The Tragedy of King Lear / William Shakespeare: Ed. Mowat, Barbara A.; Werstine, Paul: Digital adaptation for EMOTHE

Source text for this digital edition:
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.

Digital text encoding for EMOTHE:

Tronch Pérez, Jesús

Note on this digital edition

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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

First Servant

ACT 1

Scene 1

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund.

KENT

1I thought the King had more affected the Duke 2of Albany than Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER

3It did always seem so to us, but now in 4the division of the kingdom, it appears not which 5of the dukes he values most, for ⟨equalities⟩ are so 6weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice 7of either’s moiety.

KENT

8Is not this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER

9His breeding, sir, hath been at my 10charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge 11him that now I am brazed to ’t.

KENT

12I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER

13Sir, this young fellow’s mother could, 14whereupon she grew round-wombed and had indeed, 15sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband 16for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

KENT

17I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it 18being so proper.

GLOUCESTER

19But I have a son, sir, by order of law, 20some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in 21my account. Though this knave came something 22saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was 23his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, 24and the whoreson must be acknowledged. — Do you 25know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

EDMUND

26No, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

27My lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter 28as my honorable friend.

EDMUND

29My services to your Lordship.

KENT

30I must love you and sue to know you better.

EDMUND

31Sir, I shall study deserving.

GLOUCESTER

32He hath been out nine years, and away he 33shall 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.

GLOUCESTER

I shall, my lord.

He exits.

LEAR

Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. —

Give me the map there.

⸢He is handed a map.⸣

Know that we have divided

In three our kingdom, and ’tis our fast intent

To shake all cares and business from our age,

Conferring them on younger strengths, [while we

Unburdened crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall

And you, our no less loving son of Albany,

We have this hour a constant will to publish

Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife

May be prevented now.]

The ⟨two great⟩ princes, France and Burgundy,

Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love,

Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn

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

[Since now we will divest us both of rule,

Interest of territory, cares of state — ]

Which of you shall we say doth love us most,

That we our largest bounty may extend

Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,

Our eldest born, speak first.

GONERIL

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

Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty,

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,

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

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

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable.

Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

CORDELIA

⸢aside⸣

What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.

LEAR

⸢pointing to the map⸣

Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,

With shadowy forests [and with champains riched,

With plenteous rivers] and wide-skirted meads,

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

Be this perpetual. — What says our second daughter,

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

REGAN

I am made of that self mettle as my sister

And prize me at her worth. In my true heart

I find she names my very deed of love;

Only she comes too short, that I profess

Myself an enemy to all other joys

Which the most precious square of sense ⟨possesses,⟩

And find I am alone felicitate

In your dear Highness’ love.

CORDELIA

⸢aside⸣

Then poor Cordelia!

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

More ponderous than my tongue.

LEAR

To thee and thine hereditary ever

Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,

No less in space, validity, and pleasure

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

Although our last and least, to whose young love

[The vines of France and milk of Burgundy

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

A third more opulent than your sisters’? Speak.

CORDELIA

Nothing, my lord.

[LEAR

Nothing?

CORDELIA

Nothing.]

LEAR

Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.

CORDELIA

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty

According to my bond, no more nor less.

LEAR

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

Lest you may mar your fortunes.

CORDELIA

Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, loved me.

I return those duties back as are right fit:

Obey you, love you, and most honor you.

100

Why have my sisters husbands if they say

101

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

102

That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry

103

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

104

Sure I shall never marry like my sisters,

105

⟨To love my father all.⟩

LEAR

106

But goes thy heart with this?

CORDELIA

107

Ay, my good lord.

LEAR

108

So young and so untender?

CORDELIA

109

So young, my lord, and true.

LEAR

110

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

111

For by the sacred radiance of the sun,

112

The ⸢mysteries⸣ of Hecate and the night,

113

By all the operation of the orbs

114

From whom we do exist and cease to be,

115

Here I disclaim all my paternal care,

116

Propinquity, and property of blood,

117

And as a stranger to my heart and me

118

Hold thee from this forever. The barbarous Scythian,

119

Or he that makes his generation messes

120

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom

121

Be as well neighbored, pitied, and relieved

122

As thou my sometime daughter.

KENT

Good my liege —

LEAR

123

Peace, Kent.

124

Come not between the dragon and his wrath.

125

I loved her most and thought to set my rest

126

On her kind nursery.

⸢To Cordelia.⸣

Hence and avoid my sight! —

127

So be my grave my peace as here I give

128

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

129

Call Burgundy.

⸢An Attendant exits.⸣

Cornwall and Albany,

130

With my two daughters’ dowers digest the third.

131

Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.

132

I do invest you jointly with my power,

133

Preeminence, and all the large effects

134

That troop with majesty. Ourself by monthly course,

135

With reservation of an hundred knights

136

By you to be sustained, shall our abode

137

Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain

138

The name and all th’ addition to a king.

139

The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,

140

Belovèd sons, be yours, which to confirm,

141

This coronet part between you.

KENT

Royal Lear,

142

Whom I have ever honored as my king,

143

Loved as my father, as my master followed,

144

As my great patron thought on in my prayers —

LEAR

145

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

KENT

146

Let it fall rather, though the fork invade

147

The region of my heart. Be Kent unmannerly

148

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

149

Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak

150

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

151

When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state,

152

And in thy best consideration check

153

This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment,

154

Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,

155

Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds

156

Reverb no hollowness.

LEAR

Kent, on thy life, no more.

KENT

157

My life I never held but as ⟨a⟩ pawn

158

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

159

Thy safety being motive.

LEAR

Out of my sight!

KENT

160

See better, Lear, and let me still remain

161

The true blank of thine eye.

LEAR

162

Now, by Apollo —

KENT

163

Now, by Apollo, king,

164

Thou swear’st thy gods in vain.

LEAR

165

O vassal! Miscreant!

[ALBANY/CORNWALL

166

Dear sir, forbear.]

KENT

167

Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow

168

Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift,

169

Or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat,

170

I’ll tell thee thou dost evil.

LEAR

171

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

172

That thou hast sought to make us break our vows —

173

Which we durst never yet — and with strained pride

174

To come betwixt our sentence and our power,

175

Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,

176

Our potency made good, take thy reward:

177

Five days we do allot thee for provision

178

To shield thee from disasters of the world,

179

And on the sixth to turn thy hated back

180

Upon our kingdom. If on the tenth day following

181

Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions,

182

The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,

183

This shall not be revoked.

KENT

184

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

185

Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

186

⸢To Cordelia.⸣

The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,

187

That justly think’st and hast most rightly said.

188

⸢To Goneril and Regan.⸣

And your large speeches may your deeds approve,

189

That good effects may spring from words of love. —

190

Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu.

191

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

He exits.

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

⟨GLOUCESTER⟩

192

Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

LEAR

193

My lord of Burgundy,

194

We first address toward you, who with this king

195

Hath rivaled for our daughter. What in the least

196

Will you require in present dower with her,

197

Or cease your quest of love?

BURGUNDY

Most royal Majesty,

198

I crave no more than hath your Highness offered,

199

Nor will you tender less.

LEAR

Right noble Burgundy,

200

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

201

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

202

If aught within that little seeming substance,

203

Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced

204

And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,

205

She’s there, and she is yours.

BURGUNDY

I know no answer.

LEAR

206

Will you, with those infirmities she owes,

207

Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,

208

Dowered with our curse and strangered with our oath,

209

Take her or leave her?

BURGUNDY

Pardon me, royal sir,

210

Election makes not up in such conditions.

LEAR

211

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

212

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

213

I would not from your love make such a stray

214

To match you where I hate. Therefore beseech you

215

T’ avert your liking a more worthier way

216

Than on a wretch whom Nature is ashamed

217

Almost t’ acknowledge hers.

FRANCE

This is most strange,

218

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

219

The argument of your praise, balm of your age,

220

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

221

Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle

222

So many folds of favor. Sure her offense

223

Must be of such unnatural degree

224

That monsters it, or your forevouched affection

225

Fall into taint; which to believe of her

226

Must be a faith that reason without miracle

227

Should never plant in me.

CORDELIA

228

⸢to Lear⸣

I yet beseech your Majesty —

229

If for I want that glib and oily art

230

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

231

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

232

It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,

233

No unchaste action or dishonored step

234

That hath deprived me of your grace and favor,

235

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

236

A still-soliciting eye and such a tongue

237

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

238

Hath lost me in your liking.

LEAR

Better thou

239

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

FRANCE

240

Is it but this — a tardiness in nature

241

Which often leaves the history unspoke

242

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

243

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

244

When it is mingled with regards that stands

245

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

246

She is herself a dowry.

BURGUNDY

⸢to Lear⸣

Royal king,

247

Give but that portion which yourself proposed,

248

And here I take Cordelia by the hand,

249

Duchess of Burgundy.

LEAR

250

Nothing. I have sworn. I am firm.

BURGUNDY

251

⸢to Cordelia⸣

I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father

252

That you must lose a husband.

CORDELIA

Peace be with Burgundy.

253

Since that respect and fortunes are his love,

254

I shall not be his wife.

FRANCE

255

Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor;

256

Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised,

257

Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon,

258

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

259

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

260

My love should kindle to enflamed respect. —

261

Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,

262

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

263

Not all the dukes of wat’rish Burgundy

264

Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. —

265

Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind.

266

Thou losest here a better where to find.

LEAR

267

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

268

Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see

269

That face of hers again.

⸢To Cordelia.⸣

Therefore begone

270

Without our grace, our love, our benison. —

271

Come, noble Burgundy.

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

FRANCE

272

Bid farewell to your sisters.

CORDELIA

273

The jewels of our father, with washed eyes

274

Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are,

275

And like a sister am most loath to call

276

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

277

To your professèd bosoms I commit him;

278

But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,

279

I would prefer him to a better place.

280

So farewell to you both.

REGAN

281

Prescribe not us our duty.

GONERIL

Let your study

282

Be to content your lord, who hath received you

283

At Fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted

284

And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

CORDELIA

285

Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides,

286

Who covers faults at last with shame derides.

287

Well may you prosper.

FRANCE

Come, my fair Cordelia.

France and Cordelia exit.

GONERIL

288Sister, it is not little I have to say of what 289most nearly appertains to us both. I think our 290father will hence tonight.

REGAN

291That’s most certain, and with you; next month 292with us.

GONERIL

293You see how full of changes his age is; the 294observation we have made of it hath ⟨not⟩ been 295little. He always loved our sister most, and with 296what poor judgment he hath now cast her off 297appears too grossly.

REGAN

298’Tis the infirmity of his age. Yet he hath ever 299but slenderly known himself.

GONERIL

300The best and soundest of his time hath been 301but rash. Then must we look from his age to 302receive not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed 303condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness 304that infirm and choleric years bring with 305them.

REGAN

306Such unconstant starts are we like to have 307from him as this of Kent’s banishment.

GONERIL

308There is further compliment of leave-taking 309between France and him. Pray you, let us sit 310together. If our father carry authority with such 311disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will 312but offend us.

REGAN

313We shall further think of it.

GONERIL

314We must do something, and i’ th’ heat.

They exit.

Scene 2

Enter ⸢Edmund, the⸣ Bastard.

EDMUND

Thou, Nature, art my goddess. To thy law

My services are bound. Wherefore should I

Stand in the plague of custom, and permit

The curiosity of nations to deprive me

For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines

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

When my dimensions are as well compact,

My mind as generous and my shape as true

As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us

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

Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take

More composition and fierce quality

Than doth within a dull, stale, tired bed

Go to th’ creating a whole tribe of fops

Got ’tween asleep and wake? Well then,

Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.

Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund

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

Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed

And my invention thrive, Edmund the base

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

Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

Enter Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER

Kent banished thus? And France in choler parted?

And the King gone tonight, prescribed his power,

Confined to exhibition? All this done

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

EDMUND

27So please your Lordship, none.

⸢He puts a paper in his pocket.⸣

GLOUCESTER

28Why so earnestly seek you to put up that 29letter?

EDMUND

30I know no news, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

31What paper were you reading?

EDMUND

32Nothing, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

33No? What needed then that terrible dispatch 34of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing 35hath not such need to hide itself. Let’s see. Come, if 36it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

EDMUND

37I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter 38from my brother that I have not all o’erread; and 39for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for 40your o’erlooking.

GLOUCESTER

41Give me the letter, sir.

EDMUND

42I shall offend either to detain or give it. The 43contents, as in part I understand them, are to 44blame.

GLOUCESTER

45Let’s see, let’s see.

⸢Edmund gives him the paper.⸣

EDMUND

46I hope, for my brother’s justification, he 47wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.

GLOUCESTER

48 (reads) This policy and reverence of age 49makes the world bitter to the best of our times, keeps 50our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish 51them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the 52oppression of aged tyranny, who sways not as it hath 53power but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I 54may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked 55him, you should enjoy half his revenue forever and 56live the beloved of your brother. Edgar. 57Hum? Conspiracy? “Sleep till I wake him, you 58should enjoy half his revenue.” My son Edgar! Had 59he a hand to write this? A heart and brain to breed it 60in? — When came you to this? Who brought it?

EDMUND

61It was not brought me, my lord; there’s the 62cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement 63of my closet.

GLOUCESTER

64You know the character to be your 65brother’s?

EDMUND

66If the matter were good, my lord, I durst 67swear it were his; but in respect of that, I would 68fain think it were not.

GLOUCESTER

69It is his.

EDMUND

70It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is 71not in the contents.

GLOUCESTER

72Has he never before sounded you in this 73business?

EDMUND

74Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft 75maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age and 76fathers declined, the father should be as ward to the 77son, and the son manage his revenue.

GLOUCESTER

78O villain, villain! His very opinion in the 79letter. Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish 80villain! Worse than brutish! — Go, sirrah, seek 81him. I’ll apprehend him. — Abominable villain! — 82Where is he?

EDMUND

83I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please 84you to suspend your indignation against my brother 85till you can derive from him better testimony of his 86intent, you should run a certain course; where, if 87you violently proceed against him, mistaking his 88purpose, it would make a great gap in your own 89honor and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. 90I dare pawn down my life for him that he hath 91writ this to feel my affection to your Honor, and to 92no other pretense of danger.

GLOUCESTER

93Think you so?

EDMUND

94If your Honor judge it meet, I will place you 95where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an 96auricular assurance have your satisfaction, and that 97without any further delay than this very evening.

GLOUCESTER

98He cannot be such a monster.

⟨EDMUND

99Nor is not, sure.

GLOUCESTER

100To his father, that so tenderly and entirely 101loves him! Heaven and Earth!⟩ Edmund, seek him 102out; wind me into him, I pray you. Frame the 103business after your own wisdom. I would unstate 104myself to be in a due resolution.

EDMUND

105I will seek him, sir, presently, convey the 106business as I shall find means, and acquaint you 107withal.

GLOUCESTER

108These late eclipses in the sun and moon 109portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of 110nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds 111itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, 112friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies; 113in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and 114the bond cracked ’twixt son and father. [This villain 115of mine comes under the prediction: there’s son 116against father. The King falls from bias of nature: 117there’s father against child. We have seen the best of 118our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and 119all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our 120graves.] — Find out this villain, Edmund. It shall 121lose thee nothing. Do it carefully. — And the noble 122and true-hearted Kent banished! His offense, honesty! 123’Tis strange.

He exits.

EDMUND

124This is the excellent foppery of the world, that 125when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeits of 126our own behavior) we make guilty of our disasters 127the sun, the moon, and stars, as if we were villains 128on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, 129thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; 130drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced 131obedience of planetary influence; and all that we 132are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable 133evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish 134disposition on the charge of a star! My father 135compounded with my mother under the Dragon’s 136tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it 137follows I am rough and lecherous. ⟨Fut,⟩ I should 138have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the 139firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. ⟨Edgar⟩ — Enter Edgar. 140⟨and⟩ pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old 141comedy. My cue is villainous melancholy, with a 142sigh like Tom o’ Bedlam. — O, these eclipses do 143portend these divisions. Fa, sol, la, mi.

EDGAR

144How now, brother Edmund, what serious contemplation 145are you in?

EDMUND

146I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read 147this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

EDGAR

148Do you busy yourself with that?

EDMUND

149I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed 150unhappily, ⟨as of unnaturalness between the 151child and the parent, death, dearth, dissolutions of 152ancient amities, divisions in state, menaces and 153maledictions against king and nobles, needless diffidences, 154banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, 155nuptial breaches, and I know not what.

EDGAR

156How long have you been a sectary 157astronomical?

EDMUND

158Come, come,⟩ when saw you my father last?

EDGAR

159The night gone by.

EDMUND

160Spake you with him?

EDGAR

161Ay, two hours together.

EDMUND

162Parted you in good terms? Found you no 163displeasure in him by word nor countenance?

EDGAR

164None at all.

EDMUND

165Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended 166him, and at my entreaty forbear his presence 167until some little time hath qualified the heat 168of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in 169him that with the mischief of your person it would 170scarcely allay.

EDGAR

171Some villain hath done me wrong.

EDMUND

172That’s my fear. [I pray you have a continent 173forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; 174and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from 175whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. 176Pray you go. There’s my key. If you do stir abroad, 177go armed.

EDGAR

178Armed, brother?]

EDMUND

179Brother, I advise you to the best. I am no 180honest man if there be any good meaning toward 181you. I have told you what I have seen and heard, but 182faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it. Pray 183you, away.

EDGAR

184Shall I hear from you anon?

EDMUND

185I do serve you in this business.

Edgar exits.

186

A credulous father and a brother noble,

187

Whose nature is so far from doing harms

188

That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty

189

My practices ride easy. I see the business.

190

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

191

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

He exits.

Scene 3

Enter Goneril and ⸢Oswald, her⸣ Steward.

GONERIL

1Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding 2of his Fool?

OSWALD

3Ay, madam.

GONERIL

By day and night he wrongs me. Every hour

He flashes into one gross crime or other

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

His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us

On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,

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

If you come slack of former services,

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

OSWALD

He’s coming, madam. I hear him.

GONERIL

Put on what weary negligence you please,

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

If he distaste it, let him to my sister,

Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,

⟨Not to be overruled. Idle old man

That still would manage those authorities

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

Old fools are babes again and must be used

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

Remember what I have said.

OSWALD

Well, madam.

GONERIL

And let his knights have colder looks among you.

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

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

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

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

They exit ⸢in different directions.⸣

Scene 4

Enter Kent ⸢in disguise.⸣

KENT

If but as ⟨well⟩ I other accents borrow

That can my speech diffuse, my good intent

May carry through itself to that full issue

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

If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned,

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

Shall find thee full of labors.

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

LEAR

8Let me not stay a jot for dinner. Go get it ready. ⸢An Attendant exits.⸣ 9How now, what art thou?

KENT

10A man, sir.

LEAR

11What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with 12us?

KENT

13I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve 14him truly that will put me in trust, to love him that 15is honest, to converse with him that is wise and says 16little, to fear judgment, to fight when I cannot 17choose, and to eat no fish.

LEAR

18What art thou?

KENT

19A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the 20King.

LEAR

21If thou be’st as poor for a subject as he’s for a 22king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

KENT

23Service.

LEAR

24Who wouldst thou serve?

KENT

25You.

LEAR

26Dost thou know me, fellow?

KENT

27No, sir, but you have that in your countenance 28which I would fain call master.

LEAR

29What’s that?

KENT

30Authority.

LEAR

31What services canst do?

KENT

32I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a 33curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message 34bluntly. That which ordinary men are fit for I 35am qualified in, and the best of me is diligence.

LEAR

36How old art thou?

KENT

37Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, 38nor so old to dote on her for anything. I have years 39on my back forty-eight.

LEAR

40Follow me. Thou shalt serve me — if I like thee 41no worse after dinner. I will not part from thee 42yet. — Dinner, ho, dinner! — Where’s my knave, my 43Fool? Go you and call my Fool hither. ⸢An Attendant exits.⸣ Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward. 44You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?

OSWALD

45So please you —

He exits.

LEAR

46What says the fellow there? Call the clotpole 47back. ⸢A Knight exits.⸣ 48Where’s my Fool? Ho! I think 49the world’s asleep. ⸢Enter Knight again.⸣ 50How now? Where’s that mongrel?

KNIGHT

51He says, my lord, your ⟨daughter⟩ is not well.

LEAR

52Why came not the slave back to me when I 53called him?

KNIGHT

54Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, 55he would not.

LEAR

56He would not?

KNIGHT

57My lord, I know not what the matter is, but to 58my judgment your Highness is not entertained 59with that ceremonious affection as you were wont. 60There’s a great abatement of kindness appears as 61well in the general dependents as in the Duke 62himself also, and your daughter.

LEAR

63Ha? Sayst thou so?

KNIGHT

64I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be 65mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent when I think 66your Highness wronged.

LEAR

67Thou but remembrest me of mine own conception. 68I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, 69which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous 70curiosity than as a very pretense and purpose of 71unkindness. I will look further into ’t. But where’s 72my Fool? I have not seen him this two days.

KNIGHT

73Since my young lady’s going into France, sir, 74the Fool hath much pined away.

LEAR

75No more of that. I have noted it well. — Go you 76and tell my daughter I would speak with her. ⸢An Attendant exits.⸣ 77Go you call hither my Fool. ⸢Another exits.⸣ Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward. 78O you, sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?

OSWALD

79My lady’s father.

LEAR

80“My lady’s father”? My lord’s knave! You whoreson 81dog, you slave, you cur!

OSWALD

82I am none of these, my lord, I beseech your 83pardon.

LEAR

84Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

⸢Lear strikes him.⸣

OSWALD

85I’ll not be strucken, my lord.

KENT

86 ⸢tripping him⸣ Nor tripped neither, you base 87football player?

LEAR

88I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv’st me, and I’ll 89love thee.

KENT

90 ⸢to Oswald⸣ Come, sir, arise. Away. I’ll teach you 91differences. Away, away. If you will measure your 92lubber’s length again, tarry. But away. Go to. Have 93you wisdom? So.

⸢Oswald exits.⸣

LEAR

94Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There’s 95earnest of thy service.

⸢He gives Kent a purse.⸣

Enter Fool.

FOOL

96Let me hire him too. ⸢To Kent.⸣ Here’s my 97coxcomb.

⸢He offers Kent his cap.⸣

LEAR

98How now, my pretty knave, how dost thou?

FOOL

99 ⸢to Kent⸣ Sirrah, you were best take my 100coxcomb.

LEAR

101Why, my boy?

FOOL

102Why? For taking one’s part that’s out of favor. 103 ⸢To Kent.⸣ Nay, an thou canst not smile as the 104wind sits, thou ’lt catch cold shortly. There, take my 105coxcomb. Why, this fellow has banished two on ’s 106daughters and did the third a blessing against his 107will. If thou follow him, thou must needs wear my 108coxcomb. — How now, nuncle? Would I had two 109coxcombs and two daughters.

LEAR

110Why, my boy?

FOOL

111If I gave them all my living, I’d keep my coxcombs 112myself. There’s mine. Beg another of thy 113daughters.

LEAR

114Take heed, sirrah — the whip.

FOOL

115Truth’s a dog must to kennel; he must be 116whipped out, when the Lady Brach may stand by th’ 117fire and stink.

LEAR

118A pestilent gall to me!

FOOL

119Sirrah, I’ll teach thee a speech.

LEAR

120Do.

FOOL

121Mark it, nuncle:

122

Have more than thou showest.

123

Speak less than thou knowest,

124

Lend less than thou owest,

125

Ride more than thou goest,

126

Learn more than thou trowest,

127

Set less than thou throwest;

128

Leave thy drink and thy whore

129

And keep in-a-door,

130

And thou shalt have more

131

Than two tens to a score.

KENT

132This is nothing, Fool.

FOOL

133Then ’tis like the breath of an unfee’d lawyer. 134You gave me nothing for ’t. — Can you make no use 135of nothing, nuncle?

LEAR

136Why no, boy. Nothing can be made out of 137nothing.

FOOL

138 ⸢to Kent⸣ Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his 139land comes to. He will not believe a Fool.

LEAR

140A bitter Fool!

FOOL

141Dost know the difference, my boy, between a 142bitter fool and a sweet one?

LEAR

143No, lad, teach me.

FOOL

144

⟨That lord that counseled thee

145

To give away thy land,

146

Come place him here by me;

147

Do thou for him stand.

148

The sweet and bitter fool

149

Will presently appear:

150

The one in motley here,

151

The other found out there.

LEAR

152Dost thou call me “fool,” boy?

FOOL

153All thy other titles thou hast given away. That 154thou wast born with.

KENT

155This is not altogether fool, my lord.

FOOL

156No, faith, lords and great men will not let me. If 157I had a monopoly out, they would have part on ’t. 158And ladies too, they will not let me have all the fool 159to myself; they’ll be snatching.⟩ — Nuncle, give me 160an egg, and I’ll give thee two crowns.

LEAR

161What two crowns shall they be?

FOOL

162Why, after I have cut the egg i’ th’ middle and eat 163up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou 164clovest thy ⟨crown⟩ i’ th’ middle and gav’st away 165both parts, thou bor’st thine ass on thy back o’er 166the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown 167when thou gav’st thy golden one away. If I speak 168like myself in this, let him be whipped that first 169finds it so.

⸢Sings.⸣

170

Fools had ne’er less grace in a year,

171

For wise men are grown foppish

172

And know not how their wits to wear,

173

Their manners are so apish.

LEAR

174When were you wont to be so full of songs, 175sirrah?

FOOL

176I have used it, nuncle, e’er since thou mad’st thy 177daughters thy mothers. For when thou gav’st them 178the rod and put’st down thine own breeches,

⸢Sings.⸣

179

Then they for sudden joy did weep,

180

And I for sorrow sung,

181

That such a king should play bo-peep

182

And go the ⟨fools⟩ among.

183Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach 184thy Fool to lie. I would fain learn to lie.

LEAR

185An you lie, sirrah, we’ll have you whipped.

FOOL

186I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. 187They’ll have me whipped for speaking true, thou ’lt 188have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I am 189whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any 190kind o’ thing than a Fool. And yet I would not be 191thee, nuncle. Thou hast pared thy wit o’ both sides 192and left nothing i’ th’ middle. Here comes one o’ the 193parings.

Enter Goneril.

LEAR

194

How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on?

195

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

FOOL

196Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no 197need to care for her frowning. Now thou art an O 198without a figure. I am better than thou art now. I 199am a Fool. Thou art nothing. ⸢To Goneril.⸣ Yes, 200forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So your face bids 201me, though you say nothing.

202

Mum, mum,

203

He that keeps nor crust ⟨nor⟩ crumb,

204

Weary of all, shall want some.

⸢He points at Lear.⸣

205That’s a shelled peascod.

GONERIL

206

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

207

But other of your insolent retinue

208

Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth

209

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

210

I had thought by making this well known unto you

211

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

212

By what yourself too late have spoke and done,

213

That you protect this course and put it on

214

By your allowance; which if you should, the fault

215

Would not ’scape censure, nor the redresses sleep

216

Which in the tender of a wholesome weal

217

Might in their working do you that offense,

218

Which else were shame, that then necessity

219

Will call discreet proceeding.

FOOL

220For you know, nuncle,

221

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,

222

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

223So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.

LEAR

224

Are you our daughter?

GONERIL

225

I would you would make use of your good wisdom,

226

Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away

227

These dispositions which of late transport you

228

From what you rightly are.

FOOL

229May not an ass know when the cart draws the 230horse? Whoop, Jug, I love thee!

LEAR

231

Does any here know me? This is not Lear.

232

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

233

Either his notion weakens, his discernings

234

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

235

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

FOOL

236Lear’s shadow.

⟨LEAR

237

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

238

Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded

239

I had daughters.

FOOL

240Which they will make an obedient father.⟩

LEAR

241Your name, fair gentlewoman?

GONERIL

242

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

243

Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you

244

To understand my purposes aright.

245

As you are old and reverend, should be wise.

246

Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires,

247

Men so disordered, so debauched and bold,

248

That this our court, infected with their manners,

249

Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust

250

Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel

251

Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak

252

For instant remedy. Be then desired,

253

By her that else will take the thing she begs,

254

A little to disquantity your train,

255

And the remainders that shall still depend

256

To be such men as may besort your age,

257

Which know themselves and you.

LEAR

Darkness and devils! —

258

Saddle my horses. Call my train together.

⸢Some exit.⸣

259

Degenerate bastard, I’ll not trouble thee.

260

Yet have I left a daughter.

GONERIL

261

You strike my people, and your disordered rabble

262

Make servants of their betters.

Enter Albany.

LEAR

263

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

264

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

⸢Some exit.⸣

265

Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,

266

More hideous when thou show’st thee in a child

267

Than the sea monster!

[ALBANY

Pray, sir, be patient.]

LEAR

268

⸢to Goneril⸣

Detested kite, thou liest.

269

My train are men of choice and rarest parts,

270

That all particulars of duty know

271

And in the most exact regard support

272

The worships of their name. O most small fault,

273

How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show,

274

Which, like an engine, wrenched my frame of nature

275

From the fixed place, drew from my heart all love

276

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

⸢He strikes his head.⸣

277

Beat at this gate that let thy folly in

278

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

⸢Some exit.⸣

ALBANY

279

My lord, I am guiltless as I am ignorant

280

[Of what hath moved you.]

LEAR

It may be so, my lord. —

281

Hear, Nature, hear, dear goddess, hear!

282

Suspend thy purpose if thou didst intend

283

To make this creature fruitful.

284

Into her womb convey sterility.

285

Dry up in her the organs of increase,

286

And from her derogate body never spring

287

A babe to honor her. If she must teem,

288

Create her child of spleen, that it may live

289

And be a thwart disnatured torment to her.

290

Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,

291

With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks,

292

Turn all her mother’s pains and benefits

293

To laughter and contempt, that she may feel

294

How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is

295

To have a thankless child. — Away, away!

⸢Lear and the rest of his train⸣ exit.

ALBANY

296

Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?

GONERIL

297

Never afflict yourself to know more of it,

298

But let his disposition have that scope

299

As dotage gives it.

Enter Lear ⸢and the Fool.⸣

LEAR

300

What, fifty of my followers at a clap?

301

Within a fortnight?

ALBANY

What’s the matter, sir?

LEAR

302

I’ll tell thee.

⸢To Goneril.⸣

Life and death! I am ashamed

303

That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus,

304

That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,

305

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

306

Th’ untented woundings of a father’s curse

307

Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,

308

Beweep this cause again, I’ll pluck you out

309

And cast you, with the waters that you loose,

310

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

311

Ha! Let it be so. I have another daughter

312

Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable.

313

When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails

314

She’ll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find

315

That I’ll resume the shape which thou dost think

316

I have cast off forever.

He exits.

GONERIL

Do you mark that?

ALBANY

317

I cannot be so partial, Goneril,

318

To the great love I bear you —

GONERIL

319Pray you, content. — What, Oswald, ho! — 320You, sir, more knave than Fool, after your master.

FOOL

321Nuncle Lear, Nuncle Lear, tarry. Take the Fool 322with thee.

323

A fox, when one has caught her,

324

And such a daughter,

325

Should sure to the slaughter,

326

If my cap would buy a halter.

327

So the Fool follows after.

He exits.

[GONERIL

328

This man hath had good counsel. A hundred knights!

329

’Tis politic and safe to let him keep

330

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

331

Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,

332

He may enguard his dotage with their powers

333

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

ALBANY

334Well, you may fear too far.

GONERIL

335Safer than trust too far.

336

Let me still take away the harms I fear,

337

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

338

What he hath uttered I have writ my sister.

339

If she sustain him and his hundred knights

340

When I have showed th’ unfitness —

Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.

How now, Oswald?]

341

What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

OSWALD

342Ay, madam.

GONERIL

343

Take you some company and away to horse.

344

Inform her full of my particular fear,

345

And thereto add such reasons of your own

346

As may compact it more. Get you gone,

347

And hasten your return.

⸢Oswald exits.⸣

No, no, my lord,

348

This milky gentleness and course of yours,

349

Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,

350

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

351

Than praised for harmful mildness.

ALBANY

352

How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.

353

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

GONERIL

354Nay, then —

ALBANY

355Well, well, th’ event.

They exit.

Scene 5

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

LEAR

1 ⸢to Kent⸣ Go you before to Gloucester with these 2letters. Acquaint my daughter no further with anything 3you know than comes from her demand out of 4the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be 5there afore you.

KENT

6I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered 7your letter.

He exits.

FOOL

8If a man’s brains were in ’s heels, were ’t not in 9danger of kibes?

LEAR

10Ay, boy.

FOOL

11Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall not go 12slipshod.

LEAR

13Ha, ha, ha!

FOOL

14Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly, 15for, though she’s as like this as a crab’s like an 16apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

LEAR

17What canst tell, boy?

FOOL

18She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. 19Thou canst tell why one’s nose stands i’ th’ middle 20on ’s face?

LEAR

21No.

FOOL

22Why, to keep one’s eyes of either side ’s nose, 23that what a man cannot smell out he may spy into.

LEAR

24I did her wrong.

FOOL

25Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?

LEAR

26No.

FOOL

27Nor I neither. But I can tell why a snail has a 28house.

LEAR

29Why?

FOOL

30Why, to put ’s head in, not to give it away to his 31daughters and leave his horns without a case.

LEAR

32I will forget my nature. So kind a father! — Be 33my horses ready?

⸢Gentleman exits.⸣

FOOL

34Thy asses are gone about ’em. The reason why 35the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty 36reason.

LEAR

37Because they are not eight.

FOOL

38Yes, indeed. Thou wouldst make a good Fool.

LEAR

39To take ’t again perforce! Monster ingratitude!

FOOL

40If thou wert my Fool, nuncle, I’d have thee 41beaten for being old before thy time.

LEAR

42How’s that?

FOOL

43Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst 44been wise.

LEAR

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

Keep me in temper. I would not be mad!

⸢Enter Gentleman.⸣

How now, are the horses ready?

GENTLEMAN

48Ready, my lord.

LEAR

49Come, boy.

FOOL

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

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

They exit.

ACT 2

Scene 1

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

EDMUND

1Save thee, Curan.

CURAN

2And ⟨you,⟩ sir. I have been with your father and 3given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and 4Regan his duchess will be here with him this night.

EDMUND

5How comes that?

CURAN

6Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news 7abroad? — I mean the whispered ones, for they are 8yet but ear-kissing arguments.

EDMUND

9Not I. Pray you, what are they?

CURAN

10Have you heard of no likely wars toward ’twixt 11the dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

EDMUND

12Not a word.

CURAN

13You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir.

He exits.

EDMUND

The Duke be here tonight? The better, best.

This weaves itself perforce into my business.

My father hath set guard to take my brother,

And I have one thing of a queasy question

Which I must act. Briefness and fortune work! —

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

Enter Edgar.

My father watches. O sir, fly this place!

Intelligence is given where you are hid.

You have now the good advantage of the night.

Have you not spoken ’gainst the Duke of Cornwall?

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

And Regan with him. Have you nothing said

Upon his party ’gainst the Duke of Albany?

Advise yourself.

EDGAR

I am sure on ’t, not a word.

EDMUND

I hear my father coming. Pardon me.

In cunning I must draw my sword upon you.

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

⸢They draw.⸣

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

⸢Aside to Edgar.⸣

Fly, brother. — Torches, torches! —

⸢Aside to Edgar.⸣

So, farewell.

Edgar exits.

Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion

Of my more fierce endeavor. I have seen drunkards

Do more than this in sport.

⸢He wounds his arm.⸣

Father, father!

Stop, stop! No help?

Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.

GLOUCESTER

Now, Edmund, where’s the villain?

EDMUND

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

Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon

To stand auspicious mistress.

GLOUCESTER

But where is he?

EDMUND

Look, sir, I bleed.

GLOUCESTER

Where is the villain, Edmund?

EDMUND

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

GLOUCESTER

Pursue him, ho! Go after.

⸢Servants exit.⸣

By no means what?

EDMUND

Persuade me to the murder of your Lordship,

But that I told him the revenging gods

’Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend,

Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond

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

Seeing how loathly opposite I stood

To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion

With his preparèd sword he charges home

My unprovided body, ⟨lanced⟩ mine arm;

And when he saw my best alarumed spirits,

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

Or whether ghasted by the noise I made,

Full suddenly he fled.

GLOUCESTER

Let him fly far!

Not in this land shall he remain uncaught,

And found — dispatch. The noble duke my master,

My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight.

By his authority I will proclaim it

That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,

Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;

He that conceals him, death.

EDMUND

When I dissuaded him from his intent

And found him pight to do it, with curst speech

I threatened to discover him. He replied

“Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think

If I would stand against thee, would the reposal

Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee

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

As this I would, though thou didst produce

My very character — I’d turn it all

To thy suggestion, plot, and damnèd practice.

And thou must make a dullard of the world

If they not thought the profits of my death

Were very pregnant and potential ⟨spurs⟩

To make thee seek it.”

GLOUCESTER

O strange and fastened villain!

Would he deny his letter, said he?

⟨I never got him.⟩

Tucket within.

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

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

The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture

I will send far and near, that all the kingdom

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

Loyal and natural boy, I’ll work the means

To make thee capable.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.

CORNWALL

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

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

REGAN

If it be true, all vengeance comes too short

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

GLOUCESTER

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

REGAN

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

He whom my father named, your Edgar?

GLOUCESTER

O lady, lady, shame would have it hid!

REGAN

Was he not companion with the riotous knights

That tended upon my father?

GLOUCESTER

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

EDMUND

Yes, madam, he was of that consort.

REGAN

No marvel, then, though he were ill affected.

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

100

To have th’ expense and waste of his revenues.

101

I have this present evening from my sister

102

Been well informed of them, and with such cautions

103

That if they come to sojourn at my house

104

I’ll not be there.

CORNWALL

Nor I, assure thee, Regan. —

105

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father

106

A childlike office.

EDMUND

It was my duty, sir.

GLOUCESTER

107

He did bewray his practice, and received

108

This hurt you see striving to apprehend him.

CORNWALL

109

Is he pursued?

GLOUCESTER

110

Ay, my good lord.

CORNWALL

111

If he be taken, he shall never more

112

Be feared of doing harm. Make your own purpose,

113

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

114

Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant

115

So much commend itself, you shall be ours.

116

Natures of such deep trust we shall much need.

117

You we first seize on.

EDMUND

I shall serve you, sir,

118

Truly, however else.

GLOUCESTER

119

For him I thank your Grace.

CORNWALL

120

You know not why we came to visit you —

REGAN

121

Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night.

122

Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some ⟨poise,⟩

123

Wherein we must have use of your advice.

124

Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,

125

Of differences, which I best ⟨thought⟩ it fit

126

To answer from our home. The several messengers

127

From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend,

128

Lay comforts to your bosom and bestow

129

Your needful counsel to our businesses,

130

Which craves the instant use.

GLOUCESTER

I serve you, madam.

131

Your Graces are right welcome.

Flourish. They exit.

Scene 2

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

OSWALD

1Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this 2house?

KENT

3Ay.

OSWALD

4Where may we set our horses?

KENT

5I’ th’ mire.

OSWALD

6Prithee, if thou lov’st me, tell me.

KENT

7I love thee not.

OSWALD

8Why then, I care not for thee.

KENT

9If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make 10thee care for me.

OSWALD

11Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

KENT

12Fellow, I know thee.

OSWALD

13What dost thou know me for?

KENT

14A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a 15base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, 16filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, 17action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, 18finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting 19slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good 20service, and art nothing but the composition of a 21knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir 22of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into 23⟨clamorous⟩ whining if thou deny’st the least syllable 24of thy addition.

OSWALD

25Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou thus 26to rail on one that is neither known of thee nor 27knows thee!

KENT

28What a brazen-faced varlet art thou to deny thou 29knowest me! Is it two days ⟨ago⟩ since I tripped up 30thy heels and beat thee before the King? ⸢He draws his sword.⸣ 31Draw, you rogue, for though it be night, 32yet the moon shines. I’ll make a sop o’ th’ moonshine 33of you, you whoreson, cullionly barbermonger. 34Draw!

OSWALD

35Away! I have nothing to do with thee.

KENT

36Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against 37the King and take Vanity the puppet’s part against 38the royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or I’ll so 39carbonado your shanks! Draw, you rascal! Come 40your ways.

OSWALD

41Help, ho! Murder! Help!

KENT

42Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat 43slave! Strike!

⸢He beats Oswald.⸣

OSWALD

44Help, ho! Murder, murder!

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

EDMUND

45How now, what’s the matter? Part!

KENT

46With you, goodman boy, if you please. Come, I’ll 47flesh you. Come on, young master.

GLOUCESTER

Weapons? Arms? What’s the matter here?

CORNWALL

49Keep peace, upon your lives! He dies that 50strikes again. What is the matter?

REGAN

The messengers from our sister and the King.

CORNWALL

52What is your difference? Speak.

OSWALD

53I am scarce in breath, my lord.

KENT

54No marvel, you have so bestirred your valor. 55You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a 56tailor made thee.

CORNWALL

57Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a 58man?

KENT

59A tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not 60have made him so ill, though they had been but two 61years o’ th’ trade.

CORNWALL

62Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

OSWALD

63This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have 64spared at suit of his gray beard —

KENT

65Thou whoreson zed, thou unnecessary letter! 66— My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread 67this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the wall 68of a jakes with him. — Spare my gray beard, you 69wagtail?

CORNWALL

70Peace, sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

KENT

Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege.

CORNWALL

Why art thou angry?

KENT

That such a slave as this should wear a sword,

Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain

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

That in the natures of their lords rebel —

Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods —

⟨Renege,⟩ affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks

With every ⟨gale⟩ and vary of their masters,

Knowing naught, like dogs, but following. —

A plague upon your epileptic visage!

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

Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,

I’d drive you cackling home to Camelot.

CORNWALL

What, art thou mad, old fellow?

GLOUCESTER

How fell you out? Say that.

KENT

No contraries hold more antipathy

Than I and such a knave.

CORNWALL

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

KENT

His countenance likes me not.

CORNWALL

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

KENT

Sir, ’tis my occupation to be plain:

I have seen better faces in my time

Than stands on any shoulder that I see

Before me at this instant.

CORNWALL

This is some fellow

Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect

A saucy roughness and constrains the garb

100

Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he.

101

An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth!

102

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

103

These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness

104

Harbor more craft and more corrupter ends

105

Than twenty silly-ducking observants

106

That stretch their duties nicely.

KENT

107

Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,

108

Under th’ allowance of your great aspect,

109

Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire

110

On ⸢flick’ring⸣ Phoebus’ front —

CORNWALL

What mean’st by this?

KENT

111To go out of my dialect, which you discommend 112so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that 113beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave, 114which for my part I will not be, though I should 115win your displeasure to entreat me to ’t.

CORNWALL

116

⸢to Oswald⸣

What was th’ offense you gave him?

OSWALD

117

I never gave him any.

118

It pleased the King his master very late

119

To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;

120

When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure,

121

Tripped me behind; being down, insulted, railed,

122

And put upon him such a deal of man

123

That worthied him, got praises of the King

124

For him attempting who was self-subdued;

125

And in the fleshment of this ⟨dread⟩ exploit,

126

Drew on me here again.

KENT

127

None of these rogues and cowards

128

But Ajax is their fool.

CORNWALL

Fetch forth the stocks. —

129

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart,

130

We’ll teach you.

KENT

Sir, I am too old to learn.

131

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

132

On whose employment I was sent to you.

133

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

134

Against the grace and person of my master,

135

Stocking his messenger.

CORNWALL

136

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

137

There shall he sit till noon.

REGAN

138

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

KENT

139

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

140

You should not use me so.

REGAN

141

Sir, being his knave, I will.

CORNWALL

142

This is a fellow of the selfsame color

143

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

Stocks brought out.

GLOUCESTER

144

Let me beseech your Grace not to do so.

145

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

146

Will check him for ’t. Your purposed low correction

147

Is such as basest and ⸢contemned’st⸣ wretches

148

For pilf’rings and most common trespasses

149

Are punished with.⟩ The King must take it ill

150

That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,

151

Should have him thus restrained.

CORNWALL

I’ll answer that.

REGAN

152

My sister may receive it much more worse

153

To have her gentleman abused, assaulted

154

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

⸢Kent is put in the stocks.⸣

CORNWALL

155

Come, my ⟨good⟩ lord, away.

⸢All but Gloucester and Kent⸣ exit.

GLOUCESTER

156

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

157

Whose disposition all the world well knows

158

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

KENT

159

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

160

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

161

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

162

Give you good morrow.

GLOUCESTER

163

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

He exits.

KENT

164

Good king, that must approve the common saw,

165

Thou out of heaven’s benediction com’st

166

To the warm sun.

⸢He takes out a paper.⸣

167

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,

168

That by thy comfortable beams I may

169

Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles

170

But misery. I know ’tis from Cordelia,

171

Who hath most fortunately been informed

172

Of my obscurèd course, and shall find time

173

From this enormous state, seeking to give

174

Losses their remedies. All weary and o’erwatched,

175

Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold

176

This shameful lodging.

177

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

⟨Sleeps.⟩

Scene 3

Enter Edgar.

EDGAR

I heard myself proclaimed,

And by the happy hollow of a tree

Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place

That guard and most unusual vigilance

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

I will preserve myself, and am bethought

To take the basest and most poorest shape

That ever penury in contempt of man

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

Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots,

And with presented nakedness outface

The winds and persecutions of the sky.

The country gives me proof and precedent

Of Bedlam beggars who with roaring voices

Strike in their numbed and mortifièd arms

Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary,

And, with this horrible object, from low farms,

Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills,

Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,

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

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

He exits.

Scene 4

Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.

LEAR

’Tis strange that they should so depart from home

And not send back my ⟨messenger.⟩

GENTLEMAN

As I learned,

The night before there was no purpose in them

Of this remove.

KENT

⸢waking⸣

Hail to thee, noble master.

LEAR

Ha?

Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime?

[KENT

No, my lord.]

FOOL

7Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied 8by the heads, dogs and bears by th’ neck, monkeys 9by th’ loins, and men by th’ legs. When a ⟨man’s⟩ 10overlusty at legs, then he wears wooden 11netherstocks.

LEAR

What’s he that hath so much thy place mistook

To set thee here?

KENT

It is both he and she,

Your son and daughter.

LEAR

No.

KENT

Yes.

LEAR

No, I say.

KENT

I say yea.

LEAR

By Jupiter, I swear no.

[KENT

By Juno, I swear ay.

LEAR]

They durst not do ’t.

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

To do upon respect such violent outrage.

Resolve me with all modest haste which way

Thou might’st deserve or they impose this usage,

Coming from us.

KENT

My lord, when at their home

I did commend your Highness’ letters to them,

Ere I was risen from the place that showed

My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,

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

From Goneril his mistress salutations;

Delivered letters, spite of intermission,

Which presently they read; on ⟨whose⟩ contents

They summoned up their meiny, straight took horse,

Commanded me to follow and attend

The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks;

And meeting here the other messenger,

Whose welcome, I perceived, had poisoned mine,

Being the very fellow which of late

Displayed so saucily against your Highness,

Having more man than wit about me, drew.

He raised the house with loud and coward cries.

Your son and daughter found this trespass worth

The shame which here it suffers.

[FOOL

44Winter’s not gone yet if the wild geese fly that 45way.

Fathers that wear rags

Do make their children blind,

But fathers that bear bags

Shall see their children kind.

Fortune, that arrant whore,

Ne’er turns the key to th’ poor.

52But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolors for 53thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.]

LEAR

O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!

⸢Hysterica⸣ passio, down, thou climbing sorrow!

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

KENT

With the Earl, sir, here within.

LEAR

⸢to Fool and Gentleman⸣

Follow me not. Stay here.

He exits.

GENTLEMAN

Made you no more offense but what you speak of?

KENT

None.

How chance the King comes with so small a number?

FOOL

62An thou hadst been set i’ th’ stocks for that 63question, thou ’dst well deserved it.

KENT

64Why, Fool?

FOOL

65We’ll set thee to school to an ant to teach thee 66there’s no laboring i’ th’ winter. All that follow 67their noses are led by their eyes but blind men, and 68there’s not a nose among twenty but can smell him 69that’s stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel 70runs down a hill lest it break thy neck with following; 71but the great one that goes upward, let him 72draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better 73counsel, give me mine again. I would have none but 74knaves follow it, since a Fool gives it.

That sir which serves and seeks for gain,

And follows but for form,

Will pack when it begins to rain

And leave thee in the storm.

But I will tarry; the Fool will stay,

And let the wise man fly.

The knave turns fool that runs away;

The Fool no knave, perdie.

KENT

83Where learned you this, Fool?

FOOL

84Not i’ th’ stocks, fool.

Enter Lear and Gloucester.

LEAR

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

They have traveled all the night? Mere fetches,

The images of revolt and flying off.

Fetch me a better answer.

GLOUCESTER

My dear lord,

You know the fiery quality of the Duke,

How unremovable and fixed he is

In his own course.

LEAR

Vengeance, plague, death, confusion!

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

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

[GLOUCESTER

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

LEAR

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

GLOUCESTER

Ay, my good lord.

LEAR

The King would speak with Cornwall. The dear father

Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends service.

100

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

101

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

102

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

103

Infirmity doth still neglect all office

104

Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves

105

When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind

106

To suffer with the body. I’ll forbear,

107

And am fallen out with my more headier will,

108

To take the indisposed and sickly fit

109

For the sound man.

⸢Noticing Kent again.⸣

Death on my state! Wherefore

110

Should he sit here? This act persuades me

111

That this remotion of the Duke and her

112

Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.

113

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

114

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

115

Or at their chamber door I’ll beat the drum

116

Till it cry sleep to death.

GLOUCESTER

117

I would have all well betwixt you.

He exits.

LEAR

118

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

FOOL

119Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels 120when she put ’em i’ th’ paste alive. She knapped 121’em o’ th’ coxcombs with a stick and cried “Down, 122wantons, down!” ’Twas her brother that in pure 123kindness to his horse buttered his hay.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.

LEAR

124Good morrow to you both.

CORNWALL

125Hail to your Grace.

Kent here set at liberty.

REGAN

126I am glad to see your Highness.

LEAR

127

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

128

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

129

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

130

Sepulch’ring an adult’ress.

⸢To Kent.⸣

O, are you free?

131

Some other time for that. — Belovèd Regan,

132

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

133

Sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here.

134

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

135

With how depraved a quality — O Regan!

REGAN

136

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

137

You less know how to value her desert

138

Than she to scant her duty.

[LEAR

Say? How is that?

REGAN

139

I cannot think my sister in the least

140

Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance

141

She have restrained the riots of your followers,

142

’Tis on such ground and to such wholesome end

143

As clears her from all blame.]

LEAR

144My curses on her.

REGAN

145O sir, you are old.

146

Nature in you stands on the very verge

147

Of his confine. You should be ruled and led

148

By some discretion that discerns your state

149

Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you

150

That to our sister you do make return.

151

Say you have wronged her.

LEAR

Ask her forgiveness?

152

Do you but mark how this becomes the house:

⸢He kneels.⸣

153

“Dear daughter, I confess that I am old.

154

Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg

155

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

REGAN

156

Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks.

157

Return you to my sister.

LEAR

⸢rising⸣

Never, Regan.

158

She hath abated me of half my train,

159

Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue

160

Most serpentlike upon the very heart.

161

All the stored vengeances of heaven fall

162

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,

163

You taking airs, with lameness!

CORNWALL

Fie, sir, fie!

LEAR

164

You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames

165

Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,

166

You fen-sucked fogs drawn by the powerful sun

167

To fall and blister!

REGAN

168

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

169

When the rash mood is on.

LEAR

170

No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse.

171

Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give

172

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

173

Do comfort and not burn. ’Tis not in thee

174

To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,

175

To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,

176

And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt

177

Against my coming in. Thou better know’st

178

The offices of nature, bond of childhood,

179

Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude.

180

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

181

Wherein I thee endowed.

REGAN

Good sir, to th’ purpose.

Tucket within.

LEAR

182

Who put my man i’ th’ stocks?

CORNWALL

What trumpet’s that?

REGAN

183

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

184

That she would soon be here.

Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.

Is your lady come?

LEAR

185

This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride

186

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

187

Out, varlet, from my sight!

CORNWALL

What means your Grace?

LEAR

188

Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope

189

Thou didst not know on ’t.

Enter Goneril.

Who comes here? O heavens,

190

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway

191

Allow obedience, if you yourselves are old,

192

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

193

⸢To Goneril.⸣

Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?

⸢Regan takes Goneril’s hand.⸣

194

O Regan, will you take her by the hand?

GONERIL

195

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

196

All’s not offense that indiscretion finds

197

And dotage terms so.

LEAR

O sides, you are too tough!

198

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

CORNWALL

199

I set him there, sir, but his own disorders

200

Deserved much less advancement.

LEAR

You? Did you?

REGAN

201

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

202

If till the expiration of your month

203

You will return and sojourn with my sister,

204

Dismissing half your train, come then to me.

205

I am now from home and out of that provision

206

Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

LEAR

207

Return to her? And fifty men dismissed?

208

No! Rather I abjure all roofs, and choose

209

To wage against the enmity o’ th’ air,

210

To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,

211

Necessity’s sharp pinch. Return with her?

212

Why the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took

213

Our youngest born — I could as well be brought

214

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

215

To keep base life afoot. Return with her?

216

Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter

217

To this detested groom.

⸢He indicates Oswald.⸣

GONERIL

At your choice, sir.

LEAR

218

I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad.

219

I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell.

220

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

221

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

222

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

223

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

224

A plague-sore or embossèd carbuncle

225

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

226

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

227

I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,

228

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.

229

Mend when thou canst. Be better at thy leisure.

230

I can be patient. I can stay with Regan,

231

I and my hundred knights.

REGAN

232Not altogether so.

233

I looked not for you yet, nor am provided

234

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

235

For those that mingle reason with your passion

236

Must be content to think you old, and so —

237

But she knows what she does.

LEAR

Is this well spoken?

REGAN

238

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

239

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

240

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

241

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

242

Should many people under two commands

243

Hold amity? ’Tis hard, almost impossible.

GONERIL

244

Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance

245

From those that she calls servants, or from mine?

REGAN

246

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

247

We could control them. If you will come to me

248

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

249

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

250

Will I give place or notice.

LEAR

251

I gave you all —

REGAN

252

And in good time you gave it.

LEAR

253

Made you my guardians, my depositaries,

254

But kept a reservation to be followed

255

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

256

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

REGAN

257

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

LEAR

258

Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favored

259

When others are more wicked. Not being the worst

260

Stands in some rank of praise.

⸢To Goneril.⸣

I’ll go with thee.

261

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,

262

And thou art twice her love.

GONERIL

Hear me, my lord.

263

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

264

To follow in a house where twice so many

265

Have a command to tend you?

REGAN

What need one?

LEAR

266

O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars

267

Are in the poorest thing superfluous.

268

Allow not nature more than nature needs,

269

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

270

If only to go warm were gorgeous,

271

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

272

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

273

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

274

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

275

As full of grief as age, wretched in both.

276

If it be you that stirs these daughters’ hearts

277

Against their father, fool me not so much

278

To bear it tamely. Touch me with noble anger,

279

And let not women’s weapons, water drops,

280

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

281

I will have such revenges on you both

282

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

283

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

284

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

285

No, I’ll not weep.

286

I have full cause of weeping, but this heart

Storm and tempest.

287

Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws

288

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

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

CORNWALL

289

Let us withdraw. ’Twill be a storm.

REGAN

290

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

291

Cannot be well bestowed.

GONERIL

292

’Tis his own blame hath put himself from rest,

293

And must needs taste his folly.

REGAN

294

For his particular, I’ll receive him gladly,

295

But not one follower.

GONERIL

296

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

CORNWALL

297

Followed the old man forth.

Enter Gloucester.

He is returned.

GLOUCESTER

298

The King is in high rage.

[CORNWALL

299

Whither is he going?

GLOUCESTER

300

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

CORNWALL

301

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

GONERIL

302

⸢to Gloucester⸣

My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.

GLOUCESTER

303

Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds

304

Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about

305

There’s scarce a bush.

REGAN

O sir, to willful men

306

The injuries that they themselves procure

307

Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors.

308

He is attended with a desperate train,

309

And what they may incense him to, being apt

310

To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.

CORNWALL

311

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

312

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

They exit.

ACT 3

Scene 1

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

KENT

Who’s there, besides foul weather?

GENTLEMAN

One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

KENT

I know you. Where’s the King?

GENTLEMAN

Contending with the fretful elements;

Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea

Or swell the curlèd waters ’bove the main,

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

Which the impetuous blasts with eyeless rage

Catch in their fury and make nothing of;

Strives in his little world of man to outscorn

The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain.

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

The lion and the belly-pinchèd wolf

Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs

And bids what will take all.⟩

KENT

But who is with him?

GENTLEMAN

None but the Fool, who labors to outjest

His heart-struck injuries.

KENT

Sir, I do know you

And dare upon the warrant of my note

Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,

Although as yet the face of it is covered

With mutual cunning, ’twixt Albany and Cornwall,

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

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

Which are to France the spies and speculations

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

Into this scattered kingdom, who already,

Wise in our negligence, have secret feet

In some of our best ports and are at point

To show their open banner. Now to you:

If on my credit you dare build so far

To make your speed to Dover, you shall find

Some that will thank you, making just report

Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow

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

Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes,

Or the hard rein which both of them hath borne

Against the old kind king, or something deeper,

Whereof perchance these are but furnishings.]

⟨I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,

And from some knowledge and assurance offer

This office to you.⟩

GENTLEMAN

I will talk further with you.

KENT

No, do not.

For confirmation that I am much more

Than my outwall, open this purse and take

What it contains.

⸢Kent hands him a purse and a ring.⸣

If you shall see Cordelia

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

And she will tell you who that fellow is

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

I will go seek the King.

GENTLEMAN

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

KENT

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

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

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

Holla the other.

They exit ⸢separately.⸣

Scene 2

Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool.

LEAR

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

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout

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

You sulph’rous and thought-executing fires,

Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,

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

Strike flat the thick rotundity o’ th’ world.

Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once

That makes ingrateful man.

FOOL

10O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is 11better than this rainwater out o’ door. Good nuncle, 12in. Ask thy daughters’ blessing. Here’s a night 13pities neither wise men nor fools.

LEAR

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

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

I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.

I never gave you kingdom, called you children;

You owe me no subscription. Then let fall

Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave,

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

But yet I call you servile ministers,

That will with two pernicious daughters join

Your high-engendered battles ’gainst a head

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

FOOL

25He that has a house to put ’s head in has a good 26headpiece.

The codpiece that will house

Before the head has any,

The head and he shall louse;

So beggars marry many.

The man that makes his toe

What he his heart should make,

Shall of a corn cry woe,

And turn his sleep to wake.

35For there was never yet fair woman but she made 36mouths in a glass.

LEAR

No, I will be the pattern of all patience.

I will say nothing.

Enter Kent ⸢in disguise.⸣

KENT

Who’s there?

FOOL

40Marry, here’s grace and a codpiece; that’s a 41wise man and a fool.

KENT

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

Love not such nights as these. The wrathful skies

Gallow the very wanderers of the dark

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

Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,

Such groans of roaring wind and rain I never

Remember to have heard. Man’s nature cannot carry

Th’ affliction nor the fear.

LEAR

Let the great gods

That keep this dreadful pudder o’er our heads

Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,

That hast within thee undivulgèd crimes

Unwhipped of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand,

Thou perjured, and thou simular of virtue

That art incestuous. Caitiff, to pieces shake,

That under covert and convenient seeming

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

Rive your concealing continents and cry

These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man

More sinned against than sinning.

KENT

Alack, bareheaded?

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel.

Some friendship will it lend you ’gainst the tempest.

Repose you there while I to this hard house —

More harder than the stones whereof ’tis raised,

Which even but now, demanding after you,

Denied me to come in — return and force

Their scanted courtesy.

LEAR

My wits begin to turn. —

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

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

The art of our necessities is strange

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

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

That’s sorry yet for thee.

FOOL

⸢sings⸣

He that has and a little tiny wit,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

Must make content with his fortunes fit,

Though the rain it raineth every day.

LEAR

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

⸢Lear and Kent⸣ exit.

[FOOL

79This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. I’ll 80speak a prophecy ere I go:

When priests are more in word than matter,

When brewers mar their malt with water,

When nobles are their tailors’ tutors,

No heretics burned but wenches’ suitors,

When every case in law is right,

No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;

When slanders do not live in tongues,

Nor cutpurses come not to throngs,

When usurers tell their gold i’ th’ field,

And bawds and whores do churches build,

Then shall the realm of Albion

Come to great confusion;

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

That going shall be used with feet.

95This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before 96his time.

He exits.]

Scene 3

Enter Gloucester and Edmund.

GLOUCESTER

1Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this 2unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I 3might pity him, they took from me the use of mine 4own house, charged me on pain of perpetual 5displeasure neither to speak of him, entreat for 6him, or any way sustain him.

EDMUND

7Most savage and unnatural.

GLOUCESTER

8Go to; say you nothing. There is division 9between the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I 10have received a letter this night; ’tis dangerous to 11be spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet. 12These injuries the King now bears will be revenged 13home; there is part of a power already footed. We 14must incline to the King. I will look him and privily 15relieve him. Go you and maintain talk with the 16Duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he 17ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for it, as 18no less is threatened me, the King my old master 19must be relieved. There is strange things toward, 20Edmund. Pray you, be careful.

He exits.

EDMUND

This courtesy forbid thee shall the Duke

Instantly know, and of that letter too.

This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me

That which my father loses — no less than all.

The younger rises when the old doth fall.

He exits.

Scene 4

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

KENT

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

The tyranny of the open night ’s too rough

For nature to endure.

Storm still.

LEAR

Let me alone.

KENT

Good my lord, enter here.

LEAR

Wilt break my heart?

KENT

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

LEAR

Thou think’st ’tis much that this contentious storm

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

But where the greater malady is fixed,

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

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

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

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

Doth from my senses take all feeling else

Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!

Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand

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

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

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

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

Your old kind father whose frank heart gave all!

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

No more of that.

KENT

Good my lord, enter here.

LEAR

Prithee, go in thyself. Seek thine own ease.

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder

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

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

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

⸢Fool⸣ exits.

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are,

That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,

How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,

Your looped and windowed raggedness defend you

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

Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp.

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,

That thou may’st shake the superflux to them

And show the heavens more just.

[EDGAR

37 ⸢within⸣ Fathom and half, fathom and half! 38Poor Tom!

Enter Fool.]

FOOL

39Come not in here, nuncle; here’s a spirit. Help 40me, help me!

KENT

41Give me thy hand. Who’s there?

FOOL

42A spirit, a spirit! He says his name’s Poor Tom.

KENT

43What art thou that dost grumble there i’ th’ 44straw? Come forth.

Enter Edgar ⸢in disguise.⸣

EDGAR

45Away. The foul fiend follows me. Through the 46sharp hawthorn ⟨blows the cold wind.⟩ Hum! Go to 47thy ⟨cold⟩ bed and warm thee.

LEAR

48Didst thou give all to thy daughters? And art thou 49come to this?

EDGAR

50Who gives anything to Poor Tom, whom the 51foul fiend hath led ⟨through⟩ fire and through flame, 52through ⟨ford⟩ and whirlpool, o’er bog and quagmire; 53that hath laid knives under his pillow and 54halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge, 55made him proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting 56horse over four-inched bridges to course his own 57shadow for a traitor? Bless thy five wits! Tom’s 58a-cold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from 59whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do Poor Tom 60some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There 61could I have him now, and there — and there again 62— and there.

Storm still.

LEAR

Has his daughters brought him to this pass? —

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

FOOL

65Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all 66shamed.

LEAR

Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air

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

KENT

69He hath no daughters, sir.

LEAR

Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature

To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.

Is it the fashion that discarded fathers

Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?

Judicious punishment! ’Twas this flesh begot

Those pelican daughters.

EDGAR

76Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill. Alow, alow, loo, 77loo.

FOOL

78This cold night will turn us all to fools and 79madmen.

EDGAR

80Take heed o’ th’ foul fiend. Obey thy parents, 81keep thy word’s justice, swear not, commit not with 82man’s sworn spouse, set not thy sweet heart on 83proud array. Tom’s a-cold.

LEAR

84What hast thou been?

EDGAR

85A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that 86curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap, served the 87lust of my mistress’ heart and did the act of 88darkness with her, swore as many oaths as I spake 89words and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; 90one that slept in the contriving of lust and waked to 91do it. Wine loved I ⟨deeply,⟩ dice dearly, and in 92woman out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart, 93light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in 94stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in 95prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling 96of silks betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy 97foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy 98pen from lenders’ books, and defy the foul fiend. 99Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind; 100says suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa! 101Let him trot by.

Storm still.

LEAR

102Thou wert better in a grave than to answer with 103thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. — Is 104man no more than this? Consider him well. — Thou 105ow’st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep 106no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha, here’s three on ’s 107are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated 108man is no more but such a poor, bare, 109forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! 110Come, unbutton here.

⸢Tearing off his clothes.⸣

FOOL

111Prithee, nuncle, be contented. ’Tis a naughty 112night to swim in. Now, a little fire in a wild field 113were like an old lecher’s heart — a small spark, all 114the rest on ’s body cold. Enter Gloucester, with a torch. 115Look, here comes a walking fire.

EDGAR

116This is the foul ⟨fiend⟩ Flibbertigibbet. He begins 117at curfew and walks ⟨till the⟩ first cock. He 118gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and 119makes the harelip, mildews the white wheat, and 120hurts the poor creature of earth.

121

Swithold footed thrice the ’old,

122

He met the nightmare and her ninefold,

123

Bid her alight,

124

And her troth plight,

125

And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee.

KENT

126How fares your Grace?

LEAR

127What’s he?

KENT

128Who’s there? What is ’t you seek?

GLOUCESTER

129What are you there? Your names?

EDGAR

130Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the 131toad, the tadpole, the wall newt, and the water; 132that, in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend 133rages, eats cow dung for sallets, swallows the old 134rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of 135the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to 136tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; 137who hath ⟨had⟩ three suits to his back, six shirts to 138his body,

139

Horse to ride, and weapon to wear;

140

But mice and rats and such small deer

141

Have been Tom’s food for seven long year.

142

Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin! Peace, thou

143

fiend!

GLOUCESTER

144

⸢to Lear⸣

What, hath your Grace no better company?

EDGAR

145The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman. Modo 146he’s called, and Mahu.

GLOUCESTER

147

⸢to Lear⸣

Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile

148

That it doth hate what gets it.

EDGAR

149

Poor Tom’s a-cold.

GLOUCESTER

150

⸢to Lear⸣

Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer

151

T’ obey in all your daughters’ hard commands.

152

Though their injunction be to bar my doors

153

And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,

154

Yet have I ventured to come seek you out

155

And bring you where both fire and food is ready.

LEAR

156

First let me talk with this philosopher.

157

⸢To Edgar.⸣

What is the cause of thunder?

KENT

158

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

LEAR

159

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

160

What is your study?

EDGAR

161

How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin.

LEAR

162

Let me ask you one word in private.

⸢They talk aside.⸣

KENT

163

⸢to Gloucester⸣

Importune him once more to go, my lord.

164

His wits begin t’ unsettle.

GLOUCESTER

Canst thou blame him?

Storm still.

165

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

166

He said it would be thus, poor banished man.

167

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

168

I am almost mad myself. I had a son,

169

Now outlawed from my blood. He sought my life

170

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

171

No father his son dearer. True to tell thee,

172

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

173

— I do beseech your Grace —

LEAR

174

O, cry you mercy, sir.

175

⸢To Edgar.⸣

Noble philosopher, your company.

EDGAR

176

Tom’s a-cold.

GLOUCESTER

177

⸢to Edgar⸣

In fellow, there, into th’ hovel. Keep thee warm.

LEAR

178

Come, let’s in all.

KENT

This way, my lord.

LEAR

⸢indicating Edgar⸣

With him.

179

I will keep still with my philosopher.

KENT

180

⸢to Gloucester⸣

Good my lord, soothe him. Let him take the fellow.

GLOUCESTER

181

⸢to Kent⸣

Take him you on.

KENT

182

⸢to Edgar⸣

Sirrah, come on: go along with us.

LEAR

183

Come, good Athenian.

GLOUCESTER

184

No words, no words. Hush.

EDGAR

185

Child Rowland to the dark tower came.

186

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

187

I smell the blood of a British man.”

They exit.

Scene 5

Enter Cornwall, and Edmund ⸢with a paper.⸣

CORNWALL

1I will have my revenge ere I depart his 2house.

EDMUND

3How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature 4thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to 5think of.

CORNWALL

6I now perceive it was not altogether your 7brother’s evil disposition made him seek his death, 8but a provoking merit set awork by a reprovable 9badness in himself.

EDMUND

10How malicious is my fortune that I must 11repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, 12which approves him an intelligent party to the 13advantages of France. O heavens, that this treason 14were not, or not I the detector.

CORNWALL

15Go with me to the Duchess.

EDMUND

16If the matter of this paper be certain, you 17have mighty business in hand.

CORNWALL

18True or false, it hath made thee Earl of 19Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he 20may be ready for our apprehension.

EDMUND

21⸢aside⸣ If I find him comforting the King, it 22 will stuff his suspicion more fully. — I will persevere 23in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore 24between that and my blood.

CORNWALL

25I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt 26find a ⟨dearer⟩ father in my love.

They exit.

Scene 6

Enter Kent ⸢in disguise,⸣ and Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER

1Here is better than the open air. Take it 2thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what 3addition I can. I will not be long from you.

KENT

4All the power of his wits have given way to his 5impatience. The gods reward your kindness!

⸢Gloucester⸣ exits.

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

EDGAR

6Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an 7angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and 8beware the foul fiend.

FOOL

9Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a 10gentleman or a yeoman.

LEAR

11A king, a king!

[FOOL

12No, he’s a yeoman that has a gentleman to his 13son, for he’s a mad yeoman that sees his son a 14gentleman before him.

LEAR]

To have a thousand with red burning spits

Come hissing in upon ’em!

⟨EDGAR

17The foul fiend bites my back.

FOOL

18He’s mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a 19horse’s health, a boy’s love, or a whore’s oath.

LEAR

It shall be done. I will arraign them straight.

⸢To Edgar.⸣

Come, sit thou here, most learnèd justice.

⸢To Fool.⸣

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

EDGAR

23Look where he stands and glares! — Want’st 24thou eyes at trial, madam?

⸢Sings.⸣

Come o’er the ⸢burn,⸣ Bessy, to me —

FOOL

⸢sings⸣

Her boat hath a leak,

And she must not speak

Why she dares not come over to thee.

EDGAR

29The foul fiend haunts Poor Tom in the voice of 30a nightingale. Hoppedance cries in Tom’s belly for 31two white herring. — Croak not, black angel. I have 32no food for thee.

KENT

⸢to Lear⸣

How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed.

Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?

LEAR

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

⸢To Edgar.⸣

Thou robèd man of justice, take thy place,

⸢To Fool.⸣

And thou, his yokefellow of equity,

Bench by his side.

⸢To Kent.⸣

You are o’ th’ commission;

Sit you, too.

EDGAR

40Let us deal justly.

⸢Sings.⸣

Sleepest or wakest, thou jolly shepherd?

Thy sheep be in the corn.

And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,

Thy sheep shall take no harm.

45Purr the cat is gray.

LEAR

46Arraign her first; ’tis Goneril. I here take my oath 47before this honorable assembly, kicked the poor 48king her father.

FOOL

49Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?

LEAR

50She cannot deny it.

FOOL

51Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint stool.

LEAR

And here’s another whose warped looks proclaim

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

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

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

EDGAR

56Bless thy five wits!

KENT

⸢to Lear⸣

O pity! Sir, where is the patience now

That you so oft have boasted to retain?

EDGAR

⸢aside⸣

My tears begin to take his part so much

They mar my counterfeiting.

LEAR

The little dogs and all,

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

EDGAR

63Tom will throw his head at them. — Avaunt, you 64curs!

Be thy mouth or black or white,

Tooth that poisons if it bite,

Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,

Hound or spaniel, brach, or ⸢lym,⸣

Bobtail ⟨tike,⟩ or ⟨trundle-tail,⟩

Tom will make him weep and wail;

For, with throwing thus my head,

Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled.

73Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes 74and fairs and market towns. Poor Tom, thy horn 75is dry.

LEAR

76Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds 77about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that 78make these hard hearts? ⸢To Edgar.⸣ You, sir, I 79entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like 80the fashion of your garments. You will say they are 81Persian, but let them be changed.

KENT

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

LEAR

83 ⸢lying down⸣ Make no noise, make no noise. 84Draw the curtains. So, so, we’ll go to supper i’ th’ 85morning.

[FOOL

86And I’ll go to bed at noon.]

Enter Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER

⸢to Kent⸣

Come hither, friend. Where is the King my master?

KENT

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

GLOUCESTER

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

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

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

And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet

Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.

If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life,

With thine and all that offer to defend him,

Stand in assurèd loss. Take up, take up,

And follow me, that will to some provision

Give thee quick conduct.

⟨KENT

Oppressèd nature sleeps.

This rest might yet have balmed thy broken sinews,

100

Which, if convenience will not allow,

101

Stand in hard cure.

⸢To the Fool.⸣

Come, help to bear thy master.

102

Thou must not stay behind.

GLOUCESTER⟩

Come, come away.

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

⟨EDGAR

103

When we our betters see bearing our woes,

104

We scarcely think our miseries our foes.

105

Who alone suffers suffers most i’ th’ mind,

106

Leaving free things and happy shows behind.

107

But then the mind much sufferance doth o’erskip

108

When grief hath mates and bearing fellowship.

109

How light and portable my pain seems now

110

When that which makes me bend makes the King bow!

111

He childed as I fathered. Tom, away.

112

Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray

113

When false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defile thee,

114

In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee.

115

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

116

Lurk, lurk.⟩

⸢He exits.⸣

Scene 7

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

CORNWALL

1 ⸢to Goneril⸣ Post speedily to my lord your 2husband. Show him this letter. ⸢He gives her a paper.⸣ 3The army of France is landed. — Seek out 4the traitor Gloucester.

⸢Some Servants exit.⸣

REGAN

5Hang him instantly.

GONERIL

6Pluck out his eyes.

CORNWALL

7Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, 8keep you our sister company. The revenges we are 9bound to take upon your traitorous father are not 10fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke, where you 11are going, to a most festinate preparation; we are 12bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift and 13intelligent betwixt us. — Farewell, dear sister. — 14Farewell, my lord of Gloucester. Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward. 15How now? Where’s the King?

OSWALD

My lord of Gloucester hath conveyed him hence.

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

Hot questrists after him, met him at gate,

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

Are gone with him toward Dover, where they boast

To have well-armèd friends.

CORNWALL

22Get horses for your mistress.

⸢Oswald exits.⸣

GONERIL

23Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.

CORNWALL

Edmund, farewell.

⸢Goneril and Edmund⸣ exit.

Go seek the traitor Gloucester.

Pinion him like a thief; bring him before us.

⸢Some Servants exit.⸣

Though well we may not pass upon his life

Without the form of justice, yet our power

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

May blame but not control.

Enter Gloucester and Servants.

Who’s there? The traitor?

REGAN

Ingrateful fox! ’Tis he.

CORNWALL

Bind fast his corky arms.

GLOUCESTER

What means your Graces? Good my friends, consider

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

CORNWALL

Bind him, I say.

REGAN

Hard, hard. O filthy traitor!

GLOUCESTER

Unmerciful lady as you are, I’m none.

CORNWALL

To this chair bind him.

⸢Servants bind Gloucester.⸣

Villain, thou shalt find —

⸢Regan plucks Gloucester’s beard.⸣

GLOUCESTER

By the kind gods, ’tis most ignobly done

To pluck me by the beard.

REGAN

So white, and such a traitor?

GLOUCESTER

Naughty lady,

These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin

Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your host;

With robber’s hands my hospitable favors

You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?

CORNWALL

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

REGAN

Be simple-answered, for we know the truth.

CORNWALL

And what confederacy have you with the traitors

Late footed in the kingdom?

REGAN

To whose hands

You have sent the lunatic king. Speak.

GLOUCESTER

I have a letter guessingly set down

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

And not from one opposed.

CORNWALL

Cunning.

REGAN

And false.

CORNWALL

Where hast thou sent the King?

GLOUCESTER

To Dover.

REGAN

Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charged at peril —

CORNWALL

Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that.

GLOUCESTER

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

REGAN

Wherefore to Dover?

GLOUCESTER

Because I would not see thy cruel nails

Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister

In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.

The sea, with such a storm as his bare head

In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up

And quenched the stellèd fires;

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

If wolves had at thy gate howled that stern time,

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

All cruels else subscribe. But I shall see

The wingèd vengeance overtake such children.

CORNWALL

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

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

GLOUCESTER

He that will think to live till he be old,

Give me some help!

⸢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.

CORNWALL

If you see vengeance —

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

Hold your hand, my lord.

I have served you ever since I was a child,

But better service have I never done you

Than now to bid you hold.

REGAN

How now, you dog?

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

If you did wear a beard upon your chin,

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

CORNWALL

82My villain?

⟨Draw and fight.⟩

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

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

REGAN

⸢to an Attendant⸣

Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus?

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

⸢FIRST⸣ SERVANT

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

To see some mischief on him. O!

⸢He dies.⸣

CORNWALL

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

⸢Forcing out Gloucester’s other eye.⸣

Where is thy luster now?

GLOUCESTER

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

Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature

To quit this horrid act.

REGAN

Out, treacherous villain!

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

That made the overture of thy treasons to us,

Who is too good to pity thee.

GLOUCESTER

O my follies! Then Edgar was abused.

Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him.

REGAN

Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell

His way to Dover.

⸢Some Servants⸣ exit with Gloucester.

How is ’t, my lord? How look you?

CORNWALL

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

100

Turn out that eyeless villain. Throw this slave

101

Upon the dunghill. — Regan, I bleed apace.

102

Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.

⸢Cornwall and Regan⸣ exit.

⟨⸢SECOND⸣ SERVANT

103

I’ll never care what wickedness I do

104

If this man come to good.

⸢THIRD⸣ SERVANT

If she live long

105

And in the end meet the old course of death,

106

Women will all turn monsters.

⸢SECOND⸣ SERVANT

107

Let’s follow the old earl and get the Bedlam

108

To lead him where he would. His roguish madness

109

Allows itself to anything.

⸢THIRD⸣ SERVANT

110

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

111

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

⸢They⸣ exit.⟩

ACT 4

Scene 1

Enter Edgar ⸢in disguise.⸣

EDGAR

Yet better thus, and known to be contemned,

Than still contemned and flattered. To be worst,

The lowest and most dejected thing of Fortune,

Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear.

The lamentable change is from the best;

The worst returns to laughter. [Welcome, then,

Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace.

The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst

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

Enter Gloucester and an old man.

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

But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,

Life would not yield to age.

OLD MAN

O my good lord, I have been your tenant

And your father’s tenant these fourscore years.

GLOUCESTER

Away, get thee away. Good friend, begone.

Thy comforts can do me no good at all;

Thee they may hurt.

OLD MAN

You cannot see your way.

GLOUCESTER

I have no way and therefore want no eyes.

I stumbled when I saw. Full oft ’tis seen

Our means secure us, and our mere defects

Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,

The food of thy abusèd father’s wrath,

Might I but live to see thee in my touch,

I’d say I had eyes again.

OLD MAN

How now? Who’s there?

EDGAR

⸢aside⸣

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

I am worse than e’er I was.

OLD MAN

’Tis poor mad Tom.

EDGAR

⸢aside⸣

And worse I may be yet. The worst is not

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

OLD MAN

Fellow, where goest?

GLOUCESTER

Is it a beggar-man?

OLD MAN

Madman and beggar too.

GLOUCESTER

He has some reason, else he could not beg.

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

Which made me think a man a worm. My son

Came then into my mind, and yet my mind

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

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

They kill us for their sport.

EDGAR

⸢aside⸣

How should this be?

Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,

Ang’ring itself and others. — Bless thee, master.

GLOUCESTER

Is that the naked fellow?

OLD MAN

Ay, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

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

Thou wilt o’ertake us hence a mile or twain

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

And bring some covering for this naked soul,

Which I’ll entreat to lead me.

OLD MAN

Alack, sir, he is mad.

GLOUCESTER

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

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

Above the rest, begone.

OLD MAN

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

Come on ’t what will.

He exits.

GLOUCESTER

Sirrah, naked fellow —

EDGAR

Poor Tom’s a-cold.

⸢aside⸣

— I cannot daub it further.

GLOUCESTER

Come hither, fellow.

EDGAR

⸢aside⸣

And yet I must. — Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

GLOUCESTER

55Know’st thou the way to Dover?

EDGAR

56Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. 57Poor Tom hath been ⟨scared⟩ out of his good wits. 58Bless thee, good man’s son, from the foul fiend. 59⟨Five fiends have been in Poor Tom at once: of lust, 60as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; 61Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; ⸢Flibbertigibbet,⸣ 62of ⸢mopping⸣ and ⸢mowing,⸣ who since possesses 63chambermaids and waiting women. So, bless 64thee, master.⟩

GLOUCESTER

⸢giving him money⸣

Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens’ plagues

Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched

Makes thee the happier. Heavens, deal so still:

Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,

That slaves your ordinance, that will not see

Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly.

So distribution should undo excess

And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?

EDGAR

Ay, master.

GLOUCESTER

There is a cliff, whose high and bending head

Looks fearfully in the confinèd deep.

Bring me but to the very brim of it,

And I’ll repair the misery thou dost bear

With something rich about me. From that place

I shall no leading need.

EDGAR

Give me thy arm.

Poor Tom shall lead thee.

They exit.

Scene 2

Enter Goneril and ⸢Edmund, the⸣ Bastard.

GONERIL

Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband

Not met us on the way.

⟨Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.⟩

Now, where’s your master?

OSWALD

Madam, within, but never man so changed.

I told him of the army that was landed;

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

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

And of the loyal service of his son

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

And told me I had turned the wrong side out.

What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;

What like, offensive.

GONERIL

⸢to Edmund⸣

Then shall you go no further.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit,

That dares not undertake. He’ll not feel wrongs

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

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

Hasten his musters and conduct his powers.

I must change names at home and give the distaff

Into my husband’s hands. This trusty servant

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

If you dare venture in your own behalf —

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

⸢She gives him a favor.⸣

Decline your head.

⸢She kisses him.⸣

This kiss, if it durst speak,

Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.

Conceive, and fare thee well.

EDMUND

Yours in the ranks of death.

He exits.

GONERIL

My most dear Gloucester!

[O, the difference of man and man!]

To thee a woman’s services are due;

My fool usurps my body.

OSWALD

29Madam, here comes my lord.

⟨He exits.⟩

Enter Albany.

GONERIL

I have been worth the whistle.

ALBANY

O Goneril,

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind

Blows in your face. ⟨I fear your disposition.

That nature which contemns its origin

Cannot be bordered certain in itself.

She that herself will sliver and disbranch

From her material sap perforce must wither

And come to deadly use.

GONERIL

No more. The text is foolish.

ALBANY

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile.

Filths savor but themselves. What have you done?

Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed?

A father, and a gracious agèd man,

Whose reverence even the head-lugged bear would lick,

Most barbarous, most degenerate, have you madded.

Could my good brother suffer you to do it?

A man, a prince, by him so benefited!

If that the heavens do not their visible spirits

Send quickly down to tame ⸢these⸣ vile offenses,

It will come:

Humanity must perforce prey on itself,

Like monsters of the deep.⟩

GONERIL

Milk-livered man,

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

Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning

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

Fools do those villains pity who are punished

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

France spreads his banners in our noiseless land,

With plumèd helm thy state begins ⸢to threat,⸣

Whilst thou, a moral fool, sits still and cries

“Alack, why does he so?”⟩

ALBANY

See thyself, devil!

Proper deformity ⟨shows⟩ not in the fiend

So horrid as in woman.

GONERIL

O vain fool!

⟨ALBANY

Thou changèd and self-covered thing, for shame

Bemonster not thy feature. Were ’t my fitness

To let these hands obey my blood,

They are apt enough to dislocate and tear

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

A woman’s shape doth shield thee.

GONERIL

Marry, your manhood, mew — ⟩

Enter a Messenger.

⟨ALBANY

What news?⟩

MESSENGER

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

Slain by his servant, going to put out

The other eye of Gloucester.

ALBANY

Gloucester’s eyes?

MESSENGER

A servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse,

Opposed against the act, bending his sword

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

Flew on him and amongst them felled him dead,

But not without that harmful stroke which since

Hath plucked him after.

ALBANY

This shows you are above,

You ⟨justicers,⟩ that these our nether crimes

So speedily can venge. But, O poor Gloucester,

Lost he his other eye?

MESSENGER

Both, both, my lord. —

This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer.

⸢Giving her a paper.⸣

’Tis from your sister.

GONERIL

⸢aside⸣

One way I like this well.

But being widow and my Gloucester with her

May all the building in my fancy pluck

Upon my hateful life. Another way

The news is not so tart. — I’ll read, and answer.

⟨She exits.⟩

ALBANY

Where was his son when they did take his eyes?

MESSENGER

Come with my lady hither.

ALBANY

He is not here.

MESSENGER

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

ALBANY

92Knows he the wickedness?

MESSENGER

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

And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment

Might have the freer course.

ALBANY

Gloucester, I live

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

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

Tell me what more thou know’st.

They exit.

⸢Scene 3⸣

⟨Enter Kent ⸢in disguise⸣ and a Gentleman.

KENT

1Why the King of France is so suddenly gone 2back know you no reason?

GENTLEMAN

3Something he left imperfect in the state, 4which since his coming forth is thought of, which 5imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger 6that his personal return was most required and 7necessary.

KENT

8Who hath he left behind him general?

GENTLEMAN

9The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.

KENT

10Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration 11of grief?

GENTLEMAN

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

And now and then an ample tear trilled down

Her delicate cheek. It seemed she was a queen

Over her passion, who, most rebel-like,

Fought to be king o’er her.

KENT

O, then it moved her.

GENTLEMAN

Not to a rage. Patience and sorrow ⸢strove⸣

Who should express her goodliest. You have seen

Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and tears

Were like a better way. Those happy smilets

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

What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence

As pearls from diamonds dropped. In brief,

Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved

If all could so become it.

KENT

Made she no verbal question?

GENTLEMAN

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

Pantingly forth, as if it pressed her heart;

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

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

Let pity not be believed!” There she shook

The holy water from her heavenly eyes,

And clamor moistened. Then away she started,

To deal with grief alone.

KENT

It is the stars.

The stars above us govern our conditions,

Else one self mate and make could not beget

Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?

GENTLEMAN

No.

KENT

Was this before the King returned?

GENTLEMAN

No, since.

KENT

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

Who sometime in his better tune remembers

What we are come about, and by no means

Will yield to see his daughter.

GENTLEMAN

Why, good sir?

KENT

A sovereign shame so elbows him — his own unkindness,

That stripped her from his benediction, turned her

To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters — these things sting

His mind so venomously that burning shame

Detains him from Cordelia.

GENTLEMAN

50Alack, poor gentleman!

KENT

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

GENTLEMAN

’Tis so. They are afoot.

KENT

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

And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause

Will in concealment wrap me up awhile.

When I am known aright, you shall not grieve

Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go

Along with me.

⸢They⸣ exit.⟩

Scene ⸢4⸣

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

CORDELIA

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

As mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud,

Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,

With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckooflowers,

Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow

In our sustaining corn. A century send forth.

Search every acre in the high-grown field

And bring him to our eye.

⸢Soldiers exit.⸣

What can man’s wisdom

In the restoring his bereavèd sense?

He that helps him take all my outward worth.

⟨DOCTOR⟩

There is means, madam.

Our foster nurse of nature is repose,

The which he lacks. That to provoke in him

Are many simples operative, whose power

Will close the eye of anguish.

CORDELIA

All blest secrets,

All you unpublished virtues of the earth,

Spring with my tears. Be aidant and remediate

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

Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life

That wants the means to lead it.

Enter Messenger.

MESSENGER

News, madam.

The British powers are marching hitherward.

CORDELIA

’Tis known before. Our preparation stands

In expectation of them. — O dear father,

It is thy business that I go about.

Therefore great France

My mourning and importuned tears hath pitied.

No blown ambition doth our arms incite,

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

Soon may I hear and see him.

They exit.

Scene ⸢5⸣

Enter Regan and ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.

REGAN

But are my brother’s powers set forth?

OSWALD

Ay, madam.

REGAN

Himself in person there?

OSWALD

Madam, with much ado.

Your sister is the better soldier.

REGAN

Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?

OSWALD

No, madam.

REGAN

What might import my sister’s letter to him?

OSWALD

I know not, lady.

REGAN

Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.

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

To let him live. Where he arrives he moves

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

In pity of his misery, to dispatch

His nighted life; moreover to descry

The strength o’ th’ enemy.

OSWALD

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

REGAN

Our troops set forth tomorrow. Stay with us.

The ways are dangerous.

OSWALD

I may not, madam.

My lady charged my duty in this business.

REGAN

Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you

Transport her purposes by word? Belike,

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

Let me unseal the letter.

OSWALD

Madam, I had rather —

REGAN

I know your lady does not love her husband;

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

She gave strange eliads and most speaking looks

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

OSWALD

I, madam?

REGAN

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

Therefore I do advise you take this note:

My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talked,

And more convenient is he for my hand

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

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

And when your mistress hears thus much from you,

I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.

So, fare you well.

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,

Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

OSWALD

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

What party I do follow.

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?

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

Methinks the ground is even.

EDGAR

Horrible steep.

Hark, do you hear the sea?

GLOUCESTER

No, truly.

EDGAR

Why then, your other senses grow imperfect

By your eyes’ anguish.

GLOUCESTER

So may it be indeed.

Methinks thy voice is altered and thou speak’st

In better phrase and matter than thou didst.

EDGAR

You’re much deceived; in nothing am I changed

But in my garments.

GLOUCESTER

Methinks you’re better spoken.

EDGAR

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

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

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air

Show scarce so gross as beetles. Halfway down

Hangs one that gathers samphire — dreadful trade;

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.

The fishermen that ⟨walk⟩ upon the beach

Appear like mice, and yond tall anchoring bark

Diminished to her cock, her cock a buoy

Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge

That on th’ unnumbered idle pebble chafes

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

Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight

Topple down headlong.

GLOUCESTER

Set me where you stand.

EDGAR

Give me your hand. You are now within a foot

Of th’ extreme verge. For all beneath the moon

Would I not leap upright.

GLOUCESTER

Let go my hand.

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

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

Prosper it with thee.

⸢He gives Edgar a purse.⸣

Go thou further off.

Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

EDGAR

⸢walking away⸣

Now fare you well, good sir.

GLOUCESTER

With all my heart.

EDGAR

⸢aside⸣

Why I do trifle thus with his despair

Is done to cure it.

GLOUCESTER

O you mighty gods!

⟨He kneels.⟩

This world I do renounce, and in your sights

Shake patiently my great affliction off.

If I could bear it longer, and not fall

To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,

My snuff and loathèd part of nature should

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

Now, fellow, fare thee well.

⟨He falls.⟩

EDGAR

Gone, sir. Farewell. —

And yet I know not how conceit may rob

The treasury of life, when life itself

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

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

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

Thus might he pass indeed. Yet he revives. —

What are you, sir?

GLOUCESTER

Away, and let me die.

EDGAR

Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,

So many fathom down precipitating,

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

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

Ten masts at each make not the altitude

Which thou hast perpendicularly fell.

Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again.

GLOUCESTER

But have I fall’n or no?

EDGAR

From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.

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

Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up.

GLOUCESTER

Alack, I have no eyes.

Is wretchedness deprived that benefit

To end itself by death? ’Twas yet some comfort

When misery could beguile the tyrant’s rage

And frustrate his proud will.

EDGAR

Give me your arm.

⸢He raises Gloucester.⸣

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

GLOUCESTER

Too well, too well.

EDGAR

This is above all strangeness.

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

Which parted from you?

GLOUCESTER

A poor unfortunate beggar.

EDGAR

As I stood here below, methought his eyes

Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,

Horns whelked and waved like the enragèd sea.

It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,

Think that the clearest gods, who make them honors

Of men’s impossibilities, have preserved thee.

GLOUCESTER

I do remember now. Henceforth I’ll bear

Affliction till it do cry out itself

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

I took it for a man. Often ’twould say

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

EDGAR

Bear free and patient thoughts.

Enter Lear.

But who comes here?

The safer sense will ne’er accommodate

His master thus.

LEAR

83No, they cannot touch me for ⟨coining⟩. I am the 84King himself.

EDGAR

85O, thou side-piercing sight!

LEAR

86Nature’s above art in that respect. There’s your 87press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a 88crowkeeper. Draw me a clothier’s yard. Look, look, 89a mouse! Peace, peace! This piece of toasted cheese 90will do ’t. There’s my gauntlet; I’ll prove it on a 91giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, bird! 92I’ th’ clout, i’ th’ clout! Hewgh! Give the word.

EDGAR

93Sweet marjoram.

LEAR

94Pass.

GLOUCESTER

95I know that voice.

LEAR

96Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flattered 97me like a dog and told me I had the white hairs in 98my beard ere the black ones were there. To say “ay” 99and “no” to everything that I said “ay” and “no” to 100was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me 101once and the wind to make me chatter, when the 102thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I 103found ’em, there I smelt ’em out. Go to. They are 104not men o’ their words; they told me I was everything. 105’Tis a lie. I am not ague-proof.

GLOUCESTER

106

The trick of that voice I do well remember.

107

Is ’t not the King?

LEAR

Ay, every inch a king.

108

When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.

109

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

110Adultery? Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No. 111The wren goes to ’t, and the small gilded fly does 112lecher in my sight. Let copulation thrive, for 113Gloucester’s bastard son was kinder to his father 114than my daughters got ’tween the lawful sheets. To 115’t, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. Behold yond 116simp’ring dame, whose face between her forks 117presages snow, that minces virtue and does shake 118the head to hear of pleasure’s name. The fitchew 119nor the soiled horse goes to ’t with a more riotous 120appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, 121though women all above. But to the girdle do the 122gods inherit; beneath is all the fiend’s. There’s hell, 123there’s darkness, there is the sulphurous pit; burning, 124scalding, stench, consumption! Fie, fie, fie, pah, 125pah! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary; 126sweeten my imagination. There’s money for thee.

GLOUCESTER

127O, let me kiss that hand!

LEAR

128Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

GLOUCESTER

129

O ruined piece of nature! This great world

130

Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me?

LEAR

131I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou 132squinny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid, I’ll 133not love. Read thou this challenge. Mark but the 134penning of it.

GLOUCESTER

135

Were all thy letters suns, I could not see.

EDGAR

136

⸢aside⸣

I would not take this from report. It is,

137

And my heart breaks at it.

LEAR

138Read.

GLOUCESTER

139What, with the case of eyes?

LEAR

140O ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your 141head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in 142a heavy case, your purse in a light, yet you see how 143this world goes.

GLOUCESTER

144I see it feelingly.

LEAR

145What, art mad? A man may see how this world 146goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears. See how 147yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark in 148thine ear. Change places and, handy-dandy, which 149is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a 150farmer’s dog bark at a beggar?

GLOUCESTER

151Ay, sir.

LEAR

152And the creature run from the cur? There thou 153might’st behold the great image of authority: a 154dog’s obeyed in office.

155

Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!

156

Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thy own back.

157

Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind

158

For which thou whipp’st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.

159

Through tattered clothes ⟨small⟩ vices do appear.

160

Robes and furred gowns hide all. [⸢Plate sin⸣ with gold,

161

And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks.

162

Arm it in rags, a pygmy’s straw does pierce it.

163

None does offend, none, I say, none; I’ll able ’em.

164

Take that of me, my friend, who have the power

165

To seal th’ accuser’s lips.] Get thee glass eyes,

166

And like a scurvy politician

167

Seem to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now.

168

Pull off my boots. Harder, harder. So.

EDGAR

169

⸢aside⸣

O, matter and impertinency mixed,

170

Reason in madness!

LEAR

171

If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.

172

I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester.

173

Thou must be patient. We came crying hither;

174

Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air

175

We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee. Mark.

GLOUCESTER

176Alack, alack the day!

LEAR

177

When we are born, we cry that we are come

178

To this great stage of fools. — This’ a good block.

179

It were a delicate stratagem to shoe

180

A troop of horse with felt. I’ll put ’t in proof,

181

And when I have stol’n upon these son-in-laws,

182

Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

Enter a Gentleman ⸢and Attendants.⸣

GENTLEMAN

183

⸢noticing Lear⸣

O, here he is.

⸢To an Attendant.⸣

Lay hand upon him. — Sir,

184

Your most dear daughter —

LEAR

185

No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even

186

The natural fool of Fortune. Use me well.

187

You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons;

188

I am cut to th’ brains.

GENTLEMAN

You shall have anything.

LEAR

189

No seconds? All myself?

190

Why, this would make a man a man of salt,

191

To use his eyes for garden waterpots,

192

⟨Ay, and laying autumn’s dust.⟩

193

I will die bravely like a smug bridegroom. What?

194

I will be jovial. Come, come, I am a king,

195

Masters, know you that?

GENTLEMAN

196

You are a royal one, and we obey you.

LEAR

197Then there’s life in ’t. Come, an you get it, you 198shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

⟨The King exits running ⸢pursued by Attendants.⸣⟩

GENTLEMAN

199

A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,

200

Past speaking of in a king. Thou hast a daughter

201

Who redeems nature from the general curse

202

Which twain have brought her to.

EDGAR

203

Hail, gentle sir.

GENTLEMAN

204

Sir, speed you. What’s your will?

EDGAR

205

Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?

GENTLEMAN

206

Most sure and vulgar. Everyone hears that,

207

Which can distinguish sound.

EDGAR

But, by your favor,

208

How near’s the other army?

GENTLEMAN

209

Near and on speedy foot. The main descry

210

Stands on the hourly thought.

EDGAR

211I thank you, sir. That’s all.

GENTLEMAN

212

Though that the Queen on special cause is here,

213

Her army is moved on.

EDGAR

I thank you, sir.

⸢Gentleman⸣ exits.

GLOUCESTER

214

You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;

215

Let not my worser spirit tempt me again

216

To die before you please.

EDGAR

217

Well pray you, father.

GLOUCESTER

218

Now, good sir, what are you?

EDGAR

219

A most poor man, made tame to Fortune’s blows,

220

Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,

221

Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand;

222

I’ll lead you to some biding.

⸢He takes Gloucester’s hand.⸣

GLOUCESTER

Hearty thanks.

223

The bounty and the benison of heaven

224

To boot, and boot.

Enter ⸢Oswald, the⸣ Steward.

OSWALD

⸢drawing his sword⸣

A proclaimed prize! Most happy!

225

That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh

226

To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,

227

Briefly thyself remember; the sword is out

228

That must destroy thee.

GLOUCESTER

Now let thy friendly hand

229

Put strength enough to ’t.

⸢Edgar steps between Gloucester and Oswald.⸣

OSWALD

Wherefore, bold peasant,

230

Dar’st thou support a published traitor? Hence,

231

Lest that th’ infection of his fortune take

232

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

EDGAR

233Chill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion.

OSWALD

234

Let go, slave, or thou diest!

EDGAR

235Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor 236volk pass. An ’chud ha’ bin zwaggered out of my 237life, ’twould not ha’ bin zo long as ’tis by a vortnight. 238Nay, come not near th’ old man. Keep out, 239che vor’ ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my 240ballow be the harder. Chill be plain with you.

OSWALD

241

Out, dunghill.

EDGAR

242Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come, no matter vor 243your foins.

⟨They fight.⟩

OSWALD

244

⸢falling⸣

Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse.

245

If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body,

246

And give the letters which thou find’st about me

247

To Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out

248

Upon the English party. O, untimely death! Death!

⟨He dies.⟩

EDGAR

249

I know thee well, a serviceable villain,

250

As duteous to the vices of thy mistress

251

As badness would desire.

GLOUCESTER

252

What, is he dead?

EDGAR

253

Sit you down, father; rest you.

254

Let’s see these pockets. The letters that he speaks of

255

May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorry

256

He had no other deathsman. Let us see.

⸢He opens a letter.⸣

257

Leave, gentle wax, and, manners, blame us not.

258

To know our enemies’ minds, we rip their hearts.

259

Their papers is more lawful.

(Reads the letter.)

260Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have 261many opportunities to cut him off. If your will want 262not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is 263nothing done if he return the conqueror. Then am I 264the prisoner, and his bed my jail, from the loathed 265warmth whereof deliver me and supply the place for 266your labor. 267Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, 268⟨and, for you, her own for venture,⟩ Goneril.

269

O indistinguished space of woman’s will!

270

A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life,

271

And the exchange my brother. — Here, in the sands

272

Thee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctified

273

Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time

274

With this ungracious paper strike the sight

275

Of the death-practiced duke. For him ’tis well

276

That of thy death and business I can tell.

GLOUCESTER

277

The King is mad. How stiff is my vile sense

278

That I stand up and have ingenious feeling

279

Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract.

280

So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs,

281

And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose

282

The knowledge of themselves.

Drum afar off.

EDGAR

Give me your hand.

283

Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum.

284

Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend.

They exit.

Scene 7

Enter Cordelia, Kent ⸢in disguise,⸣ ⟨Doctor,⟩ and Gentleman.

CORDELIA

O, thou good Kent, how shall I live and work

To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,

And every measure fail me.

KENT

To be acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid.

All my reports go with the modest truth,

Nor more, nor clipped, but so.

CORDELIA

Be better suited.

These weeds are memories of those worser hours.

I prithee put them off.

KENT

Pardon, dear madam.

Yet to be known shortens my made intent.

My boon I make it that you know me not

Till time and I think meet.

CORDELIA

Then be ’t so, my good lord. — How does the King?

⟨DOCTOR⟩

Madam, sleeps still.

CORDELIA

O, you kind gods,

Cure this great breach in his abusèd nature!

Th’ untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up,

Of this child-changèd father!

⟨DOCTOR⟩

So please your Majesty

That we may wake the King? He hath slept long.

CORDELIA

Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed

I’ th’ sway of your own will. Is he arrayed?

Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants.

GENTLEMAN

Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep,

We put fresh garments on him.

⸢DOCTOR⸣

Be by, good madam, when we do awake him.

I doubt ⟨not⟩ of his temperance.

⟨CORDELIA

Very well.

⸢Music.⸣

DOCTOR

Please you, draw near. — Louder the music there.⟩

CORDELIA

⸢kissing Lear⸣

O, my dear father, restoration hang

Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss

Repair those violent harms that my two sisters

Have in thy reverence made.

KENT

Kind and dear princess.

CORDELIA

Had you not been their father, these white flakes

Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face

To be opposed against the jarring winds?

⟨To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder,

In the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick cross-lightning? To watch, poor perdu,

With this thin helm?⟩ Mine enemy’s dog,

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night

Against my fire. And wast thou fain, poor father,

To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn

In short and musty straw? Alack, alack,

’Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once

Had not concluded all. — He wakes. Speak to him.

⟨DOCTOR⟩

Madam, do you; ’tis fittest.

CORDELIA

How does my royal lord? How fares your Majesty?

LEAR

You do me wrong to take me out o’ th’ grave.

Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

Do scald like molten lead.

CORDELIA

Sir, do you know me?

LEAR

You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die?

CORDELIA

Still, still, far wide.

⟨DOCTOR⟩

He’s scarce awake. Let him alone awhile.

LEAR

Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?

I am mightily abused; I should e’en die with pity

To see another thus. I know not what to say.

I will not swear these are my hands. Let’s see.

I feel this pinprick. Would I were assured

Of my condition!

CORDELIA

O, look upon me, sir,

And hold your hand in benediction o’er me.

⟨No, sir,⟩ you must not kneel.

LEAR

Pray do not mock:

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less,

And to deal plainly,

I fear I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks I should know you and know this man,

Yet I am doubtful, for I am mainly ignorant

What place this is, and all the skill I have

Remembers not these garments; nor I know not

Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me,

For, as I am a man, I think this lady

To be my child Cordelia.

CORDELIA

⸢weeping⸣

And so I am; I am.

LEAR

Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray, weep not.

If you have poison for me, I will drink it.

I know you do not love me, for your sisters

Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.

You have some cause; they have not.

CORDELIA

No cause, no cause.

LEAR

Am I in France?

KENT

In your own kingdom, sir.

LEAR

Do not abuse me.

⟨DOCTOR⟩

Be comforted, good madam. The great rage,

You see, is killed in him, ⟨and yet it is danger

To make him even o’er the time he has lost.⟩

Desire him to go in. Trouble him no more

Till further settling.

CORDELIA

Will ’t please your Highness walk?

LEAR

You must bear with me.

Pray you now, forget, and forgive. I am old and foolish.

⟨They exit. Kent and Gentleman remain.⟩

⟨GENTLEMAN

88Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall 89was so slain?

KENT

90Most certain, sir.

GENTLEMAN

91Who is conductor of his people?

KENT

92As ’tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.

GENTLEMAN

93They say Edgar, his banished son, is with 94the Earl of Kent in Germany.

KENT

95Report is changeable. ’Tis time to look about. 96The powers of the kingdom approach apace.

GENTLEMAN

97The arbitrament is like to be bloody. Fare 98you well, sir.

⸢He exits.⸣

KENT

My point and period will be throughly wrought,

100

Or well, or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.

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,

Or whether since he is advised by aught

To change the course. He’s full of alteration

And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure.

⸢A Gentleman exits.⸣

REGAN

Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.

EDMUND

’Tis to be doubted, madam.

REGAN

Now, sweet lord,

You know the goodness I intend upon you;

Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth,

Do you not love my sister?

EDMUND

In honored love.

REGAN

But have you never found my brother’s way

To the forfended place?

⟨EDMUND

That thought abuses you.

REGAN

I am doubtful that you have been conjunct

And bosomed with her as far as we call hers.⟩

EDMUND

No, by mine honor, madam.

REGAN

I never shall endure her. Dear my lord,

Be not familiar with her.

EDMUND

Fear ⟨me⟩ not. She and the Duke, her husband.

Enter, with Drum and Colors, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers.

⟨GONERIL

⸢aside⸣

I had rather lose the battle than that sister

Should loosen him and me.⟩

ALBANY

Our very loving sister, well bemet. —

Sir, this I heard: the King is come to his daughter,

With others whom the rigor of our state

Forced to cry out. ⟨Where I could not be honest,

I never yet was valiant. For this business,

It touches us as France invades our land,

Not bolds the King, with others whom, I fear,

Most just and heavy causes make oppose.

EDMUND

Sir, you speak nobly.⟩

REGAN

Why is this reasoned?

GONERIL

Combine together ’gainst the enemy,

For these domestic and particular broils

Are not the question here.

ALBANY

Let’s then determine

With th’ ancient of war on our proceeding.

⟨EDMUND

I shall attend you presently at your tent.⟩

REGAN

Sister, you’ll go with us?

GONERIL

No.

REGAN

’Tis most convenient. Pray, go with us.

GONERIL

⸢aside⸣

Oho, I know the riddle. — I will go.

⸢They begin to exit.⸣

Enter Edgar ⸢dressed as a peasant.⸣

EDGAR

⸢to Albany⸣

If e’er your Grace had speech with man so poor,

Hear me one word.

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.

If you have victory, let the trumpet sound

For him that brought it. Wretched though I seem,

I can produce a champion that will prove

What is avouchèd there. If you miscarry,

Your business of the world hath so an end,

And machination ceases. Fortune ⟨love⟩ you.

ALBANY

Stay till I have read the letter.

EDGAR

I was forbid it.

When time shall serve, let but the herald cry

And I’ll appear again.

He exits.

ALBANY

Why, fare thee well. I will o’erlook thy paper.

Enter Edmund.

EDMUND

The enemy’s in view. Draw up your powers.

⸢Giving him a paper.⸣

Here is the guess of their true strength and forces

By diligent discovery. But your haste

Is now urged on you.

ALBANY

We will greet the time.

He exits.

EDMUND

To both these sisters have I sworn my love,

Each jealous of the other as the stung

Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?

Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enjoyed

If both remain alive. To take the widow

Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril,

And hardly shall I carry out my side,

Her husband being alive. Now, then, we’ll use

His countenance for the battle, which, being done,

Let her who would be rid of him devise

His speedy taking off. As for the mercy

Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,

The battle done and they within our power,

Shall never see his pardon, for my state

Stands on me to defend, not to debate.

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

For your good host. Pray that the right may thrive.

If ever I return to you again,

I’ll bring you comfort.

GLOUCESTER

Grace go with you, sir.

⸢Edgar⸣ exits.

Alarum and Retreat within.

Enter Edgar.

EDGAR

Away, old man. Give me thy hand. Away.

King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta’en.

Give me thy hand. Come on.

GLOUCESTER

No further, sir. A man may rot even here.

EDGAR

What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure

Their going hence even as their coming hither.

Ripeness is all. Come on.

[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

Until their greater pleasures first be known

That are to censure them.

CORDELIA

⸢to Lear⸣

We are not the first

Who with best meaning have incurred the worst.

For thee, oppressèd king, I am cast down.

Myself could else outfrown false Fortune’s frown.

Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?

LEAR

No, no, no, no. Come, let’s away to prison.

We two alone will sing like birds i’ th’ cage.

When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down

And ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live,

And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh

At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues

Talk of court news, and we’ll talk with them too —

Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out —

And take upon ’s the mystery of things,

As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out,

In a walled prison, packs and sects of great ones

That ebb and flow by th’ moon.

EDMUND

Take them away.

LEAR

Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,

The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?

He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven

And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes.

The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell,

Ere they shall make us weep. We’ll see ’em starved first.

Come.

⸢Lear and Cordelia⸣ exit, ⸢with Soldiers.⸣

EDMUND

Come hither, captain. Hark.

⸢Handing him a paper.⸣

Take thou this note. Go follow them to prison.

One step I have advanced thee. If thou dost

As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way

To noble fortunes. Know thou this: that men

Are as the time is; to be tender-minded

Does not become a sword. Thy great employment

Will not bear question. Either say thou ’lt do ’t,

Or thrive by other means.

CAPTAIN

I’ll do ’t, my lord.

EDMUND

About it, and write “happy” when th’ hast done.

Mark, I say, instantly, and carry it so

As I have set it down.

⟨CAPTAIN

I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats.

If it be man’s work, I’ll do ’t.⟩

Captain exits.

Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Soldiers ⸢and a Captain.⸣

ALBANY

⸢to Edmund⸣

Sir, you have showed today your valiant strain,

And Fortune led you well. You have the captives

Who were the opposites of this day’s strife.

I do require them of you, so to use them

As we shall find their merits and our safety

May equally determine.

EDMUND

Sir, I thought it fit

To send the old and miserable king

To some retention ⟨and appointed guard,⟩

Whose age had charms in it, whose title more,

To pluck the common bosom on his side

And turn our impressed lances in our eyes,

Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen,

My reason all the same, and they are ready

Tomorrow, or at further space, t’ appear

Where you shall hold your session. ⟨At this time

We sweat and bleed. The friend hath lost his friend,

And the best quarrels in the heat are cursed

By those that feel their sharpness.

The question of Cordelia and her father

Requires a fitter place.⟩

ALBANY

Sir, by your patience,

I hold you but a subject of this war,

Not as a brother.

REGAN

That’s as we list to grace him.

Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded

Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers,

Bore the commission of my place and person,

The which immediacy may well stand up

And call itself your brother.

GONERIL

Not so hot.

In his own grace he doth exalt himself

More than in your addition.

REGAN

In my rights,

By me invested, he compeers the best.

⟨GONERIL⟩

That were the most if he should husband you.

REGAN

Jesters do oft prove prophets.

GONERIL

Holla, holla!

That eye that told you so looked but asquint.

REGAN

Lady, I am not well, else I should answer

From a full-flowing stomach.

⸢To Edmund.⸣

General,

Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony.

[Dispose of them, of me; the walls is thine.]

Witness the world that I create thee here

My lord and master.

GONERIL

Mean you to enjoy him?

ALBANY

The let-alone lies not in your goodwill.

EDMUND

Nor in thine, lord.

ALBANY

Half-blooded fellow, yes.

REGAN

⸢to Edmund⸣

Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.

ALBANY

Stay yet, hear reason. — Edmund, I arrest thee

On capital treason; and, in ⟨thine attaint,⟩

This gilded serpent. — For your claim, fair ⟨sister,⟩

I bar it in the interest of my wife.

’Tis she is subcontracted to this lord,

And I, her husband, contradict your banns.

If you will marry, make your loves to me.

My lady is bespoke.

[GONERIL

An interlude!]

ALBANY

Thou art armed, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound.

If none appear to prove upon thy person

Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,

There is my pledge.

⸢He throws down a glove.⸣

I’ll make it on thy heart,

Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less

Than I have here proclaimed thee.

REGAN

Sick, O, sick!

GONERIL

⸢aside⸣

If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine.

EDMUND

100

There’s my exchange.

⸢He throws down a glove.⸣

What in the world ⟨he is⟩

101

That names me traitor, villain-like he lies.

102

Call by the trumpet. He that dares approach,

103

On him, on you, who not, I will maintain

104

My truth and honor firmly.

ALBANY

105

A herald, ho!

⟨EDMUND

A herald, ho, a herald!⟩

⟨ALBANY⟩

106

Trust to thy single virtue, for thy soldiers,

107

All levied in my name, have in my name

108

Took their discharge.

REGAN

My sickness grows upon me.

ALBANY

109

She is not well. Convey her to my tent.

⸢Regan is helped to exit.⸣

Enter a Herald.

110

Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound,

111

And read out this.

⸢He hands the Herald a paper.⸣

⟨CAPTAIN

112Sound, trumpet!⟩

A trumpet sounds.

HERALD

113 (reads.) If any man of quality or degree, within the lists of the 114army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of 115Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him 116appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in 117his defense. [First trumpet ⸢sounds. 118Again! Second trumpet ⸢sounds.⸣ 119Again!

Third trumpet ⸢sounds.⸣

Trumpet answers within.]

Enter Edgar armed.

ALBANY

120

⸢to Herald⸣

Ask him his purposes, why he appears

121

Upon this call o’ th’ trumpet.

HERALD

What are you?

122

Your name, your quality, and why you answer

123

This present summons?

EDGAR

Know my name is lost,

124

By treason’s tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit.

125

Yet am I noble as the adversary

126

I come to cope.

ALBANY

Which is that adversary?

EDGAR

127

What’s he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?

EDMUND

128

Himself. What sayest thou to him?

EDGAR

Draw thy sword,

129

That if my speech offend a noble heart,

130

Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine.

⸢He draws his sword.⸣

131

Behold, it is my privilege, the privilege of mine honors,

132

My oath, and my profession. I protest,

133

Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,

134

⟨Despite⟩ thy victor-sword and fire-new fortune,

135

Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a traitor,

136

False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father,

137

Conspirant ’gainst this high illustrious prince,

138

And from th’ extremest upward of thy head

139

To the descent and dust below thy foot,

140

A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou “no,”

141

This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent

142

To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,

143

Thou liest.

EDMUND

In wisdom I should ask thy name,

144

But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,

145

And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,

146

[What safe and nicely I might well delay]

147

By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn.

148

Back do I toss these treasons to thy head,

149

With the hell-hated lie o’erwhelm thy heart,

150

Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,

151

This sword of mine shall give them instant way,

152

Where they shall rest forever. Trumpets, speak!

⸢He draws his sword.⸣ Alarums. Fights.

⸢Edmund falls, wounded.⸣

ALBANY

153

⸢to Edgar⸣

Save him, save him!

GONERIL

This is practice, Gloucester.

154

By th’ law of war, thou wast not bound to answer

155

An unknown opposite. Thou art not vanquished,

156

But cozened and beguiled.

ALBANY

Shut your mouth, dame,

157

Or with this paper shall I ⟨stopple⟩ it. — Hold, sir. —

158

Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil.

159

No tearing, lady. I perceive you know it.

GONERIL

160

Say if I do; the laws are mine, not thine.

161

Who can arraign me for ’t?

ALBANY

Most monstrous! O!

162

Know’st thou this paper?

⟨GONERIL⟩

Ask me not what I know.

She exits.

ALBANY

163

Go after her, she’s desperate. Govern her.

⸢A Soldier exits.⸣

EDMUND

164

⸢to Edgar⸣

What you have charged me with, that have I done,

165

And more, much more. The time will bring it out.

166

’Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou

167

That hast this fortune on me? If thou ’rt noble,

168

I do forgive thee.

EDGAR

Let’s exchange charity.

169

I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;

170

If more, the more th’ hast wronged me.

171

My name is Edgar and thy father’s son.

172

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices

173

Make instruments to plague us.

174

The dark and vicious place where thee he got

175

Cost him his eyes.

EDMUND

Th’ hast spoken right. ’Tis true.

176

The wheel is come full circle; I am here.

ALBANY

177

⸢to Edgar⸣

Methought thy very gait did prophesy

178

A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee.

179

Let sorrow split my heart if ever I

180

Did hate thee or thy father!

EDGAR

181

Worthy prince, I know ’t.

ALBANY

182

Where have you hid yourself?

183

How have you known the miseries of your father?

EDGAR

184

By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale,

185

And when ’tis told, O, that my heart would burst!

186

The bloody proclamation to escape

187

That followed me so near — O, our lives’ sweetness,

188

That we the pain of death would hourly die

189

Rather than die at once! — taught me to shift

190

Into a madman’s rags, t’ assume a semblance

191

That very dogs disdained, and in this habit

192

Met I my father with his bleeding rings,

193

Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,

194

Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair.

195

Never — O fault! — revealed myself unto him

196

Until some half hour past, when I was armed.

197

Not sure, though hoping of this good success,

198

I asked his blessing, and from first to last

199

Told him our pilgrimage. But his flawed heart

200

(Alack, too weak the conflict to support)

201

’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,

202

Burst smilingly.

EDMUND

This speech of yours hath moved me,

203

And shall perchance do good. But speak you on.

204

You look as you had something more to say.

ALBANY

205

If there be more, more woeful, hold it in,

206

For I am almost ready to dissolve,

207

Hearing of this.

⟨EDGAR

This would have seemed a period

208

To such as love not sorrow; but another,

209

To amplify too much, would make much more

210

And top extremity. Whilst I

211

Was big in clamor, came there in a man

212

Who, having seen me in my worst estate,

213

Shunned my abhorred society; but then, finding

214

Who ’twas that so endured, with his strong arms

215

He fastened on my neck and bellowed out

216

As he’d burst heaven, threw ⸢him⸣ on my father,

217

Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him

218

That ever ear received, which, in recounting,

219

His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life

220

Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded,

221

And there I left him tranced.

ALBANY

But who was this?

EDGAR

222

Kent, sir, the banished Kent, who in disguise

223

Followed his enemy king and did him service

224

Improper for a slave.⟩

Enter a Gentleman ⟨with a bloody knife.⟩

GENTLEMAN

225

Help, help, O, help!

EDGAR

226

What kind of help?

[ALBANY

227

⸢to Gentleman⸣

Speak, man!]

EDGAR

228

What means this bloody knife?

GENTLEMAN

229

’Tis hot, it smokes! It came even from the heart

230

Of — O, she’s dead!

ALBANY

231

Who dead? Speak, man.

GENTLEMAN

232

Your lady, sir, your lady. And her sister

233

By her is poisoned. She confesses it.

EDMUND

234

I was contracted to them both. All three

235

Now marry in an instant.

[EDGAR

Here comes Kent.

Enter Kent.]

ALBANY

236

⸢to the Gentleman⸣

Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead.

⸢Gentleman exits.⸣

237

This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble,

238

Touches us not with pity. O, is this he?

239

⸢To Kent.⸣

The time will not allow the compliment

240

Which very manners urges.

KENT

I am come

241

To bid my king and master aye goodnight.

242

Is he not here?

ALBANY

Great thing of us forgot!

243

Speak, Edmund, where’s the King? And where’s Cordelia?

Goneril and Regan’s bodies brought out.

244

Seest thou this object, Kent?

KENT

245

Alack, why thus?

EDMUND

246

Yet Edmund was beloved.

247

The one the other poisoned for my sake,

248

And after slew herself.

ALBANY

249

Even so. — Cover their faces.

EDMUND

250

I pant for life. Some good I mean to do

251

Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send —

252

Be brief in it — to th’ castle, for my writ

253

Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia.

254

Nay, send in time.

ALBANY

Run, run, O, run!

EDGAR

255

To who, my lord?

⸢To Edmund.⸣

Who has the office? Send

256

Thy token of reprieve.

EDMUND

257

Well thought on. Take my sword. Give it the Captain.

EDGAR

258

⸢to a Soldier⸣

Haste thee for thy life.

⸢The Soldier exits with Edmund’s sword.⸣

EDMUND

259

⸢to Albany⸣

He hath commission from thy wife and me

260

To hang Cordelia in the prison, and

261

To lay the blame upon her own despair,

262

That she fordid herself.

ALBANY

263

The gods defend her! — Bear him hence awhile.

⸢Edmund is carried off.⸣

Enter Lear with Cordelia in his arms, ⸢followed by a Gentleman.⸣

LEAR

264

Howl, howl, howl! O, ⟨you⟩ are men of stones!

265

Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so

266

That heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone forever.

267

I know when one is dead and when one lives.

268

She’s dead as earth. — Lend me a looking glass.

269

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,

270

Why, then she lives.

KENT

Is this the promised end?

EDGAR

271

Or image of that horror?

ALBANY

Fall and cease.

LEAR

272

This feather stirs. She lives. If it be so,

273

It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows

274

That ever I have felt.

KENT

O, my good master —

LEAR

275

Prithee, away.

EDGAR

’Tis noble Kent, your friend.

LEAR

276

A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!

277

I might have saved her. Now she’s gone forever. —

278

Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha!

279

What is ’t thou sayst? — Her voice was ever soft,

280

Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.

281

I killed the slave that was a-hanging thee.

GENTLEMAN

282

’Tis true, my lords, he did.

LEAR

Did I not, fellow?

283

I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion

284

I would have made him skip. I am old now,

285

And these same crosses spoil me.

⸢To Kent.⸣

Who are you?

286

Mine eyes are not o’ th’ best. I’ll tell you straight.

KENT

287

If Fortune brag of two she loved and hated,

288

One of them we behold.

LEAR

289

This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?

KENT

The same,

290

Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?

LEAR

291

He’s a good fellow, I can tell you that.

292

He’ll strike and quickly too. He’s dead and rotten.

KENT

293

No, my good lord, I am the very man —

LEAR

294

I’ll see that straight.

KENT

295

That from your first of difference and decay

296

Have followed your sad steps.

LEAR

⸢You⸣ are welcome hither.

KENT

297

Nor no man else. All’s cheerless, dark, and deadly.

298

Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves,

299

And desperately are dead.

LEAR

Ay, so I think.

ALBANY

300

He knows not what he says, and vain is it

301

That we present us to him.

EDGAR

Very bootless.

Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGER

302

Edmund is dead, my lord.

ALBANY

303

That’s but a trifle here. —

304

You lords and noble friends, know our intent:

305

What comfort to this great decay may come

306

Shall be applied. For us, we will resign,

307

During the life of this old Majesty,

308

To him our absolute power; you to your rights,

309

With boot and such addition as your Honors

310

Have more than merited. All friends shall taste

311

The wages of their virtue, and all foes

312

The cup of their deservings. O, see, see!

LEAR

313

And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life?

314

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,

315

And thou no breath at all? Thou ’lt come no more,

316

Never, never, never, never, never. —

317

Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.

318

[Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,

319

Look there, look there!

He dies.]

EDGAR

He faints.

⸢To Lear.⸣

My lord, my lord!

KENT

320

Break, heart, I prithee, break!

EDGAR

Look up, my lord.

KENT

321

Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him

322

That would upon the rack of this tough world

323

Stretch him out longer.

EDGAR

He is gone indeed.

KENT

324

The wonder is he hath endured so long.

325

He but usurped his life.

ALBANY

326

Bear them from hence. Our present business

327

Is general woe.

⸢To Edgar and Kent.⸣

Friends of my soul, you twain

328

Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain.

KENT

329

I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;

330

My master calls me. I must not say no.

EDGAR

331

The weight of this sad time we must obey,

332

Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.

333

The oldest hath borne most; we that are young

334

Shall never see so much nor live so long.

They exit with a dead march.