she begs, 253

A little to disquantity your train, 254

And the remainders that shall still depend 255

To be such men as may besort your age, 256

Which know themselves and you. 257

LEAR

Darkness and devils! —

Saddle my horses. Call my train together. 258

(⸢Some exit.⸣)

Degenerate bastard, I’ll not trouble thee. 259

Yet have I left a daughter. 260

GONERIL

You strike my people, and your disordered rabble 261

Make servants of their betters. 262

(Enter Albany.)

LEAR

Woe that too late repents! — ⟨O, sir, are you come?⟩ 263

Is it your will? Speak, sir. — Prepare my horses. 264

(⸢Some exit.⸣)

Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, 265

More hideous when thou show’st thee in a child 266

Than the sea monster! 267

[ALBANY

Pray, sir, be patient.]

LEAR

⸢to Goneril⸣ Detested kite, thou liest. 268

My train are men of choice and rarest parts, 269

That all particulars of duty know 270

And in the most exact regard support 271

The worships of their name. O most small fault, 272

How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show, 273

Which, like an engine, wrenched my frame of nature 274

From the fixed place, drew from my heart all love 275

And added to the gall! O Lear, Lear, Lear! 276

(⸢He strikes his head.⸣)

Beat at this gate that let thy folly in 277

And thy dear judgment out. Go, go, my people. 278

(⸢Some exit.⸣)

ALBANY

My lord, I am guiltless as I am ignorant 279

[Of what hath moved you.] 280

LEAR

It may be so, my lord. —

Hear, Nature, hear, dear goddess, hear! 281

Suspend thy purpose if thou didst intend 282

To make this creature fruitful. 283

Into her womb convey sterility. 284

Dry up in her the organs of increase, 285

And from her derogate body never spring 286

A babe to honor her. If she must teem, 287

Create her child of spleen, that it may live 288

And be a thwart disnatured torment to her. 289

Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth, 290

With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks, 291

Turn all her mother’s pains and benefits 292

To laughter and contempt, that she may feel 293

How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is 294

To have a thankless child. — Away, away! 295

(⸢Lear and the rest of his train⸣ exit.)

ALBANY

Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? 296

GONERIL

Never afflict yourself to know more of it, 297

But let his disposition have that scope 298

As dotage gives it. 299

(Enter Lear ⸢and the Fool.⸣)

LEAR

What, fifty of my followers at a clap? 300

Within a fortnight? 301

ALBANY

What’s the matter, sir?

LEAR

I’ll tell thee. ⸢To Goneril.⸣ Life and death! I am ashamed 302

That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus, 303

That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, 304

Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! 305

Th’ untented woundings of a father’s curse 306

Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes, 307

Beweep this cause again, I’ll pluck you out 308

And cast you, with the waters that you loose, 309

To temper clay. ⟨Yea, is ’t come to this?⟩ 310

Ha! Let it be so. I have another daughter 311

Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable. 312

When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 313

She’ll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find 314

That I’ll resume the shape which thou dost think 315

I have cast off forever. 316

(He exits.)

GONERIL

Do you mark that?

ALBANY

I cannot be so partial, Goneril, 317

To the great love I bear you — 318

GONERIL

Pray you, 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, 323

And such a daughter, 324

Should sure to the slaughter, 325

If my cap would buy a halter. 326

So the Fool follows after. 327

(He exits.)

[GONERIL

This man hath had good counsel. A hundred knights! 328

’Tis politic and safe to let him keep 329

At point a hundred knights! Yes, that on every dream, 330

Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 331

He may enguard his dotage with their powers 332

And hold our lives in mercy. — Oswald, I say! 333

ALBANY

Well, you may fear too far.

GONERIL

Safer than trust too far.

Let me still take away the harms I fear, 336

Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart. 337

What he hath uttered I have writ my sister. 338

If she sustain him and his hundred knights 339

When I have showed th’ unfitness — 340

(Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.)

How now, Oswald?]

What, have you writ that letter to my sister? 341

OSWALD

Ay, madam.

GONERIL

Take you some company and away to horse. 343

Inform her full of my particular fear, 344

And thereto add such reasons of your own 345

As may compact it more. Get you gone, 346

And hasten your return. 347

(⸢Oswald exits.⸣)

No, no, my lord,

This milky gentleness and course of yours, 348

Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, 349

⸢You⸣ are much more at task for want of wisdom 350

Than praised for harmful mildness. 351

ALBANY

How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell. 352

Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well. 353

GONERIL

Nay, then —

ALBANY

Well, well, th’ event.

(They exit.)

Scene 5

(Enter Lear, Kent ⸢in disguise,⸣ Gentleman, and Fool.)

LEAR

⸢to Kent⸣ Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my daughter no further with anything 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.

(He exits.)

FOOL

If a man’s brains were in ’s heels, were ’t not in danger of kibes?

LEAR

Ay, boy.

FOOL

Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall not go slipshod.

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 canst tell, boy?

FOOL

She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one’s nose stands i’ th’ middle on ’s face?

LEAR

No.

FOOL

Why, to keep one’s eyes of either side ’s nose, that what a man cannot smell out he may spy into.

LEAR

I did her wrong.

FOOL

Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?

LEAR

No.

FOOL

Nor I neither. But I can tell why a snail has a house.

LEAR

Why?

FOOL

Why, to put ’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?

(⸢Gentleman exits.⸣)

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 wouldst make a good Fool.

LEAR

To take ’t again perforce! Monster ingratitude!

FOOL

If thou wert my Fool, nuncle, I’d have thee beaten for being old before thy time.

LEAR

How’s that?

FOOL

Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.

LEAR

O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! 45

Keep me in temper. I would not be mad! 46

(⸢Enter Gentleman.⸣)

How now, are the horses ready? 47

GENTLEMAN

Ready, my lord.

LEAR

Come, boy.

FOOL

She that’s a maid now and laughs at my departure, 50

Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter. 51

(They exit.)

ACT 2

Scene 1

(Enter ⸢Edmund, the⸣ Bastard and Curan, severally.)

EDMUND

Save thee, Curan.

CURAN

And ⟨you,⟩ sir. I have been with your father and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him this night.

EDMUND

How comes that?

CURAN

Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad? — I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments.

EDMUND

Not I. Pray you, what are they?

CURAN

Have you heard of no likely wars toward ’twixt the dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

EDMUND

Not a word.

CURAN

You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir.

(He exits.)

EDMUND

The Duke be here tonight? The better, best. 14

This weaves itself perforce into my business. 15

My father hath set guard to take my brother, 16

And I have one thing of a queasy question 17

Which I must act. Briefness and fortune work! — 18

Brother, a word. Descend. Brother, I say! 19

(Enter Edgar.)

My father watches. O sir, fly this place! 20

Intelligence is given where you are hid. 21

You have now the good advantage of the night. 22

Have you not spoken ’gainst the Duke of Cornwall? 23

He’s coming hither, now, i’ th’ night, i’ th’ haste, 24

And Regan with him. Have you nothing said 25

Upon his party ’gainst the Duke of Albany? 26

Advise yourself. 27

EDGAR

I am sure on ’t, not a word.

EDMUND

I hear my father coming. Pardon me. 28

In cunning I must draw my sword upon you. 29

Draw. Seem to defend yourself. Now, quit you well. 30

(⸢They draw.⸣)

Yield! Come before my father! Light, hoa, here! 31

Fly, brother. So, farewell. 32

(Edgar exits.)

Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 33

Of my more fierce endeavor. I have seen drunkards 34

Do more than this in sport. 35

(⸢He wounds his arm.⸣)

Father, father!

Stop, stop! No help? 36

(Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.)

GLOUCESTER

Now, Edmund, where’s the villain?

EDMUND

Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, 37

Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon 38

To stand auspicious mistress. 39

GLOUCESTER

But where is he?

EDMUND

Look, sir, I bleed. 40

GLOUCESTER

Where is the villain, Edmund?

EDMUND

Fled this way, sir, when by no means he could — 41

GLOUCESTER

Pursue him, ho! Go after. 42

(⸢Servants exit.⸣)

By no means what?

EDMUND

Persuade me to the murder of your Lordship, 43

But that I told him the revenging gods 44

’Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend, 45

Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond 46

The child was bound to th’ father — sir, in fine, 47

Seeing how loathly opposite I stood 48

To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion 49

With his preparèd sword he charges home 50

My unprovided body, ⟨lanced⟩ mine arm; 51

And when he saw my best alarumed spirits, 52

Bold in the quarrel’s right, roused to th’ encounter, 53

Or whether ghasted by the noise I made, 54

Full suddenly he fled. 55

GLOUCESTER

Let him fly far!

Not in this land shall he remain uncaught, 56

And found — dispatch. The noble duke my master, 57

My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight. 58

By his authority I will proclaim it 59

That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks, 60

Bringing the murderous coward to the stake; 61

He that conceals him, death. 62

EDMUND

When I dissuaded him from his intent 63

And found him pight to do it, with curst speech 64

I threatened to discover him. He replied 65

“Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think 66

If I would stand against thee, would the reposal 67

Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee 68

Make thy words faithed? No. What ⟨I should⟩ deny — 69

As this I would, though thou didst produce 70

My very character — I’d turn it all 71

To thy suggestion, plot, and damnèd practice. 72

And thou must make a dullard of the world 73

If they not thought the profits of my death 74

Were very pregnant and potential ⟨spurs⟩ 75

To make thee seek it.” 76

GLOUCESTER

O strange and fastened villain!

Would he deny his letter, said he? 77

⟨I never got him.⟩ 78

(Tucket within.)

Hark, the Duke’s trumpets. I know not ⟨why⟩ he comes. 79

All ports I’ll bar. The villain shall not ’scape. 80

The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture 81

I will send far and near, that all the kingdom 82

May have due note of him. And of my land, 83

Loyal and natural boy, I’ll work the means 84

To make thee capable. 85

(Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.)

CORNWALL

How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither, 86

Which I can call but now, I have heard strange ⟨news.⟩ 87

REGAN

If it be true, all vengeance comes too short 88

Which can pursue th’ offender. How dost, my lord? 89

GLOUCESTER

O madam, my old heart is cracked; it’s cracked. 90

REGAN

What, did my father’s godson seek your life? 91

He whom my father named, your Edgar? 92

GLOUCESTER

O lady, lady, shame would have it hid! 93

REGAN

Was he not companion with the riotous knights 94

That tended upon my father? 95

GLOUCESTER

I know not, madam. ’Tis too bad, too bad. 96

EDMUND

Yes, madam, he was of that consort. 97

REGAN

No marvel, then, though he were ill affected. 98

’Tis they have put him on the old man’s death, 99

To have th’ expense and waste of his revenues. 100

I have this present evening from my sister 101

Been well informed of them, and with such cautions 102

That if they come to sojourn at my house 103

I’ll not be there. 104

CORNWALL

Nor I, assure thee, Regan. —

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father 105

A childlike office. 106

EDMUND

It was my duty, sir.

GLOUCESTER

He did bewray his practice, and received 107

This hurt you see striving to apprehend him. 108

CORNWALL

Is he pursued? 109

GLOUCESTER

Ay, my good lord. 110

CORNWALL

If he be taken, he shall never more 111

Be feared of doing harm. Make your own purpose, 112

How in my strength you please. — For you, Edmund, 113

Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant 114

So much commend itself, you shall be ours. 115

Natures of such deep trust we shall much need. 116

You we first seize on. 117

EDMUND

I shall serve you, sir,

Truly, however else. 118

GLOUCESTER

For him I thank your Grace. 119

CORNWALL

You know not why we came to visit you — 120

REGAN

Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night. 121

Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some ⟨poise,⟩ 122

Wherein we must have use of your advice. 123

Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, 124

Of differences, which I best ⟨thought⟩ it fit 125

To answer from our home. The several messengers 126

From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, 127

Lay comforts to your bosom and bestow 128

Your needful counsel to our businesses, 129

Which craves the instant use. 130

GLOUCESTER

I serve you, madam.

Your Graces are right welcome. 131

(Flourish. They exit.)

Scene 2

(Enter Kent ⸢in disguise⸣ and ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward, severally.)

OSWALD

Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house?

KENT

Ay.

OSWALD

Where may we set our horses?

KENT

I’ th’ mire.

OSWALD

Prithee, if thou lov’st me, tell me.

KENT

I love thee not.

OSWALD

Why then, I care not for thee.

KENT

If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

OSWALD

Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

KENT

Fellow, I know thee.

OSWALD

What dost thou know me for?

KENT

A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into ⟨clamorous⟩ whining if thou deny’st the least syllable of thy addition.

OSWALD

Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou thus to rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee!

KENT

What a brazen-faced varlet art thou to deny thou knowest me! Is it two days ⟨ago⟩ since I tripped up thy heels and beat thee before the King? ⸢He draws his sword.⸣ Draw, you rogue, for though it be night, yet the moon shines. I’ll make a sop o’ th’ moonshine of you, you whoreson, cullionly barbermonger. Draw!

OSWALD

Away! I have nothing to do with thee.

KENT

Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King and take Vanity the puppet’s part against the royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or I’ll so carbonado your shanks! Draw, you rascal! Come your ways.

OSWALD

Help, ho! Murder! Help!

KENT

Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat slave! Strike!

(⸢He beats Oswald.⸣)

OSWALD

Help, ho! Murder, murder!

(Enter Bastard ⟨Edmund, with his rapier drawn,⟩ Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.)

EDMUND

How now, what’s the matter? Part!

KENT

With you, goodman boy, if you please. Come, I’ll flesh you. Come on, young master.

GLOUCESTER

Weapons? Arms? What’s the matter here? 48

CORNWALL

Keep peace, upon your lives! He dies that strikes again. What is the matter?

REGAN

The messengers from our sister and the King. 51

CORNWALL

What is your difference? Speak.

OSWALD

I am scarce in breath, my lord.

KENT

No marvel, you have so bestirred your valor. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.

CORNWALL

Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man?

KENT

A tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two years o’ th’ trade.

CORNWALL

Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

OSWALD

This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared at suit of his gray beard —

KENT

Thou whoreson zed, thou unnecessary letter! — My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the wall of a jakes with him. — Spare my gray beard, you wagtail?

CORNWALL

Peace, sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence? 71

KENT

Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege. 72

CORNWALL

Why art thou angry? 73

KENT

That such a slave as this should wear a sword, 74

Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, 75

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain 76

Which are ⟨too⟩ intrinse t’ unloose; smooth every passion 77

That in the natures of their lords rebel — 78

Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods — 79

⟨Renege,⟩ affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 80

With every ⟨gale⟩ and vary of their masters, 81

Knowing naught, like dogs, but following. — 82

A plague upon your epileptic visage! 83

⸢Smile⸣ you my speeches, as I were a fool? 84

Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, 85

I’d drive you cackling home to Camelot. 86

CORNWALL

What, art thou mad, old fellow? 87

GLOUCESTER

How fell you out? Say that. 88

KENT

No contraries hold more antipathy 89

Than I and such a knave. 90

CORNWALL

Why dost thou call him “knave”? What is his fault? 91

KENT

His countenance likes me not. 92

CORNWALL

No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers. 93

KENT

Sir, ’tis my occupation to be plain: 94

I have seen better faces in my time 95

Than stands on any shoulder that I see 96

Before me at this instant. 97

CORNWALL

This is some fellow

Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect 98

A saucy roughness and constrains the garb 99

Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he. 100

An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth! 101

An they will take it, so; if not, he’s plain. 102

These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness 103

Harbor more craft and more corrupter ends 104

Than twenty silly-ducking observants 105

That stretch their duties nicely. 106

KENT

Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity, 107

Under th’ allowance of your great aspect, 108

Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire 109

On ⸢flick’ring⸣ Phoebus’ front — 110

CORNWALL

What mean’st by this?

KENT

To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave, which for my part I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to ’t.

CORNWALL

⸢to Oswald⸣ What was th’ offense you gave him? 116

OSWALD

I never gave him any. 117

It pleased the King his master very late 118

To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; 119

When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure, 120

Tripped me behind; being down, insulted, railed, 121

And put upon him such a deal of man 122

That worthied him, got praises of the King 123

For him attempting who was self-subdued; 124

And in the fleshment of this ⟨dread⟩ exploit, 125

Drew on me here again. 126

KENT

None of these rogues and cowards 127

But Ajax is their fool. 128

CORNWALL

Fetch forth the stocks. —

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart, 129

We’ll teach you. 130

KENT

Sir, I am too old to learn.

Call not your stocks for me. I serve the King, 131

On whose employment I was sent to you. 132

You shall do small ⟨respect,⟩ show too bold malice 133

Against the grace and person of my master, 134

Stocking his messenger. 135

CORNWALL

Fetch forth the stocks. — As I have life and honor, 136

There shall he sit till noon. 137

REGAN

Till noon? Till night, my lord, and all night, too. 138

KENT

Why, madam, if I were your father’s dog, 139

You should not use me so. 140

REGAN

Sir, being his knave, I will. 141

CORNWALL

This is a fellow of the selfsame color 142

Our sister speaks of. — Come, bring away the stocks. 143

(Stocks brought out.)

GLOUCESTER

Let me beseech your Grace not to do so. 144

⟨His fault is much, and the good king his master 145

Will check him for ’t. Your purposed low correction 146

Is such as basest and ⸢contemned’st⸣ wretches 147

For pilf’rings and most common trespasses 148

Are punished with.⟩ The King must take it ill 149

That he, so slightly valued in his messenger, 150

Should have him thus restrained. 151

CORNWALL

I’ll answer that.

REGAN

My sister may receive it much more worse 152

To have her gentleman abused, assaulted 153

⟨For following her affairs. — Put in his legs.⟩ 154

(⸢Kent is put in the stocks.⸣)

CORNWALL

Come, my ⟨good⟩ lord, away. 155

(⸢All but Gloucester and Kent⸣ exit.)

GLOUCESTER

I am sorry for thee, friend. ’Tis the ⟨Duke’s⟩ pleasure, 156

Whose disposition all the world well knows 157

Will not be rubbed nor stopped. I’ll entreat for thee. 158

KENT

Pray, do not, sir. I have watched and traveled hard. 159

Some time I shall sleep out; the rest I’ll whistle. 160

A good man’s fortune may grow out at heels. 161

Give you good morrow. 162

GLOUCESTER

The Duke’s to blame in this. ’Twill be ill taken. 163

(He exits.)

KENT

Good king, that must approve the common saw, 164

Thou out of heaven’s benediction com’st 165

To the warm sun. 166

(⸢He takes out a paper.⸣)

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, 167

That by thy comfortable beams I may 168

Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles 169

But misery. I know ’tis from Cordelia, 170

Who hath most fortunately been informed 171

Of my obscurèd course, and shall find time 172

From this enormous state, seeking to give 173

Losses their remedies. All weary and o’erwatched, 174

Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold 175

This shameful lodging. 176

Fortune, good night. Smile once more; turn thy wheel. 177

(⟨Sleeps.⟩)

Scene 3

(Enter Edgar.)

EDGAR

I heard myself proclaimed, 1

And by the happy hollow of a tree 2

Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place 3

That guard and most unusual vigilance 4

Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may ’scape, 5

I will preserve myself, and am bethought 6

To take the basest and most poorest shape 7

That ever penury in contempt of man 8

Brought near to beast. My face I’ll grime with filth, 9

Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots, 10

And with presented nakedness outface 11

The winds and persecutions of the sky. 12

The country gives me proof and precedent 13

Of Bedlam beggars who with roaring voices 14

Strike in their numbed and mortifièd arms 15

Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary, 16

And, with this horrible object, from low farms, 17

Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills, 18

Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, 19

Enforce their charity. “Poor Turlygod! Poor Tom!” 20

That’s something yet. “Edgar” I nothing am. 21

(He exits.)

Scene 4

(Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.)

LEAR

’Tis strange that they should so depart from home 1

And not send back my ⟨messenger.⟩ 2

GENTLEMAN

As I learned,

The night before there was no purpose in them 3

Of this remove. 4

KENT

⸢waking⸣ Hail to thee, noble master.

LEAR

Ha? 5

Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime? 6

[KENT

No, my lord.]

FOOL

Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads, dogs and bears by th’ neck, monkeys by th’ loins, and men by th’ legs. When a ⟨man’s⟩ overlusty at legs, then he wears wooden netherstocks.

LEAR

What’s he that hath so much thy place mistook 12

To set thee here? 13

KENT

It is both he and she,

Your son and daughter. 14

LEAR

No. 15

KENT

Yes. 16

LEAR

No, I say. 17

KENT

I say yea. 18

LEAR

By Jupiter, I swear no. 19

[KENT

By Juno, I swear ay. 20

LEAR]

They durst not do ’t.

They could not, would not do ’t. ’Tis worse than murder 21

To do upon respect such violent outrage. 22

Resolve me with all modest haste which way 23

Thou might’st deserve or they impose this usage, 24

Coming from us. 25

KENT

My lord, when at their home

I did commend your Highness’ letters to them, 26

Ere I was risen from the place that showed 27

My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, 28

Stewed in his haste, half breathless, ⟨panting⟩ forth 29

From Goneril his mistress salutations; 30

Delivered letters, spite of intermission, 31

Which presently they read; on ⟨whose⟩ contents 32

They summoned up their meiny, straight took horse, 33

Commanded me to follow and attend 34

The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks; 35

And meeting here the other messenger, 36

Whose welcome, I perceived, had poisoned mine, 37

Being the very fellow which of late 38

Displayed so saucily against your Highness, 39

Having more man than wit about me, drew. 40

He raised the house with loud and coward cries. 41

Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 42

The shame which here it suffers. 43

[FOOL

Winter’s not gone yet if the wild geese fly that way.

Fathers that wear rags 46

Do make their children blind, 47

But fathers that bear bags 48

Shall see their children kind. 49

Fortune, that arrant whore, 50

Ne’er turns the key to th’ poor. 51

But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolors for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.]

LEAR

O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! 54

⸢Hysterica⸣ passio , down, thou climbing sorrow! 55

Thy element’s below. — Where is this daughter? 56

KENT

With the Earl, sir, here within. 57

LEAR

⸢to Fool and Gentleman⸣ Follow me not. Stay here. 58

(He exits.)

GENTLEMAN

Made you no more offense but what you speak of? 59

KENT

None. 60

How chance the King comes with so small a number? 61

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 laboring 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; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again. I would have none but knaves follow it, since a Fool gives it.

That sir which serves and seeks for gain, 75

And follows but for form, 76

Will pack when it begins to rain 77

And leave thee in the storm. 78

But I will tarry; the Fool will stay, 79

And let the wise man fly. 80

The knave turns fool that runs away; 81

The Fool no knave, perdie. 82

KENT

Where learned you this, Fool?

FOOL

Not i’ th’ stocks, fool.

(Enter Lear and Gloucester.)

LEAR

Deny to speak with me? They are sick? They are weary? 85

They have traveled all the night? Mere fetches, 86

The images of revolt and flying off. 87

Fetch me a better answer. 88

GLOUCESTER

My dear lord,

You know the fiery quality of the Duke, 89

How unremovable and fixed he is 90

In his own course. 91

LEAR

Vengeance, plague, death, confusion! 92

“Fiery”? What “quality”? Why Gloucester, Gloucester, 93

I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. 94

[GLOUCESTER

Well, my good lord, I have informed them so. 95

LEAR

“Informed them”? Dost thou understand me, man?] 96

GLOUCESTER

Ay, my good lord. 97

LEAR

The King would speak with Cornwall. The dear father 98

Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends service. 99

[Are they “informed” of this? My breath and blood!] 100

“Fiery”? The “fiery” duke? Tell the hot duke that — 101

No, but not yet. Maybe he is not well. 102

Infirmity doth still neglect all office 103

Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves 104

When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind 105

To suffer with the body. I’ll forbear, 106

And am fallen out with my more headier will, 107

To take the indisposed and sickly fit 108

For the sound man. 109

⸢Noticing Kent again.⸣ Death on my state! Wherefore

Should he sit here? This act persuades me 110

That this remotion of the Duke and her 111

Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. 112

Go tell the Duke and ’s wife I’d speak with them. 113

Now, presently, bid them come forth and hear me, 114

Or at their chamber door I’ll beat the drum 115

Till it cry sleep to death. 116

GLOUCESTER

I would have all well betwixt you. 117

(He exits.)

LEAR

O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down! 118

FOOL

Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ’em i’ th’ paste alive. She knapped ’em o’ th’ coxcombs with a stick and cried “Down, wantons, down!” ’Twas her brother that in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay.

(Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.)

LEAR

Good morrow to you both.

CORNWALL

Hail to your Grace.

(Kent here set at liberty.)

REGAN

I am glad to see your Highness.

LEAR

Regan, I think ⟨you⟩ are. I know what reason 127

I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, 128

I would divorce me from thy ⟨mother’s⟩ tomb, 129

Sepulch’ring an adult’ress. ⸢To Kent.⸣ O, are you free? 130

Some other time for that. — Belovèd Regan, 131

Thy sister’s naught. O Regan, she hath tied 132

Sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here. 133

I can scarce speak to thee. Thou ’lt not believe 134

With how depraved a quality — O Regan! 135

REGAN

I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope 136

You less know how to value her desert 137

Than she to scant her duty. 138

[LEAR

Say? How is that?

REGAN

I cannot think my sister in the least 139

Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance 140

She have restrained the riots of your followers, 141

’Tis on such ground and to such wholesome end 142

As clears her from all blame.] 143

LEAR

My curses on her.

REGAN

O sir, you are old.

Nature in you stands on the very verge 146

Of his confine. You should be ruled and led 147

By some discretion that discerns your state 148

Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you 149

That to our sister you do make return. 150

Say you have wronged her. 151

LEAR

Ask her forgiveness?

Do you but mark how this becomes the house: 152

(⸢He kneels.⸣)

“Dear daughter, I confess that I am old. 153

Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg 154

That you’ll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.” 155

REGAN

Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks. 156

Return you to my sister. 157

LEAR

⸢rising⸣ Never, Regan.

She hath abated me of half my train, 158

Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue 159

Most serpentlike upon the very heart. 160

All the stored vengeances of heaven fall 161

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, 162

You taking airs, with lameness! 163

CORNWALL

Fie, sir, fie!

LEAR

You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames 164

Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, 165

You fen-sucked fogs drawn by the powerful sun 166

To fall and blister! 167

REGAN

O, the blest gods! So will you wish on me 168

When the rash mood is on. 169

LEAR

No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse. 170

Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give 171

Thee o’er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce, but thine 172

Do comfort and not burn. ’Tis not in thee 173

To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, 174

To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 175

And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt 176

Against my coming in. Thou better know’st 177

The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 178

Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude. 179

Thy half o’ th’ kingdom hast thou not forgot, 180

Wherein I thee endowed. 181

REGAN

Good sir, to th’ purpose.

(Tucket within.)

LEAR

Who put my man i’ th’ stocks? 182

CORNWALL

What trumpet’s that?

REGAN

I know ’t — my sister’s. This approves her letter, 183

That she would soon be here. 184

(Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.)

Is your lady come?

LEAR

This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride 185

Dwells in the ⟨fickle⟩ grace of her he follows. — 186

Out, varlet, from my sight! 187

CORNWALL

What means your Grace?

LEAR

Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope 188

Thou didst not know on ’t. 189

(Enter Goneril.)

Who comes here? O heavens,

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 190

Allow obedience, if you yourselves are old, 191

Make it your cause. Send down and take my part. 192

⸢To Goneril.⸣ Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? 193

(⸢Regan takes Goneril’s hand.⸣)

O Regan, will you take her by the hand? 194

GONERIL

Why not by th’ hand, sir? How have I offended? 195

All’s not offense that indiscretion finds 196

And dotage terms so. 197

LEAR

O sides, you are too tough!

Will you yet hold? — How came my man i’ th’ stocks? 198

CORNWALL

I set him there, sir, but his own disorders 199

Deserved much less advancement. 200

LEAR

You? Did you?

REGAN

I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. 201

If till the expiration of your month 202

You will return and sojourn with my sister, 203

Dismissing half your train, come then to me. 204

I am now from home and out of that provision 205

Which shall be needful for your entertainment. 206

LEAR

Return to her? And fifty men dismissed? 207

No! Rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 208

To wage against the enmity o’ th’ air, 209

To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, 210

Necessity’s sharp pinch. Return with her? 211

Why the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took 212

Our youngest born — I could as well be brought 213

To knee his throne and, squire-like, pension beg 214

To keep base life afoot. Return with her? 215

Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 216

To this detested groom. 217

(⸢He indicates Oswald.⸣)

GONERIL

At your choice, sir.

LEAR

I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad. 218

I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell. 219

We’ll no more meet, no more see one another. 220

But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter, 221

Or, rather, a disease that’s in my flesh, 222

Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil, 223

A plague-sore or embossèd carbuncle 224

In my corrupted blood. But I’ll not chide thee. 225

Let shame come when it will; I do not call it. 226

I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 227

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. 228

Mend when thou canst. Be better at thy leisure. 229

I can be patient. I can stay with Regan, 230

I and my hundred knights. 231

REGAN

Not altogether so.

I looked not for you yet, nor am provided 233

For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister, 234

For those that mingle reason with your passion 235

Must be content to think you old, and so — 236

But she knows what she does. 237

LEAR

Is this well spoken?

REGAN

I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers? 238

Is it not well? What should you need of more? 239

Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger 240

Speak ’gainst so great a number? How in one house 241

Should many people under two commands 242

Hold amity? ’Tis hard, almost impossible. 243

GONERIL

Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance 244

From those that she calls servants, or from mine? 245

REGAN

Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you, 246

We could control them. If you will come to me 247

(For now I spy a danger), I entreat you 248

To bring but five-and-twenty. To no more 249

Will I give place or notice. 250

LEAR

I gave you all — 251

REGAN

And in good time you gave it. 252

LEAR

Made you my guardians, my depositaries, 253

But kept a reservation to be followed 254

With such a number. What, must I come to you 255

With five-and-twenty? Regan, said you so? 256

REGAN

And speak ’t again, my lord. No more with me. 257

LEAR

Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favored 258

When others are more wicked. Not being the worst 259

Stands in some rank of praise. ⸢To Goneril.⸣ I’ll go with thee. 260

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty, 261

And thou art twice her love. 262

GONERIL

Hear me, my lord.

What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, 263

To follow in a house where twice so many 264

Have a command to tend you? 265

REGAN

What need one?

LEAR

O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars 266

Are in the poorest thing superfluous. 267

Allow not nature more than nature needs, 268

Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. Thou art a lady; 269

If only to go warm were gorgeous, 270

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear’st, 271

Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need — 272

You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! 273

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man 274

As full of grief as age, wretched in both. 275

If it be you that stirs these daughters’ hearts 276

Against their father, fool me not so much 277

To bear it tamely. Touch me with noble anger, 278

And let not women’s weapons, water drops, 279

Stain my man’s cheeks. — No, you unnatural hags, 280

I will have such revenges on you both 281

That all the world shall — I will do such things — 282

What they are yet I know not, but they shall be 283

The terrors of the Earth! You think I’ll weep. 284

No, I’ll not weep. 285

I have full cause of weeping, but this heart 286

(Storm and tempest.)

Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws 287

Or ere I’ll weep. — O Fool, I shall go mad! 288

(⟨Lear, Kent, and Fool⟩ exit ⸢with Gloucester and the Gentleman.⸣)

CORNWALL

Let us withdraw. ’Twill be a storm. 289

REGAN

This house is little. The old man and ’s people 290

Cannot be well bestowed. 291

GONERIL

’Tis his own blame hath put himself from rest, 292

And must needs taste his folly. 293

REGAN

For his particular, I’ll receive him gladly, 294

But not one follower. 295

GONERIL

So am I purposed. Where is my lord of Gloucester? 296

CORNWALL

Followed the old man forth. 297

(Enter Gloucester.)

He is returned.

GLOUCESTER

The King is in high rage. 298

[CORNWALL

Whither is he going? 299

GLOUCESTER

He calls to horse,] but will I know not whither. 300

CORNWALL

’Tis best to give him way. He leads himself. 301

GONERIL

⸢to Gloucester⸣ My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. 302

GLOUCESTER

Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds 303

Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about 304

There’s scarce a bush. 305

REGAN

O sir, to willful men

The injuries that they themselves procure 306

Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. 307

He is attended with a desperate train, 308

And what they may incense him to, being apt 309

To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. 310

CORNWALL

Shut up your doors, my lord. ’Tis a wild night. 311

My Regan counsels well. Come out o’ th’ storm. 312

(They exit.)

ACT 3

Scene 1

(Storm still. Enter Kent ⸢in disguise,⸣ and a Gentleman, severally.)

KENT

Who’s there, besides foul weather? 1

GENTLEMAN

One minded like the weather, most unquietly. 2

KENT

I know you. Where’s the King? 3

GENTLEMAN

Contending with the fretful elements; 4

Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea 5

Or swell the curlèd waters ’bove the main, 6

That things might change or cease; ⟨tears his white hair, 7

Which the impetuous blasts with eyeless rage 8

Catch in their fury and make nothing of; 9

Strives in his little world of man to outscorn 10

The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain. 11

This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, 12

The lion and the belly-pinchèd wolf 13

Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs 14

And bids what will take all.⟩ 15

KENT

But who is with him?

GENTLEMAN

None but the Fool, who labors to outjest 16

His heart-struck injuries. 17

KENT

Sir, I do know you

And dare upon the warrant of my note 18

Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, 19

Although as yet the face of it is covered 20

With mutual cunning, ’twixt Albany and Cornwall, 21

[Who have — as who have not, that their great stars 22

Throned and set high? — servants, who seem no less, 23

Which are to France the spies and speculations 24

Intelligent of our state.] ⟨From France there comes a power 25

Into this scattered kingdom, who already, 26

Wise in our negligence, have secret feet 27

In some of our best ports and are at point 28

To show their open banner. Now to you: 29

If on my credit you dare build so far 30

To make your speed to Dover, you shall find 31

Some that will thank you, making just report 32

Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 33

The King hath cause to plain:⟩ [what hath been seen, 34

Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes, 35

Or the hard rein which both of them hath borne 36

Against the old kind king, or something deeper, 37

Whereof perchance these are but furnishings.] 38

⟨I am a gentleman of blood and breeding, 39

And from some knowledge and assurance offer 40

This office to you.⟩ 41

GENTLEMAN

I will talk further with you. 42

KENT

No, do not.

For confirmation that I am much more 43

Than my outwall, open this purse and take 44

What it contains. 45

(⸢Kent hands him a purse and a ring.⸣)

If you shall see Cordelia

(As fear not but you shall), show her this ring, 46

And she will tell you who that fellow is 47

That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm! 48

I will go seek the King. 49

GENTLEMAN

Give me your hand. Have you no more to say? 50

KENT

Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet: 51

That when we have found the King — in which your pain 52

That way, I’ll this — he that first lights on him 53

Holla the other. 54

(They exit ⸢separately.⸣)

Scene 2

(Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool.)

LEAR

Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow! 1

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout 2

Till you have drenched our steeples, ⟨drowned⟩ the cocks. 3

You sulph’rous and thought-executing fires, 4

Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts, 5

Singe my white head. And thou, all-shaking thunder, 6

Strike flat the thick rotundity o’ th’ world. 7

Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once 8

That makes ingrateful man. 9

FOOL

O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is better than this rainwater out o’ door. Good nuncle, in. Ask thy daughters’ blessing. Here’s a night pities neither wise men nor fools.

LEAR

Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain! 14

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters. 15

I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness. 16

I never gave you kingdom, called you children; 17

You owe me no subscription. Then let fall 18

Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave, 19

A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man. 20

But yet I call you servile ministers, 21

That will with two pernicious daughters join 22

Your high-engendered battles ’gainst a head 23

So old and white as this. O, ho, ’tis foul! 24

FOOL

He that has a house to put ’s head in has a good headpiece.

The codpiece that will house 27

Before the head has any, 28

The head and he shall louse; 29

So beggars marry many. 30

The man that makes his toe 31

What he his heart should make, 32

Shall of a corn cry woe, 33

And turn his sleep to wake. 34

For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.

LEAR

No, I will be the pattern of all patience. 37

I will say nothing. 38

(Enter Kent ⸢in disguise.⸣)

KENT

Who’s there? 39

FOOL

Marry, here’s grace and a codpiece; that’s a wise man and a fool.

KENT

Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love night 42

Love not such nights as these. The wrathful skies 43

Gallow the very wanderers of the dark 44

And make them keep their caves. Since I was man, 45

Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, 46

Such groans of roaring wind and rain I never 47

Remember to have heard. Man’s nature cannot carry 48

Th’ affliction nor the fear. 49

LEAR

Let the great gods

That keep this dreadful pudder o’er our heads 50

Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, 51

That hast within thee undivulgèd crimes 52

Unwhipped of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand, 53

Thou perjured, and thou simular of virtue 54

That art incestuous. Caitiff, to pieces shake, 55

That under covert and convenient seeming 56

Has practiced on man’s life. Close pent-up guilts, 57

Rive your concealing continents and cry 58

These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man 59

More sinned against than sinning. 60

KENT

Alack, bareheaded?

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel. 61

Some friendship will it lend you ’gainst the tempest. 62

Repose you there while I to this hard house — 63

More harder than the stones whereof ’tis raised, 64

Which even but now, demanding after you, 65

Denied me to come in — return and force 66

Their scanted courtesy. 67

LEAR

My wits begin to turn. —

Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold? 68

I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow? 69

The art of our necessities is strange 70

And can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. — 71

Poor Fool and knave, I have one part in my heart 72

That’s sorry yet for thee. 73

FOOL

⸢sings⸣ He that has and a little tiny wit, 74

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 75

Must make content with his fortunes fit, 76

Though the rain it raineth every day. 77

LEAR

True, ⟨my good⟩ boy. — Come, bring us to this hovel. 78

(⸢Lear and Kent⸣ exit.)

[FOOL

This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. I’ll speak a prophecy ere I go:

When priests are more in word than matter, 81

When brewers mar their malt with water, 82

When nobles are their tailors’ tutors, 83

No heretics burned but wenches’ suitors, 84

When every case in law is right, 85

No squire in debt, nor no poor knight; 86

When slanders do not live in tongues, 87

Nor cutpurses come not to throngs, 88

When usurers tell their gold i’ th’ field, 89

And bawds and whores do churches build, 90

Then shall the realm of Albion 91

Come to great confusion; 92

Then comes the time, who lives to see ’t, 93

That going shall be used with feet. 94

This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his time.

(He exits.])

Scene 3

(Enter Gloucester and Edmund.)

GLOUCESTER

Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house, charged me on pain of perpetual displeasure neither to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way sustain him.

EDMUND

Most savage and unnatural.

GLOUCESTER

Go to; say you nothing. There is division between the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I have received a letter this night; ’tis dangerous to be spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet. These injuries the King now bears will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed. We must incline to the King. I will look him and privily relieve him. Go you and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the King my old master must be relieved. There is strange things toward, Edmund. Pray you, be careful.

(He exits.)

EDMUND

This courtesy forbid thee shall the Duke 21

Instantly know, and of that letter too. 22

This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me 23

That which my father loses — no less than all. 24

The younger rises when the old doth fall. 25

(He exits.)

Scene 4

(Enter Lear, Kent ⸢in disguise,⸣ and Fool.)

KENT

Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter. 1

The tyranny of the open night ’s too rough 2

For nature to endure. 3

(Storm still.)

LEAR

Let me alone.

KENT

Good my lord, enter here. 4

LEAR

Wilt break my heart?

KENT

I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. 5

LEAR

Thou think’st ’tis much that this contentious storm 6

Invades us to the skin. So ’tis to thee. 7

But where the greater malady is fixed, 8

The lesser is scarce felt. Thou ’dst shun a bear, 9

But if ⟨thy⟩ flight lay toward the roaring sea, 10

Thou ’dst meet the bear i’ th’ mouth. When the mind’s free, 11

The body’s delicate. ⟨This⟩ tempest in my mind 12

Doth from my senses take all feeling else 13

Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! 14

Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand 15

For lifting food to ’t? But I will punish home. 16

No, I will weep no more. [In such a night 17

To shut me out? Pour on. I will endure.] 18

In such a night as this? O Regan, Goneril, 19

Your old kind father whose frank heart gave all! 20

O, that way madness lies. Let me shun that; 21

No more of that. 22

KENT

Good my lord, enter here.

LEAR

Prithee, go in thyself. Seek thine own ease. 23

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 24

On things would hurt me more. But I’ll go in. — 25

[In, boy; go first. — You houseless poverty — 26

Nay, get thee in. I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.] 27

(⸢Fool⸣ exits.)

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are, 28

That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 29

How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, 30

Your looped and windowed raggedness defend you 31

From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en 32

Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp. 33

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, 34

That thou may’st shake the superflux to them 35

And show the heavens more just. 36

[EDGAR

⸢within⸣ Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!

(Enter Fool.])

FOOL

Come not in here, nuncle; here’s a spirit. Help me, help me!

KENT

Give me thy hand. Who’s there?

FOOL

A spirit, a spirit! He says his name’s Poor Tom.

KENT

What art thou that dost grumble there i’ th’ straw? Come forth.

(Enter Edgar ⸢in disguise.⸣)

EDGAR

Away. The foul fiend follows me. Through the sharp hawthorn ⟨blows the cold wind.⟩ Hum! Go to thy ⟨cold⟩ bed and warm thee.

LEAR

Didst thou give all to thy daughters? And art thou come to this?

EDGAR

Who gives anything to Poor Tom, whom the foul fiend hath led ⟨through⟩ fire and through flame, through ⟨ford⟩ and whirlpool, 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-inched bridges to course his own shadow for a traitor? Bless thy five wits! Tom’s a-cold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do Poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there — and there again — and there.

(Storm still.)

LEAR

Has his daughters brought him to this pass? — 63

Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give ’em all? 64

FOOL

Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.

LEAR

Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air 67

Hang fated o’er men’s faults light on thy daughters! 68

KENT

He hath no daughters, sir.

LEAR

Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature 70

To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. 71

Is it the fashion that discarded fathers 72

Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? 73

Judicious punishment! ’Twas this flesh begot 74

Those pelican daughters. 75

EDGAR

Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill. Alow, alow, loo, loo.

FOOL

This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

EDGAR

Take heed o’ th’ foul fiend. Obey thy parents, keep thy word’s justice, 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?

EDGAR

A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress’ heart and did the act of darkness with her, swore as many oaths as I spake words and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust and waked to do it. Wine loved I ⟨deeply,⟩ dice dearly, and in woman out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders’ books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind; says suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa! Let him trot by.

(Storm still.)

LEAR

Thou wert better in a grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. — 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 on ’s are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come, unbutton here.

(⸢Tearing off his clothes.⸣)

FOOL

Prithee, 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, all the rest on ’s body cold. Enter Gloucester, with a torch. Look, here comes a walking fire.

EDGAR

This is the foul ⟨fiend⟩ Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew and walks ⟨till the⟩ first cock. He gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip, mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.

Swithold footed thrice the ’old, 121

He met the nightmare and her ninefold, 122

Bid her alight, 123

And her troth plight, 124

And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee. 125

KENT

How fares your Grace?

LEAR

What’s he?

KENT

Who’s there? What is ’t you seek?

GLOUCESTER

What are you there? Your names?

EDGAR

Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall newt, and the water; that, in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow dung for sallets, swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; who hath ⟨had⟩ three suits to his back, six shirts to his body,

Horse to ride, and weapon to wear; 139

But mice and rats and such small deer 140

Have been Tom’s food for seven long year. 141

Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin! Peace, thou 142

fiend! 143

GLOUCESTER

⸢to Lear⸣ What, hath your Grace no better company? 144

EDGAR

The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman. Modo he’s called, and Mahu.

GLOUCESTER

⸢to Lear⸣ Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile 147

That it doth hate what gets it. 148

EDGAR

Poor Tom’s a-cold. 149

GLOUCESTER

⸢to Lear⸣ Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer 150

T’ obey in all your daughters’ hard commands. 151

Though their injunction be to bar my doors 152

And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, 153

Yet have I ventured to come seek you out 154

And bring you where both fire and food is ready. 155

LEAR

First let me talk with this philosopher. 156

⸢To Edgar.⸣ What is the cause of thunder? 157

KENT

Good my lord, take his offer; go into th’ house. 158

LEAR

I’ll talk a word with this same learnèd Theban. — 159

What is your study? 160

EDGAR

How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin. 161

LEAR

Let me ask you one word in private. 162

(⸢They talk aside.⸣)

KENT

⸢to Gloucester⸣ Importune him once more to go, my lord. 163

His wits begin t’ unsettle. 164

GLOUCESTER

Canst thou blame him?

(Storm still.)

His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent! 165

He said it would be thus, poor banished man. 166

Thou sayest the King grows mad; I’ll tell thee, friend, 167

I am almost mad myself. I had a son, 168

Now outlawed from my blood. He sought my life 169

But lately, very late. I loved him, friend, 170

No father his son dearer. True to tell thee, 171

The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night’s this! 172

— I do beseech your Grace — 173

LEAR

O, cry you mercy, sir. 174

⸢To Edgar.⸣ Noble philosopher, your company. 175

EDGAR

Tom’s a-cold. 176

GLOUCESTER

⸢to Edgar⸣ In fellow, there, into th’ hovel. Keep thee warm. 177

LEAR

Come, let’s in all. 178

KENT

This way, my lord.

LEAR

⸢indicating Edgar⸣ With him.

I will keep still with my philosopher. 179

KENT

⸢to Gloucester⸣ Good my lord, soothe him. Let him take the fellow. 180

GLOUCESTER

⸢to Kent⸣ Take him you on. 181

KENT

⸢to Edgar⸣ Sirrah, come on: go along with us. 182

LEAR

Come, good Athenian. 183

GLOUCESTER

No words, no words. Hush. 184

EDGAR

Child Rowland to the dark tower came. 185

His word was still “Fie, foh, and fum, 186

I smell the blood of a British man.” 187

(They exit.)

Scene 5

(Enter Cornwall, and Edmund ⸢with a paper.⸣)

CORNWALL

I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.

EDMUND

How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of.

CORNWALL

I now perceive it was not altogether your brother’s evil disposition made him seek his death, but a provoking merit set awork by a reprovable badness in himself.

EDMUND

How malicious is my fortune that I must repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. O heavens, that this treason were not, or not I the detector.

CORNWALL

Go with me to the Duchess.

EDMUND

If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.

CORNWALL

True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension.

EDMUND

If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff his suspicion more fully. —

CORNWALL

I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt find a ⟨dearer⟩ father in my love.

(They exit.)

Scene 6

(Enter Kent ⸢in disguise,⸣ and Gloucester.)

GLOUCESTER

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.

KENT

All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience. The gods reward your kindness!

(⸢Gloucester⸣ exits.)

(Enter Lear, Edgar ⸢in disguise,⸣ and Fool.)

EDGAR

Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend.

FOOL

Prithee, 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 15

Come hissing in upon ’em! 16

⟨EDGAR

The foul fiend bites my back.

FOOL

He’s mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse’s health, a boy’s love, or a whore’s oath.

LEAR

It shall be done. I will arraign them straight. 20

⸢To Edgar.⸣ Come, sit thou here, most learnèd justice. 21

⸢To Fool.⸣ Thou sapient sir, sit here. ⸢Now,⸣ you she-foxes — 22

EDGAR

Look where he stands and glares! — Want’st thou eyes at trial, madam?

⸢Sings.⸣ Come o’er the ⸢burn,⸣ Bessy, to me — 25

FOOL

⸢sings⸣ Her boat hath a leak, 26

And she must not speak 27

Why she dares not come over to thee. 28

EDGAR

The foul fiend haunts Poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale. Hoppedance cries in Tom’s belly for two white herring. — Croak not, black angel. I have no food for thee.

KENT

⸢to Lear⸣ How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed. 33

Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? 34

LEAR

I’ll see their trial first. Bring in their evidence. 35

⸢To Edgar.⸣ Thou robèd man of justice, take thy place, 36

⸢To Fool.⸣ And thou, his yokefellow of equity, 37

Bench by his side. 38

⸢To Kent.⸣ You are o’ th’ commission;

Sit you, too. 39

EDGAR

Let us deal justly.

⸢Sings.⸣ Sleepest or wakest, thou jolly shepherd? 41

Thy sheep be in the corn. 42

And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, 43

Thy sheep shall take no harm. 44

Purr the cat is gray.

LEAR

Arraign her first; ’tis Goneril. I here take my oath before this honorable assembly, kicked the poor king her father.

FOOL

Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?

LEAR

She cannot deny it.

FOOL

Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint stool.

LEAR

And here’s another whose warped looks proclaim 52

What store her heart is made on. Stop her there! 53

Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place! 54

False justicer, why hast thou let her ’scape?⟩ 55

EDGAR

Bless thy five wits!

KENT

⸢to Lear⸣ O pity! Sir, where is the patience now 57

That you so oft have boasted to retain? 58

EDGAR

My tears begin to take his part so much 59

They mar my counterfeiting. 60

LEAR

The little dogs and all, 61

Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me. 62

EDGAR

Tom will throw his head at them. — Avaunt, you curs!

Be thy mouth or black or white, 65

Tooth that poisons if it bite, 66

Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, 67

Hound or spaniel, brach, or ⸢lym,⸣ 68

Bobtail ⟨tike,⟩ or ⟨trundle-tail,⟩ 69

Tom will make him weep and wail; 70

For, with throwing thus my head, 71

Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled. 72

Do de, de, de. Sessa! 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 make these hard hearts? ⸢To Edgar.⸣ 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 changed.

KENT

Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. 82

LEAR

⸢lying down⸣ 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.]

(Enter Gloucester.)

GLOUCESTER

⸢to Kent⸣ Come hither, friend. Where is the King my master? 87

KENT

Here, sir, but trouble him not; his wits are gone. 88

GLOUCESTER

Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms. 89

I have o’erheard a plot of death upon him. 90

There is a litter ready; lay him in ’t, 91

And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet 92

Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master. 93

If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, 94

With thine and all that offer to defend him, 95

Stand in assurèd loss. Take up, take up, 96

And follow me, that will to some provision 97

Give thee quick conduct. 98

⟨KENT

Oppressèd nature sleeps.

This rest might yet have balmed thy broken sinews, 99

Which, if convenience will not allow, 100

Stand in hard cure. 101

⸢To the Fool.⸣ Come, help to bear thy master.

Thou must not stay behind. 102

GLOUCESTER⟩

Come, come away.

(⸢All but Edgar⸣ exit, ⸢carrying Lear.⸣)

⟨EDGAR

When we our betters see bearing our woes, 103

We scarcely think our miseries our foes. 104

Who alone suffers suffers most i’ th’ mind, 105

Leaving free things and happy shows behind. 106

But then the mind much sufferance doth o’erskip 107

When grief hath mates and bearing fellowship. 108

How light and portable my pain seems now 109

When that which makes me bend makes the King bow! 110

He childed as I fathered. Tom, away. 111

Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray 112

When false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defile thee, 113

In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee. 114

What will hap more tonight, safe ’scape the King! 115

Lurk, lurk.⟩ 116

(⸢He exits.⸣)

Scene 7

(Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, ⸢Edmund, the⸣ Bastard, and Servants.)

CORNWALL

⸢to Goneril⸣ Post speedily to my lord your husband. Show him this letter. ⸢He gives her a paper.⸣ The army of France is landed. — Seek out the traitor Gloucester.

(⸢Some Servants exit.⸣)

REGAN

Hang him instantly.

GONERIL

Pluck out his eyes.

CORNWALL

Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, keep you our sister company. The revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke, where you are going, to a most festinate preparation; we are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us. — Farewell, dear sister. — Farewell, my lord of Gloucester. Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward. How now? Where’s the King?

OSWALD

My lord of Gloucester hath conveyed him hence. 16

Some five- or six-and-thirty of his knights, 17

Hot questrists after him, met him at gate, 18

Who, with some other of the lord’s dependents, 19

Are gone with him toward Dover, where they boast 20

To have well-armèd friends. 21

CORNWALL

Get horses for your mistress.

(⸢Oswald exits.⸣)

GONERIL

Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.

CORNWALL

Edmund, farewell. 24

(⸢Goneril and Edmund⸣ exit.)

Go seek the traitor Gloucester.

Pinion him like a thief; bring him before us. 25

(⸢Some Servants exit.⸣)

Though well we may not pass upon his life 26

Without the form of justice, yet our power 27

Shall do a court’sy to our wrath, which men 28

May blame but not control. 29

(Enter Gloucester and Servants.)

Who’s there? The traitor?

REGAN

Ingrateful fox! ’Tis he. 30

CORNWALL

Bind fast his corky arms. 31

GLOUCESTER

What means your Graces? Good my friends, consider 32

You are my guests; do me no foul play, friends. 33

CORNWALL

Bind him, I say. 34

REGAN

Hard, hard. O filthy traitor!

GLOUCESTER

Unmerciful lady as you are, I’m none. 35

CORNWALL

To this chair bind him. 36

(⸢Servants bind Gloucester.⸣)

Villain, thou shalt find —

(⸢Regan plucks Gloucester’s beard.⸣)

GLOUCESTER

By the kind gods, ’tis most ignobly done 37

To pluck me by the beard. 38

REGAN

So white, and such a traitor? 39

GLOUCESTER

Naughty lady,

These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin 40

Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your host; 41

With robber’s hands my hospitable favors 42

You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? 43

CORNWALL

Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? 44

REGAN

Be simple-answered, for we know the truth. 45

CORNWALL

And what confederacy have you with the traitors 46

Late footed in the kingdom? 47

REGAN

To whose hands

You have sent the lunatic king. Speak. 48

GLOUCESTER

I have a letter guessingly set down 49

Which came from one that’s of a neutral heart, 50

And not from one opposed. 51

CORNWALL

Cunning. 52

REGAN

And false. 53

CORNWALL

Where hast thou sent the King? 54

GLOUCESTER

To Dover. 55

REGAN

Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charged at peril — 56

CORNWALL

Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that. 57

GLOUCESTER

I am tied to th’ stake, and I must stand the course. 58

REGAN

Wherefore to Dover? 59

GLOUCESTER

Because I would not see thy cruel nails 60

Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister 61

In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. 62

The sea, with such a storm as his bare head 63

In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up 64

And quenched the stellèd fires; 65

Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. 66

If wolves had at thy gate howled that stern time, 67

Thou shouldst have said “Good porter, turn the key.” 68

All cruels else subscribe. But I shall see 69

The wingèd vengeance overtake such children. 70

CORNWALL

See ’t shalt thou never. — Fellows, hold the chair. — 71

Upon these eyes of thine I’ll set my foot. 72

GLOUCESTER

He that will think to live till he be old, 73

Give me some help! 74

(⸢As Servants hold the chair, Cornwall forces out one of Gloucester’s eyes.⸣)

O cruel! O you gods!

REGAN

One side will mock another. Th’ other too. 75

CORNWALL

If you see vengeance — 76

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

Hold your hand, my lord.

I have served you ever since I was a child, 77

But better service have I never done you 78

Than now to bid you hold. 79

REGAN

How now, you dog?

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

If you did wear a beard upon your chin, 80

I’d shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean? 81

CORNWALL

My villain?

(⟨Draw and fight.⟩)

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. 83

REGAN

⸢to an Attendant⸣ Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus? 84

(⟨She takes a sword and runs at him behind;⟩ kills him.)

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left 85

To see some mischief on him. O! 86

(⸢He dies.⸣)

CORNWALL

Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly! 87

(⸢Forcing out Gloucester’s other eye.⸣)

Where is thy luster now? 88

GLOUCESTER

All dark and comfortless! Where’s my son Edmund? — 89

Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature 90

To quit this horrid act. 91

REGAN

Out, treacherous villain!

Thou call’st on him that hates thee. It was he 92

That made the overture of thy treasons to us, 93

Who is too good to pity thee. 94

GLOUCESTER

O my follies! Then Edgar was abused. 95

Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him. 96

REGAN

Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell 97

His way to Dover. 98

(⸢Some Servants⸣ exit with Gloucester.)

How is ’t, my lord? How look you?

CORNWALL

I have received a hurt. Follow me, lady. — 99

Turn out that eyeless villain. Throw this slave 100

Upon the dunghill. — Regan, I bleed apace. 101

Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. 102

(⸢Cornwall and Regan⸣ exit.)

⟨⸢SECOND⸣ SERVANT

I’ll never care what wickedness I do 103

If this man come to good. 104

⸢THIRD⸣ SERVANT

If she live long

And in the end meet the old course of death, 105

Women will all turn monsters. 106

⸢SECOND⸣ SERVANT

Let’s follow the old earl and get the Bedlam 107

To lead him where he would. His roguish madness 108

Allows itself to anything. 109

⸢THIRD⸣ SERVANT

Go thou. I’ll fetch some flax and whites of eggs 110

To apply to his bleeding face. Now heaven help him! 111

(⸢They⸣ exit.⟩)

ACT 4

Scene 1

(Enter Edgar ⸢in disguise.⸣)

EDGAR

Yet better thus, and known to be contemned, 1

Than still contemned and flattered. To be worst, 2

The lowest and most dejected thing of Fortune, 3

Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear. 4

The lamentable change is from the best; 5

The worst returns to laughter. [Welcome, then, 6

Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace. 7

The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst 8

Owes nothing to thy blasts.] But who comes here? 9

(Enter Gloucester and an old man.)

My father, poorly led? World, world, O world, 10

But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 11

Life would not yield to age. 12

OLD MAN

O my good lord, I have been your tenant 13

And your father’s tenant these fourscore years. 14

GLOUCESTER

Away, get thee away. Good friend, begone. 15

Thy comforts can do me no good at all; 16

Thee they may hurt. 17

OLD MAN

You cannot see your way.

GLOUCESTER

I have no way and therefore want no eyes. 18

I stumbled when I saw. Full oft ’tis seen 19

Our means secure us, and our mere defects 20

Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar, 21

The food of thy abusèd father’s wrath, 22

Might I but live to see thee in my touch, 23

I’d say I had eyes again. 24

OLD MAN

How now? Who’s there?

EDGAR

O gods, who is ’t can say “I am at the worst”? 25

I am worse than e’er I was. 26

OLD MAN

’Tis poor mad Tom.

EDGAR

And worse I may be yet. The worst is not 27

So long as we can say “This is the worst.” 28

OLD MAN

Fellow, where goest? 29

GLOUCESTER

Is it a beggar-man?

OLD MAN

Madman and beggar too. 30

GLOUCESTER

He has some reason, else he could not beg. 31

I’ th’ last night’s storm, I such a fellow saw, 32

Which made me think a man a worm. My son 33

Came then into my mind, and yet my mind 34

Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more since. 35

As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods; 36

They kill us for their sport. 37

EDGAR

How should this be?

Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, 38

Ang’ring itself and others. — 39

GLOUCESTER

Is that the naked fellow? 40

OLD MAN

Ay, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

⟨Then, prithee,⟩ get thee away. If for my sake 41

Thou wilt o’ertake us hence a mile or twain 42

I’ th’ way toward Dover, do it for ancient love, 43

And bring some covering for this naked soul, 44

Which I’ll entreat to lead me. 45

OLD MAN

Alack, sir, he is mad. 46

GLOUCESTER

’Tis the time’s plague when madmen lead the blind. 47

Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure. 48

Above the rest, begone. 49

OLD MAN

I’ll bring him the best ’parel that I have, 50

Come on ’t what will. 51

(He exits.)

GLOUCESTER

Sirrah, naked fellow —

EDGAR

— I cannot daub it further. 52

GLOUCESTER

Come hither, fellow. 53

EDGAR

And yet I must. — 54

GLOUCESTER

Know’st thou the way to Dover?

EDGAR

Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been ⟨scared⟩ out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man’s son, from the foul fiend. ⟨Five fiends have been in Poor Tom at once: of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; ⸢Flibbertigibbet,⸣ of ⸢mopping⸣ and ⸢mowing,⸣ who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So, bless thee, master.⟩

GLOUCESTER

⸢giving him money⸣ Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens’ plagues 65

Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched 66

Makes thee the happier. Heavens, deal so still: 67

Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, 68

That slaves your ordinance, that will not see 69

Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly. 70

So distribution should undo excess 71

And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? 72

EDGAR

Ay, master. 73

GLOUCESTER

There is a cliff, whose high and bending head 74

Looks fearfully in the confinèd deep. 75

Bring me but to the very brim of it, 76

And I’ll repair the misery thou dost bear 77

With something rich about me. From that place 78

I shall no leading need. 79

EDGAR

Give me thy arm.

Poor Tom shall lead thee. 80

(They exit.)

Scene 2

(Enter Goneril and ⸢Edmund, the⸣ Bastard.)

GONERIL

Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband 1

Not met us on the way. 2

(⟨Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.⟩)

Now, where’s your master?

OSWALD

Madam, within, but never man so changed. 3

I told him of the army that was landed; 4

He smiled at it. I told him you were coming; 5

His answer was “The worse.” Of Gloucester’s treachery 6

And of the loyal service of his son 7

When I informed him, then he called me “sot” 8

And told me I had turned the wrong side out. 9

What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him; 10

What like, offensive. 11

GONERIL

⸢to Edmund⸣ Then shall you go no further.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit, 12

That dares not undertake. He’ll not feel wrongs 13

Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way 14

May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother. 15

Hasten his musters and conduct his powers. 16

I must change names at home and give the distaff 17

Into my husband’s hands. This trusty servant 18

Shall pass between us. Ere long you are like to hear — 19

If you dare venture in your own behalf — 20

A mistress’s command. Wear this; spare speech. 21

(⸢She gives him a favor.⸣)

Decline your head. 22

⸢She kisses him.⸣ This kiss, if it durst speak,

Would stretch thy spirits up into the air. 23

Conceive, and fare thee well. 24

EDMUND

Yours in the ranks of death. 25

(He exits.)

GONERIL

My most dear Gloucester!

[O, the difference of man and man!] 26

To thee a woman’s services are due; 27

My fool usurps my body. 28

OSWALD

Madam, here comes my lord.

(⟨He exits.⟩)

(Enter Albany.)

GONERIL

I have been worth the whistle. 30

ALBANY

O Goneril,

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind 31

Blows in your face. ⟨I fear your disposition. 32

That nature which contemns its origin 33

Cannot be bordered certain in itself. 34

She that herself will sliver and disbranch 35

From her material sap perforce must wither 36

And come to deadly use. 37

GONERIL

No more. The text is foolish. 38

ALBANY

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile. 39

Filths savor but themselves. What have you done? 40

Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed? 41

A father, and a gracious agèd man, 42

Whose reverence even the head-lugged bear would lick, 43

Most barbarous, most degenerate, have you madded. 44

Could my good brother suffer you to do it? 45

A man, a prince, by him so benefited! 46

If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 47

Send quickly down to tame ⸢these⸣ vile offenses, 48

It will come: 49

Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 50

Like monsters of the deep.⟩ 51

GONERIL

Milk-livered man,

That bear’st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; 52

Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 53

Thine honor from thy suffering; ⟨that not know’st 54

Fools do those villains pity who are punished 55

Ere they have done their mischief. Where’s thy drum? 56

France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, 57

With plumèd helm thy state begins ⸢to threat,⸣ 58

Whilst thou, a moral fool, sits still and cries 59

“Alack, why does he so?”⟩ 60

ALBANY

See thyself, devil!

Proper deformity ⟨shows⟩ not in the fiend 61

So horrid as in woman. 62

GONERIL

O vain fool!

⟨ALBANY

Thou changèd and self-covered thing, for shame 63

Bemonster not thy feature. Were ’t my fitness 64

To let these hands obey my blood, 65

They are apt enough to dislocate and tear 66

Thy flesh and bones. Howe’er thou art a fiend, 67

A woman’s shape doth shield thee. 68

GONERIL

Marry, your manhood, mew — ⟩ 69

(Enter a Messenger.)

⟨ALBANY

What news?⟩ 70

MESSENGER

O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall’s dead, 71

Slain by his servant, going to put out 72

The other eye of Gloucester. 73

ALBANY

Gloucester’s eyes?

MESSENGER

A servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse, 74

Opposed against the act, bending his sword 75

To his great master, who, ⟨thereat⟩ enraged, 76

Flew on him and amongst them felled him dead, 77

But not without that harmful stroke which since 78

Hath plucked him after. 79

ALBANY

This shows you are above,

You ⟨justicers,⟩ that these our nether crimes 80

So speedily can venge. But, O poor Gloucester, 81

Lost he his other eye? 82

MESSENGER

Both, both, my lord. —

This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer. 83

(⸢Giving her a paper.⸣)

’Tis from your sister. 84

GONERIL

One way I like this well.

But being widow and my Gloucester with her 85

May all the building in my fancy pluck 86

Upon my hateful life. Another way 87

The news is not so tart. — 88

(⟨She exits.⟩)

ALBANY

Where was his son when they did take his eyes? 89

MESSENGER

Come with my lady hither. 90

ALBANY

He is not here.

MESSENGER

No, my good lord. I met him back again. 91

ALBANY

Knows he the wickedness?

MESSENGER

Ay, my good lord. ’Twas he informed against him 93

And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment 94

Might have the freer course. 95

ALBANY

Gloucester, I live

To thank thee for the love thou show’d’st the King, 96

And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend. 97

Tell me what more thou know’st. 98

(They exit.)

⸢Scene 3⸣

(⟨Enter Kent ⸢in disguise⸣ and a Gentleman.)

KENT

Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you no reason?

GENTLEMAN

Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of, which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger that his personal return was most required and necessary.

KENT

Who hath he left behind him general?

GENTLEMAN

The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.

KENT

Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of grief?

GENTLEMAN

Ay, ⸢sir,⸣ she took them, read them in my presence, 12

And now and then an ample tear trilled down 13

Her delicate cheek. It seemed she was a queen 14

Over her passion, who, most rebel-like, 15

Fought to be king o’er her. 16

KENT

O, then it moved her.

GENTLEMAN

Not to a rage. Patience and sorrow ⸢strove⸣ 17

Who should express her goodliest. You have seen 18

Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and tears 19

Were like a better way. Those happy smilets 20

That played on her ripe lip ⸢seemed⸣ not to know 21

What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence 22

As pearls from diamonds dropped. In brief, 23

Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved 24

If all could so become it. 25

KENT

Made she no verbal question? 26

GENTLEMAN

Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of “father” 27

Pantingly forth, as if it pressed her heart; 28

Cried “Sisters, sisters, shame of ladies, sisters! 29

Kent, father, sisters! What, i’ th’ storm, i’ th’ night? 30

Let pity not be believed!” There she shook 31

The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 32

And clamor moistened. Then away she started, 33

To deal with grief alone. 34

KENT

It is the stars.

The stars above us govern our conditions, 35

Else one self mate and make could not beget 36

Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? 37

GENTLEMAN

No. 38

KENT

Was this before the King returned? 39

GENTLEMAN

No, since.

KENT

Well, sir, the poor distressèd Lear’s i’ th’ town, 40

Who sometime in his better tune remembers 41

What we are come about, and by no means 42

Will yield to see his daughter. 43

GENTLEMAN

Why, good sir?

KENT

A sovereign shame so elbows him — his own unkindness, 44

That stripped her from his benediction, turned her 45

To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights 46

To his dog-hearted daughters — these things sting 47

His mind so venomously that burning shame 48

Detains him from Cordelia. 49

GENTLEMAN

Alack, poor gentleman!

KENT

Of Albany’s and Cornwall’s powers you heard not? 51

GENTLEMAN

’Tis so. They are afoot. 52

KENT

Well, sir, I’ll bring you to our master Lear 53

And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause 54

Will in concealment wrap me up awhile. 55

When I am known aright, you shall not grieve 56

Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go 57

Along with me. 58

(⸢They⸣ exit.⟩)

Scene ⸢4⸣

(Enter with Drum and Colors, Cordelia, ⟨Doctor,⟩ Gentlemen, and Soldiers.)

CORDELIA

Alack, ’tis he! Why, he was met even now 1

As mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud, 2

Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, 3

With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckooflowers, 4

Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 5

In our sustaining corn. A century send forth. 6

Search every acre in the high-grown field 7

And bring him to our eye. 8

(⸢Soldiers exit.⸣)

What can man’s wisdom

In the restoring his bereavèd sense? 9

He that helps him take all my outward worth. 10

⟨DOCTOR⟩

There is means, madam. 11

Our foster nurse of nature is repose, 12

The which he lacks. That to provoke in him 13

Are many simples operative, whose power 14

Will close the eye of anguish. 15

CORDELIA

All blest secrets,

All you unpublished virtues of the earth, 16

Spring with my tears. Be aidant and remediate 17

In the good man’s ⟨distress.⟩ Seek, seek for him, 18

Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life 19

That wants the means to lead it. 20

(Enter Messenger.)

MESSENGER

News, madam.

The British powers are marching hitherward. 21

CORDELIA

’Tis known before. Our preparation stands 22

In expectation of them. — O dear father, 23

It is thy business that I go about. 24

Therefore great France 25

My mourning and importuned tears hath pitied. 26

No blown ambition doth our arms incite, 27

But love, dear love, and our aged father’s right. 28

Soon may I hear and see him. 29

(They exit.)

Scene ⸢5⸣

(Enter Regan and ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.)

REGAN

But are my brother’s powers set forth? 1

OSWALD

Ay, madam.

REGAN

Himself in person there? 2

OSWALD

Madam, with much ado. 3

Your sister is the better soldier. 4

REGAN

Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? 5

OSWALD

No, madam. 6

REGAN

What might import my sister’s letter to him? 7

OSWALD

I know not, lady. 8

REGAN

Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. 9

It was great ignorance, Gloucester’s eyes being out, 10

To let him live. Where he arrives he moves 11

All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone, 12

In pity of his misery, to dispatch 13

His nighted life; moreover to descry 14

The strength o’ th’ enemy. 15

OSWALD

I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. 16

REGAN

Our troops set forth tomorrow. Stay with us. 17

The ways are dangerous. 18

OSWALD

I may not, madam.

My lady charged my duty in this business. 19

REGAN

Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you 20

Transport her purposes by word? Belike, 21

Some things — I know not what. I’ll love thee much — 22

Let me unseal the letter. 23

OSWALD

Madam, I had rather —

REGAN

I know your lady does not love her husband; 24

I am sure of that; and at her late being here, 25

She gave strange eliads and most speaking looks 26

To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. 27

OSWALD

I, madam? 28

REGAN

I speak in understanding. Y’ are; I know ’t. 29

Therefore I do advise you take this note: 30

My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talked, 31

And more convenient is he for my hand 32

Than for your lady’s. You may gather more. 33

If you do find him, pray you, give him this, 34

And when your mistress hears thus much from you, 35

I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. 36

So, fare you well. 37

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, 38

Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. 39

OSWALD

Would I could meet ⟨him,⟩ madam. I should show 40

What party I do follow. 41

REGAN

Fare thee well.

(They exit.)

Scene ⸢6⸣

(Enter Gloucester and Edgar ⸢dressed as a peasant.⸣)

GLOUCESTER

When shall I come to th’ top of that same hill? 1

EDGAR

You do climb up it now. Look how we labor. 2

GLOUCESTER

Methinks the ground is even. 3

EDGAR

Horrible steep.

Hark, do you hear the sea? 4

GLOUCESTER

No, truly.

EDGAR

Why then, your other senses grow imperfect 5

By your eyes’ anguish. 6

GLOUCESTER

So may it be indeed.

Methinks thy voice is altered and thou speak’st 7

In better phrase and matter than thou didst. 8

EDGAR

You’re much deceived; in nothing am I changed 9

But in my garments. 10

GLOUCESTER

Methinks you’re better spoken.

EDGAR

Come on, sir. Here’s the place. Stand still. How fearful 11

And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low! 12

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air 13

Show scarce so gross as beetles. Halfway down 14

Hangs one that gathers samphire — dreadful trade; 15

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. 16

The fishermen that ⟨walk⟩ upon the beach 17

Appear like mice, and yond tall anchoring bark 18

Diminished to her cock, her cock a buoy 19

Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge 20

That on th’ unnumbered idle pebble chafes 21

Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more 22

Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight 23

Topple down headlong. 24

GLOUCESTER

Set me where you stand.

EDGAR

Give me your hand. You are now within a foot 25

Of th’ extreme verge. For all beneath the moon 26

Would I not leap upright. 27

GLOUCESTER

Let go my hand.

Here, friend, ’s another purse; in it a jewel 28

Well worth a poor man’s taking. Fairies and gods 29

Prosper it with thee. 30

(⸢He gives Edgar a purse.⸣)

Go thou further off.

Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. 31

EDGAR

⸢walking away⸣ Now fare you well, good sir. 32

GLOUCESTER

With all my heart.

EDGAR

Why I do trifle thus with his despair 33

Is done to cure it. 34

GLOUCESTER

O you mighty gods!

(⟨He kneels.⟩)

This world I do renounce, and in your sights 35

Shake patiently my great affliction off. 36

If I could bear it longer, and not fall 37

To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, 38

My snuff and loathèd part of nature should 39

Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! — 40

Now, fellow, fare thee well. 41

(⟨He falls.⟩)

EDGAR

Gone, sir. Farewell. —

And yet I know not how conceit may rob 42

The treasury of life, when life itself 43

Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought, 44

By this had thought been past. Alive or dead? — 45

Ho you, sir! Friend, hear you. Sir, speak. — 46

Thus might he pass indeed. Yet he revives. — 47

What are you, sir? 48

GLOUCESTER

Away, and let me die.

EDGAR

Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, 49

So many fathom down precipitating, 50

Thou ’dst shivered like an egg; but thou dost breathe, 51

Hast heavy substance, bleed’st not, speak’st, art sound. 52

Ten masts at each make not the altitude 53

Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. 54

Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again. 55

GLOUCESTER

But have I fall’n or no? 56

EDGAR

From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. 57

Look up a-height. The shrill-gorged lark so far 58

Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up. 59

GLOUCESTER

Alack, I have no eyes. 60

Is wretchedness deprived that benefit 61

To end itself by death? ’Twas yet some comfort 62

When misery could beguile the tyrant’s rage 63

And frustrate his proud will. 64

EDGAR

Give me your arm.

(⸢He raises Gloucester.⸣)

Up. So, how is ’t? Feel you your legs? You stand. 65

GLOUCESTER

Too well, too well. 66

EDGAR

This is above all strangeness.

Upon the crown o’ th’ cliff, what thing was that 67

Which parted from you? 68

GLOUCESTER

A poor unfortunate beggar.

EDGAR

As I stood here below, methought his eyes 69

Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, 70

Horns whelked and waved like the enragèd sea. 71

It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father, 72

Think that the clearest gods, who make them honors 73

Of men’s impossibilities, have preserved thee. 74

GLOUCESTER

I do remember now. Henceforth I’ll bear 75

Affliction till it do cry out itself 76

“Enough, enough!” and die. That thing you speak of, 77

I took it for a man. Often ’twould say 78

“The fiend, the fiend!” He led me to that place. 79

EDGAR

Bear free and patient thoughts. 80

(Enter Lear.)

But who comes here?

The safer sense will ne’er accommodate 81

His master thus. 82

LEAR

No, they cannot touch me for ⟨coining⟩. I am the King himself.

EDGAR

O, thou side-piercing sight!

LEAR

Nature’s above art in that respect. There’s your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a crowkeeper. Draw me a clothier’s yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace! This piece of toasted cheese will do ’t. There’s my gauntlet; I’ll prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, bird! I’ th’ clout, i’ th’ clout! Hewgh! Give the word.

EDGAR

Sweet marjoram.

LEAR

Pass.

GLOUCESTER

I know that voice.

LEAR

Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flattered me like a dog and told me I had the white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say “ay” and “no” to everything that I said “ay” and “no” to was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once and the wind to make me chatter, when the thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found ’em, there I smelt ’em out. Go to. They are not men o’ their words; they told me I was everything. ’Tis a lie. I am not ague-proof.

GLOUCESTER

The trick of that voice I do well remember. 106

Is ’t not the King? 107

LEAR

Ay, every inch a king.

When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. 108

I pardon that man’s life. What was thy cause? 109

Adultery? Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No. The wren goes to ’t, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight. Let copulation thrive, for Gloucester’s bastard son was kinder to his father than my daughters got ’tween the lawful sheets. To ’t, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. Behold yond simp’ring dame, whose face between her forks presages snow, that minces virtue and does shake the head to hear of pleasure’s name. The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to ’t with a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above. But to the girdle do the gods inherit; beneath is all the fiend’s. 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; sweeten my imagination. There’s money for thee.

GLOUCESTER

O, let me kiss that hand!

LEAR

Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

GLOUCESTER

O ruined piece of nature! This great world 129

Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me? 130

LEAR

I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squinny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid, I’ll not love. Read thou this challenge. Mark but the penning of it.

GLOUCESTER

Were all thy letters suns, I could not see. 135

EDGAR

I would not take this from report. It is, 136

And my heart breaks at it. 137

LEAR

Read.

GLOUCESTER

What, with the case of eyes?

LEAR

O ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light, yet you see how this world goes.

GLOUCESTER

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?

GLOUCESTER

Ay, sir.

LEAR

And the creature run from the cur? There thou might’st behold the great image of authority: a dog’s obeyed in office.

Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! 155

Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thy own back. 156

Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind 157

For which thou whipp’st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. 158

Through tattered clothes ⟨small⟩ vices do appear. 159

Robes and furred gowns hide all. [⸢Plate sin⸣ with gold, 160

And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. 161

Arm it in rags, a pygmy’s straw does pierce it. 162

None does offend, none, I say, none; I’ll able ’em. 163

Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 164

To seal th’ accuser’s lips.] Get thee glass eyes, 165

And like a scurvy politician 166

Seem to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. 167

Pull off my boots. Harder, harder. So. 168

EDGAR

O, matter and impertinency mixed, 169

Reason in madness! 170

LEAR

If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. 171

I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester. 172

Thou must be patient. We came crying hither; 173

Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air 174

We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee. Mark. 175

GLOUCESTER

Alack, alack the day!

LEAR

When we are born, we cry that we are come 177

To this great stage of fools. — This’ a good block. 178

It were a delicate stratagem to shoe 179

A troop of horse with felt. I’ll put ’t in proof, 180

And when I have stol’n upon these son-in-laws, 181

Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! 182

(Enter a Gentleman ⸢and Attendants.⸣)

GENTLEMAN

⸢noticing Lear⸣ O, here he is. 183

⸢To an Attendant.⸣ Lay hand upon him. — Sir,

Your most dear daughter — 184

LEAR

No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even 185

The natural fool of Fortune. Use me well. 186

You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons; 187

I am cut to th’ brains. 188

GENTLEMAN

You shall have anything.

LEAR

No seconds? All myself? 189

Why, this would make a man a man of salt, 190

To use his eyes for garden waterpots, 191

⟨Ay, and laying autumn’s dust.⟩ 192

I will die bravely like a smug bridegroom. What? 193

I will be jovial. Come, come, I am a king, 194

Masters, know you that? 195

GENTLEMAN

You are a royal one, and we obey you. 196

LEAR

Then there’s life in ’t. Come, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

(⟨The King exits running ⸢pursued by Attendants.⸣⟩)

GENTLEMAN

A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, 199

Past speaking of in a king. Thou hast a daughter 200

Who redeems nature from the general curse 201

Which twain have brought her to. 202

EDGAR

Hail, gentle sir. 203

GENTLEMAN

Sir, speed you. What’s your will? 204

EDGAR

Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? 205

GENTLEMAN

Most sure and vulgar. Everyone hears that, 206

Which can distinguish sound. 207

EDGAR

But, by your favor,

How near’s the other army? 208

GENTLEMAN

Near and on speedy foot. The main descry 209

Stands on the hourly thought. 210

EDGAR

I thank you, sir. That’s all.

GENTLEMAN

Though that the Queen on special cause is here, 212

Her army is moved on. 213

EDGAR

I thank you, sir.

(⸢Gentleman⸣ exits.)

GLOUCESTER

You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; 214

Let not my worser spirit tempt me again 215

To die before you please. 216

EDGAR

Well pray you, father. 217

GLOUCESTER

Now, good sir, what are you? 218

EDGAR

A most poor man, made tame to Fortune’s blows, 219

Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 220

Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand; 221

I’ll lead you to some biding. 222

(⸢He takes Gloucester’s hand.⸣)

GLOUCESTER

Hearty thanks.

The bounty and the benison of heaven 223

To boot, and boot. 224

(Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.)

OSWALD

⸢drawing his sword⸣ A proclaimed prize! Most happy!

That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh 225

To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, 226

Briefly thyself remember; the sword is out 227

That must destroy thee. 228

GLOUCESTER

Now let thy friendly hand

Put strength enough to ’t. 229

(⸢Edgar steps between Gloucester and Oswald.⸣)

OSWALD

Wherefore, bold peasant,

Dar’st thou support a published traitor? Hence, 230

Lest that th’ infection of his fortune take 231

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. 232

EDGAR

Chill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion.

OSWALD

Let go, slave, or thou diest! 234

EDGAR

Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. An ’chud ha’ bin zwaggered out of my life, ’twould not ha’ bin zo long as ’tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’ old man. Keep out, che vor’ ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder. Chill be plain with you.

OSWALD

Out, dunghill. 241

EDGAR

Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come, no matter vor your foins.

(⟨They fight.⟩)

OSWALD

⸢falling⸣ Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse. 244

If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body, 245

And give the letters which thou find’st about me 246

To Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out 247

Upon the English party. O, untimely death! Death! 248

(⟨He dies.⟩)

EDGAR

I know thee well, a serviceable villain, 249

As duteous to the vices of thy mistress 250

As badness would desire. 251

GLOUCESTER

What, is he dead? 252

EDGAR

Sit you down, father; rest you. 253

Let’s see these pockets. The letters that he speaks of 254

May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorry 255

He had no other deathsman. Let us see. 256

(⸢He opens a letter.⸣)

Leave, gentle wax, and, manners, blame us not. 257

To know our enemies’ minds, we rip their hearts. 258

Their papers is more lawful. 259

((Reads the letter.))

Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off. If your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done if he return the conqueror. Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my jail, from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me and supply the place for your labor. Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, ⟨and, for you, her own for venture,⟩ Goneril.

O indistinguished space of woman’s will! 269

A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life, 270

And the exchange my brother. — Here, in the sands 271

Thee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctified 272

Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time 273

With this ungracious paper strike the sight 274

Of the death-practiced duke. For him ’tis well 275

That of thy death and business I can tell. 276

GLOUCESTER

The King is mad. How stiff is my vile sense 277

That I stand up and have ingenious feeling 278

Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract. 279

So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs, 280

And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose 281

The knowledge of themselves. 282

(Drum afar off.)

EDGAR

Give me your hand.

Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum. 283

Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend. 284

(They exit.)

Scene 7

(Enter Cordelia, Kent ⸢in disguise,⸣ ⟨Doctor,⟩ and Gentleman.)

CORDELIA

O, thou good Kent, how shall I live and work 1

To match thy goodness? My life will be too short, 2

And every measure fail me. 3

KENT

To be acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid. 4

All my reports go with the modest truth, 5

Nor more, nor clipped, but so. 6

CORDELIA

Be better suited.

These weeds are memories of those worser hours. 7

I prithee put them off. 8

KENT

Pardon, dear madam.

Yet to be known shortens my made intent. 9

My boon I make it that you know me not 10

Till time and I think meet. 11

CORDELIA

Then be ’t so, my good lord. — How does the King? 12

⟨DOCTOR⟩

Madam, sleeps still. 13

CORDELIA

O, you kind gods, 14

Cure this great breach in his abusèd nature! 15

Th’ untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up, 16

Of this child-changèd father! 17

⟨DOCTOR⟩

So please your Majesty

That we may wake the King? He hath slept long. 18

CORDELIA

Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed 19

I’ th’ sway of your own will. Is he arrayed? 20

(Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants.)

GENTLEMAN

Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep, 21

We put fresh garments on him. 22

⸢DOCTOR⸣

Be by, good madam, when we do awake him. 23

I doubt ⟨not⟩ of his temperance. 24

⟨CORDELIA

Very well.

(⸢Music.⸣)

DOCTOR

Please you, draw near. — Louder the music there.⟩ 25

CORDELIA

⸢kissing Lear⸣ O, my dear father, restoration hang 26

Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss 27

Repair those violent harms that my two sisters 28

Have in thy reverence made. 29

KENT

Kind and dear princess.

CORDELIA

Had you not been their father, these white flakes 30

Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face 31

To be opposed against the jarring winds? 32

⟨To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder, 33

In the most terrible and nimble stroke 34

Of quick cross-lightning? To watch, poor perdu , 35

With this thin helm?⟩ Mine enemy’s dog, 36

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night 37

Against my fire. And wast thou fain, poor father, 38

To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn 39

In short and musty straw? Alack, alack, 40

’Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once 41

Had not concluded all. — He wakes. Speak to him. 42

⟨DOCTOR⟩

Madam, do you; ’tis fittest. 43

CORDELIA

How does my royal lord? How fares your Majesty? 44

LEAR

You do me wrong to take me out o’ th’ grave. 45

Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound 46

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 47

Do scald like molten lead. 48

CORDELIA

Sir, do you know me?

LEAR

You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die? 49

CORDELIA

Still, still, far wide. 50

⟨DOCTOR⟩

He’s scarce awake. Let him alone awhile. 51

LEAR

Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight? 52

I am mightily abused; I should e’en die with pity 53

To see another thus. I know not what to say. 54

I will not swear these are my hands. Let’s see. 55

I feel this pinprick. Would I were assured 56

Of my condition! 57

CORDELIA

O, look upon me, sir,

And hold your hand in benediction o’er me. 58

⟨No, sir,⟩ you must not kneel. 59

LEAR

Pray do not mock:

I am a very foolish fond old man, 60

Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less, 61

And to deal plainly, 62

I fear I am not in my perfect mind. 63

Methinks I should know you and know this man, 64

Yet I am doubtful, for I am mainly ignorant 65

What place this is, and all the skill I have 66

Remembers not these garments; nor I know not 67

Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me, 68

For, as I am a man, I think this lady 69

To be my child Cordelia. 70

CORDELIA

⸢weeping⸣ And so I am; I am. 71

LEAR

Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray, weep not. 72

If you have poison for me, I will drink it. 73

I know you do not love me, for your sisters 74

Have, as I do remember, done me wrong. 75

You have some cause; they have not. 76

CORDELIA

No cause, no cause.

LEAR

Am I in France? 77

KENT

In your own kingdom, sir. 78

LEAR

Do not abuse me. 79

⟨DOCTOR⟩

Be comforted, good madam. The great rage, 80

You see, is killed in him, ⟨and yet it is danger 81

To make him even o’er the time he has lost.⟩ 82

Desire him to go in. Trouble him no more 83

Till further settling. 84

CORDELIA

Will ’t please your Highness walk? 85

LEAR

You must bear with me. 86

Pray you now, forget, and forgive. I am old and foolish. 87

(⟨They exit. Kent and Gentleman remain.⟩)

⟨GENTLEMAN

Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?

KENT

Most certain, sir.

GENTLEMAN

Who is conductor of his people?

KENT

As ’tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.

GENTLEMAN

They say Edgar, his banished 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.

GENTLEMAN

The arbitrament is like to be bloody. Fare you well, sir.

(⸢He exits.⸣)

KENT

My point and period will be throughly wrought, 99

Or well, or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought. 100

(He exits.⟩)

ACT 5

Scene 1

(Enter, with Drum and Colors, Edmund, Regan, Gentlemen, and Soldiers.)

EDMUND

⸢to a Gentleman⸣ Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold, 1

Or whether since he is advised by aught 2

To change the course. He’s full of alteration 3

And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure. 4

(⸢A Gentleman exits.⸣)

REGAN

Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried. 5

EDMUND

’Tis to be doubted, madam. 6

REGAN

Now, sweet lord,

You know the goodness I intend upon you; 7

Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth, 8

Do you not love my sister? 9

EDMUND

In honored love.

REGAN

But have you never found my brother’s way 10

To the forfended place? 11

⟨EDMUND

That thought abuses you. 12

REGAN

I am doubtful that you have been conjunct 13

And bosomed with her as far as we call hers.⟩ 14

EDMUND

No, by mine honor, madam. 15

REGAN

I never shall endure her. Dear my lord, 16

Be not familiar with her. 17

EDMUND

Fear ⟨me⟩ not. She and the Duke, her husband. 18

(Enter, with Drum and Colors, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers.)

⟨GONERIL

I had rather lose the battle than that sister 19

Should loosen him and me.⟩ 20

ALBANY

Our very loving sister, well bemet. — 21

Sir, this I heard: the King is come to his daughter, 22

With others whom the rigor of our state 23

Forced to cry out. ⟨Where I could not be honest, 24

I never yet was valiant. For this business, 25

It touches us as France invades our land, 26

Not bolds the King, with others whom, I fear, 27

Most just and heavy causes make oppose. 28

EDMUND

Sir, you speak nobly.⟩ 29

REGAN

Why is this reasoned?

GONERIL

Combine together ’gainst the enemy, 30

For these domestic and particular broils 31

Are not the question here. 32

ALBANY

Let’s then determine

With th’ ancient of war on our proceeding. 33

⟨EDMUND

I shall attend you presently at your tent.⟩ 34

REGAN

Sister, you’ll go with us? 35

GONERIL

No. 36

REGAN

’Tis most convenient. Pray, go with us. 37

GONERIL

Oho, I know the riddle. — 38

(⸢They begin to exit.⸣)

(Enter Edgar ⸢dressed as a peasant.⸣)

EDGAR

⸢to Albany⸣ If e’er your Grace had speech with man so poor, 39

Hear me one word. 40

ALBANY

⸢to those exiting⸣ I’ll overtake you. — Speak.

(Both the armies exit.)

EDGAR

⸢giving him a paper⸣ Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. 41

If you have victory, let the trumpet sound 42

For him that brought it. Wretched though I seem, 43

I can produce a champion that will prove 44

What is avouchèd there. If you miscarry, 45

Your business of the world hath so an end, 46

And machination ceases. Fortune ⟨love⟩ you. 47

ALBANY

Stay till I have read the letter. 48

EDGAR

I was forbid it. 49

When time shall serve, let but the herald cry 50

And I’ll appear again. 51

(He exits.)

ALBANY

Why, fare thee well. I will o’erlook thy paper. 52

(Enter Edmund.)

EDMUND

The enemy’s in view. Draw up your powers. 53

(⸢Giving him a paper.⸣)

Here is the guess of their true strength and forces 54

By diligent discovery. But your haste 55

Is now urged on you. 56

ALBANY

We will greet the time.

(He exits.)

EDMUND

To both these sisters have I sworn my love, 57

Each jealous of the other as the stung 58

Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take? 59

Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enjoyed 60

If both remain alive. To take the widow 61

Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril, 62

And hardly shall I carry out my side, 63

Her husband being alive. Now, then, we’ll use 64

His countenance for the battle, which, being done, 65

Let her who would be rid of him devise 66

His speedy taking off. As for the mercy 67

Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, 68

The battle done and they within our power, 69

Shall never see his pardon, for my state 70

Stands on me to defend, not to debate. 71

(He exits.)

Scene 2

(Alarum within. Enter, with Drum and Colors, Lear, Cordelia, and Soldiers, over the stage, and exit.)

(Enter Edgar and Gloucester.)

EDGAR

Here, father, take the shadow of this tree 1

For your good host. Pray that the right may thrive. 2

If ever I return to you again, 3

I’ll bring you comfort. 4

GLOUCESTER

Grace go with you, sir.

(⸢Edgar⸣ exits.)

(Alarum and Retreat within.)

(Enter Edgar.)

EDGAR

Away, old man. Give me thy hand. Away. 5

King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta’en. 6

Give me thy hand. Come on. 7

GLOUCESTER

No further, sir. A man may rot even here. 8

EDGAR

What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure 9

Their going hence even as their coming hither. 10

Ripeness is all. Come on. 11

[GLOUCESTER

And that’s true too.]

(They exit.)

Scene 3

(Enter in conquest, with Drum and Colors, Edmund; Lear and Cordelia as prisoners; Soldiers, Captain.)

EDMUND

Some officers take them away. Good guard 1

Until their greater pleasures first be known 2

That are to censure them. 3

CORDELIA

⸢to Lear⸣ We are not the first

Who with best meaning have incurred the worst. 4

For thee, oppressèd king, I am cast down. 5

Myself could else outfrown false Fortune’s frown. 6

Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? 7

LEAR

No, no, no, no. Come, let’s away to prison. 8

We two alone will sing like birds i’ th’ cage. 9

When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down 10

And ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live, 11

And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 12

At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 13

Talk of court news, and we’ll talk with them too — 14

Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out — 15

And take upon ’s the mystery of things, 16

As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out, 17

In a walled prison, packs and sects of great ones 18

That ebb and flow by th’ moon. 19

EDMUND

Take them away.

LEAR

Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 20

The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? 21

He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven 22

And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes. 23

The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell, 24

Ere they shall make us weep. We’ll see ’em starved first. 25

Come. 26

(⸢Lear and Cordelia⸣ exit, ⸢with Soldiers.⸣)

EDMUND

Come hither, captain. Hark. 27

(⸢Handing him a paper.⸣)

Take thou this note. Go follow them to prison. 28

One step I have advanced thee. If thou dost 29

As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way 30

To noble fortunes. Know thou this: that men 31

Are as the time is; to be tender-minded 32

Does not become a sword. Thy great employment 33

Will not bear question. Either say thou ’lt do ’t, 34

Or thrive by other means. 35

CAPTAIN

I’ll do ’t, my lord.

EDMUND

About it, and write “happy” when th’ hast done. 36

Mark, I say, instantly, and carry it so 37

As I have set it down. 38

⟨CAPTAIN

I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats. 39

If it be man’s work, I’ll do ’t.⟩ 40

(Captain exits.)

(Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Soldiers ⸢and a Captain.⸣)

ALBANY

⸢to Edmund⸣ Sir, you have showed today your valiant strain, 41

And Fortune led you well. You have the captives 42

Who were the opposites of this day’s strife. 43

I do require them of you, so to use them 44

As we shall find their merits and our safety 45

May equally determine. 46

EDMUND

Sir, I thought it fit 47

To send the old and miserable king 48

To some retention ⟨and appointed guard,⟩ 49

Whose age had charms in it, whose title more, 50

To pluck the common bosom on his side 51

And turn our impressed lances in our eyes, 52

Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen, 53

My reason all the same, and they are ready 54

Tomorrow, or at further space, t’ appear 55

Where you shall hold your session. ⟨At this time 56

We sweat and bleed. The friend hath lost his friend, 57

And the best quarrels in the heat are cursed 58

By those that feel their sharpness. 59

The question of Cordelia and her father 60

Requires a fitter place.⟩ 61

ALBANY

Sir, by your patience,

I hold you but a subject of this war, 62

Not as a brother. 63

REGAN

That’s as we list to grace him.

Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded 64

Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers, 65

Bore the commission of my place and person, 66

The which immediacy may well stand up 67

And call itself your brother. 68

GONERIL

Not so hot.

In his own grace he doth exalt himself 69

More than in your addition. 70

REGAN

In my rights,

By me invested, he compeers the best. 71

⟨GONERIL⟩

That were the most if he should husband you. 72

REGAN

Jesters do oft prove prophets. 73

GONERIL

Holla, holla!

That eye that told you so looked but asquint. 74

REGAN

Lady, I am not well, else I should answer 75

From a full-flowing stomach. ⸢To Edmund.⸣ General, 76

Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony. 77

[Dispose of them, of me; the walls is thine.] 78

Witness the world that I create thee here 79

My lord and master. 80

GONERIL

Mean you to enjoy him?

ALBANY

The let-alone lies not in your goodwill. 81

EDMUND

Nor in thine, lord. 82

ALBANY

Half-blooded fellow, yes.

REGAN

⸢to Edmund⸣ Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. 83

ALBANY

Stay yet, hear reason. — Edmund, I arrest thee 84

On capital treason; and, in ⟨thine attaint,⟩ 85

This gilded serpent. — For your claim, fair ⟨sister,⟩ 86

I bar it in the interest of my wife. 87

’Tis she is subcontracted to this lord, 88

And I, her husband, contradict your banns. 89

If you will marry, make your loves to me. 90

My lady is bespoke. 91

[GONERIL

An interlude!]

ALBANY

Thou art armed, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. 92

If none appear to prove upon thy person 93

Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, 94

There is my pledge. 95

(⸢He throws down a glove.⸣)

I’ll make it on thy heart,

Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less 96

Than I have here proclaimed thee. 97

REGAN

Sick, O, sick! 98

GONERIL

If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine. 99

EDMUND

There’s my exchange. 100

(⸢He throws down a glove.⸣)

What in the world ⟨he is⟩

That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. 101

Call by the trumpet. He that dares approach, 102

On him, on you, who not, I will maintain 103

My truth and honor firmly. 104

ALBANY

A herald, ho! 105

⟨EDMUND

A herald, ho, a herald!⟩

⟨ALBANY⟩

Trust to thy single virtue, for thy soldiers, 106

All levied in my name, have in my name 107

Took their discharge. 108

REGAN

My sickness grows upon me.

ALBANY

She is not well. Convey her to my tent. 109

(⸢Regan is helped to exit.⸣)

(Enter a Herald.)

Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound, 110

And read out this. 111

(⸢He hands the Herald a paper.⸣)

⟨CAPTAIN

Sound, trumpet!⟩

(A trumpet sounds.)

HERALD

(reads.) If any man of quality or degree, within the lists of the army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defense. [First trumpet ⸢sounds. Again! Second trumpet ⸢sounds.⸣ Again!

(Third trumpet ⸢sounds.⸣)

(Trumpet answers within.])

(Enter Edgar armed.)

ALBANY

⸢to Herald⸣ Ask him his purposes, why he appears 120

Upon this call o’ th’ trumpet. 121

HERALD

What are you?

Your name, your quality, and why you answer 122

This present summons? 123

EDGAR

Know my name is lost,

By treason’s tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit. 124

Yet am I noble as the adversary 125

I come to cope. 126

ALBANY

Which is that adversary?

EDGAR

What’s he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester? 127

EDMUND

Himself. What sayest thou to him? 128

EDGAR

Draw thy sword,

That if my speech offend a noble heart, 129

Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine. 130

(⸢He draws his sword.⸣)

Behold, it is my privilege, the privilege of mine honors, 131

My oath, and my profession. I protest, 132

Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence, 133

⟨Despite⟩ thy victor-sword and fire-new fortune, 134

Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a traitor, 135

False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father, 136

Conspirant ’gainst this high illustrious prince, 137

And from th’ extremest upward of thy head 138

To the descent and dust below thy foot, 139

A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou “no,” 140

This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent 141

To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, 142

Thou liest. 143

EDMUND

In wisdom I should ask thy name,

But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, 144

And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, 145

[What safe and nicely I might well delay] 146

By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn. 147

Back do I toss these treasons to thy head, 148

With the hell-hated lie o’erwhelm thy heart, 149

Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise, 150

This sword of mine shall give them instant way, 151

Where they shall rest forever. Trumpets, speak! 152

(⸢He draws his sword.⸣ Alarums. Fights.)

(⸢Edmund falls, wounded.⸣)

ALBANY

⸢to Edgar⸣ Save him, save him! 153

GONERIL

This is practice, Gloucester.

By th’ law of war, thou wast not bound to answer 154

An unknown opposite. Thou art not vanquished, 155

But cozened and beguiled. 156

ALBANY

Shut your mouth, dame,

Or with this paper shall I ⟨stopple⟩ it. — Hold, sir. — 157

Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil. 158

No tearing, lady. I perceive you know it. 159

GONERIL

Say if I do; the laws are mine, not thine. 160

Who can arraign me for ’t? 161

ALBANY

Most monstrous! O!

Know’st thou this paper? 162

⟨GONERIL⟩

Ask me not what I know.

(She exits.)

ALBANY

Go after her, she’s desperate. Govern her. 163

(⸢A Soldier exits.⸣)

EDMUND

⸢to Edgar⸣ What you have charged me with, that have I done, 164

And more, much more. The time will bring it out. 165

’Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou 166

That hast this fortune on me? If thou ’rt noble, 167

I do forgive thee. 168

EDGAR

Let’s exchange charity.

I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; 169

If more, the more th’ hast wronged me. 170

My name is Edgar and thy father’s son. 171

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 172

Make instruments to plague us. 173

The dark and vicious place where thee he got 174

Cost him his eyes. 175

EDMUND

Th’ hast spoken right. ’Tis true.

The wheel is come full circle; I am here. 176

ALBANY

⸢to Edgar⸣ Methought thy very gait did prophesy 177

A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee. 178

Let sorrow split my heart if ever I 179

Did hate thee or thy father! 180

EDGAR

Worthy prince, I know ’t. 181

ALBANY

Where have you hid yourself? 182

How have you known the miseries of your father? 183

EDGAR

By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale, 184

And when ’tis told, O, that my heart would burst! 185

The bloody proclamation to escape 186

That followed me so near — O, our lives’ sweetness, 187

That we the pain of death would hourly die 188

Rather than die at once! — taught me to shift 189

Into a madman’s rags, t’ assume a semblance 190

That very dogs disdained, and in this habit 191

Met I my father with his bleeding rings, 192

Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, 193

Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair. 194

Never — O fault! — revealed myself unto him 195

Until some half hour past, when I was armed. 196

Not sure, though hoping of this good success, 197

I asked his blessing, and from first to last 198

Told him our pilgrimage. But his flawed heart 199

(Alack, too weak the conflict to support) 200

’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, 201

Burst smilingly. 202

EDMUND

This speech of yours hath moved me,

And shall perchance do good. But speak you on. 203

You look as you had something more to say. 204

ALBANY

If there be more, more woeful, hold it in, 205

For I am almost ready to dissolve, 206

Hearing of this. 207

⟨EDGAR

This would have seemed a period

To such as love not sorrow; but another, 208

To amplify too much, would make much more 209

And top extremity. Whilst I 210

Was big in clamor, came there in a man 211

Who, having seen me in my worst estate, 212

Shunned my abhorred society; but then, finding 213

Who ’twas that so endured, with his strong arms 214

He fastened on my neck and bellowed out 215

As he’d burst heaven, threw ⸢him⸣ on my father, 216

Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him 217

That ever ear received, which, in recounting, 218

His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 219

Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded, 220

And there I left him tranced. 221

ALBANY

But who was this?

EDGAR

Kent, sir, the banished Kent, who in disguise 222

Followed his enemy king and did him service 223

Improper for a slave.⟩ 224

(Enter a Gentleman ⟨with a bloody knife.⟩)

GENTLEMAN

Help, help, O, help! 225

EDGAR

What kind of help? 226

[ALBANY

⸢to Gentleman⸣ Speak, man!] 227

EDGAR

What means this bloody knife? 228

GENTLEMAN

’Tis hot, it smokes! It came even from the heart 229

Of — O, she’s dead! 230

ALBANY

Who dead? Speak, man. 231

GENTLEMAN

Your lady, sir, your lady. And her sister 232

By her is poisoned. She confesses it. 233

EDMUND

I was contracted to them both. All three 234

Now marry in an instant. 235

[EDGAR

Here comes Kent.

(Enter Kent.])

ALBANY

⸢to the Gentleman⸣ Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead. 236

(⸢Gentleman exits.⸣)

This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble, 237

Touches us not with pity. O, is this he? 238

⸢To Kent.⸣ The time will not allow the compliment 239

Which very manners urges. 240

KENT

I am come

To bid my king and master aye goodnight. 241

Is he not here? 242

ALBANY

Great thing of us forgot!

Speak, Edmund, where’s the King? And where’s Cordelia? 243

(Goneril and Regan’s bodies brought out.)

Seest thou this object, Kent? 244

KENT

Alack, why thus? 245

EDMUND

Yet Edmund was beloved. 246

The one the other poisoned for my sake, 247

And after slew herself. 248

ALBANY

Even so. — Cover their faces. 249

EDMUND

I pant for life. Some good I mean to do 250

Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send — 251

Be brief in it — to th’ castle, for my writ 252

Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia. 253

Nay, send in time. 254

ALBANY

Run, run, O, run!

EDGAR

To who, my lord? ⸢To Edmund.⸣ Who has the office? Send 255

Thy token of reprieve. 256

EDMUND

Well thought on. Take my sword. Give it the Captain. 257

EDGAR

⸢to a Soldier⸣ Haste thee for thy life. 258

(⸢The Soldier exits with Edmund’s sword.⸣)

EDMUND

⸢to Albany⸣ He hath commission from thy wife and me 259

To hang Cordelia in the prison, and 260

To lay the blame upon her own despair, 261

That she fordid herself. 262

ALBANY

The gods defend her! — Bear him hence awhile. 263

(⸢Edmund is carried off.⸣)

(Enter Lear with Cordelia in his arms, ⸢followed by a Gentleman.⸣)

LEAR

Howl, howl, howl! O, ⟨you⟩ are men of stones! 264

Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so 265

That heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone forever. 266

I know when one is dead and when one lives. 267

She’s dead as earth. — Lend me a looking glass. 268

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, 269

Why, then she lives. 270

KENT

Is this the promised end?

EDGAR

Or image of that horror? 271

ALBANY

Fall and cease.

LEAR

This feather stirs. She lives. If it be so, 272

It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows 273

That ever I have felt. 274

KENT

O, my good master —

LEAR

Prithee, away. 275

EDGAR

’Tis noble Kent, your friend.

LEAR

A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! 276

I might have saved her. Now she’s gone forever. — 277

Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha! 278

What is ’t thou sayst? — Her voice was ever soft, 279

Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman. 280

I killed the slave that was a-hanging thee. 281

GENTLEMAN

’Tis true, my lords, he did. 282

LEAR

Did I not, fellow?

I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion 283

I would have made him skip. I am old now, 284

And these same crosses spoil me. ⸢To Kent.⸣ Who are you? 285

Mine eyes are not o’ th’ best. I’ll tell you straight. 286

KENT

If Fortune brag of two she loved and hated, 287

One of them we behold. 288

LEAR

This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent? 289

KENT

The same,

Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius? 290

LEAR

He’s a good fellow, I can tell you that. 291

He’ll strike and quickly too. He’s dead and rotten. 292

KENT

No, my good lord, I am the very man — 293

LEAR

I’ll see that straight. 294

KENT

That from your first of difference and decay 295

Have followed your sad steps. 296

LEAR

⸢You⸣ are welcome hither.

KENT

Nor no man else. All’s cheerless, dark, and deadly. 297

Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, 298

And desperately are dead. 299

LEAR

Ay, so I think.

ALBANY

He knows not what he says, and vain is it 300

That we present us to him. 301

EDGAR

Very bootless.

(Enter a Messenger.)

MESSENGER

Edmund is dead, my lord. 302

ALBANY

That’s but a trifle here. — 303

You lords and noble friends, know our intent: 304

What comfort to this great decay may come 305

Shall be applied. For us, we will resign, 306

During the life of this old Majesty, 307

To him our absolute power; you to your rights, 308

With boot and such addition as your Honors 309

Have more than merited. All friends shall taste 310

The wages of their virtue, and all foes 311

The cup of their deservings. O, see, see! 312

LEAR

And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life? 313

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, 314

And thou no breath at all? Thou ’lt come no more, 315

Never, never, never, never, never. — 316

Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir. 317

[Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips, 318

Look there, look there! 319

(He dies.])

EDGAR

He faints.

⸢To Lear.⸣ My lord, my lord!

KENT

Break, heart, I prithee, break! 320

EDGAR

Look up, my lord.

KENT

Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him 321

That would upon the rack of this tough world 322

Stretch him out longer. 323

EDGAR

He is gone indeed.

KENT

The wonder is he hath endured so long. 324

He but usurped his life. 325

ALBANY

Bear them from hence. Our present business 326

Is general woe. 327

⸢To Edgar and Kent.⸣ Friends of my soul, you twain

Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain. 328

KENT

I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; 329

My master calls me. I must not say no. 330

EDGAR

The weight of this sad time we must obey, 331

Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. 332

The oldest hath borne most; we that are young 333

Shall never see so much nor live so long. 334

(They exit with a dead march.)