| #KING #LEAR |
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| DRAMATIS PERSONAE |
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| #LEAR king of Britain (#KING LEAR:) |
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| KING OF FRANCE: |
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| DUKE OF #BURGUNDY (BURGUNDY:) |
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| DUKE OF #CORNWALL (CORNWALL:) |
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| DUKE OF #ALBANY (ALBANY:) |
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| EARL OF #KENT (KENT:) |
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| EARL OF #GLOUCESTER (GLOUCESTER:) |
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| #EDGAR son to Gloucester. |
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| #EDMUND bastard son to Gloucester. |
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| #CURAN a courtier. |
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| Old Man tenant to Gloucester. |
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| #Doctor: |
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| #Fool: |
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| #OSWALD steward to Goneril. |
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| A #Captain employed by Edmund. (Captain:) |
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| #Gentleman attendant on Cordelia. (Gentleman:) |
| A Herald. |
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| Servants to Cornwall. |
| (First Servant:) |
| (Second Servant:) |
| (Third Servant:) |
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| #GONERIL | |
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| #REGAN | daughters to Lear. |
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| #CORDELIA | |
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| Knights of Lear's train, #Captains, Messengers, |
| Soldiers, and Attendants |
| (Knight:) |
| (#Captain:) |
| (Messenger:) |
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| SCENE Britain. |
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| #KING #LEAR |
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| ACT I |
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| SCENE I King Lear's palace. |
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| [Enter #KENT, #GLOUCESTER, and #EDMUND] |
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| #KENT I thought the king had more affected the Duke of |
| Albany than Cornwall. |
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| #GLOUCESTER It did always seem so to us: but now, in the |
| division of the kingdom, it appears not which of |
| the dukes he values most; for equalities are so |
| weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice |
| of either's moiety. |
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| #KENT Is not this your son, my lord? |
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| #GLOUCESTER His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have |
| so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am |
| brazed to it. |
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| #KENT I cannot conceive you. |
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| #GLOUCESTER Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon |
| she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son |
| for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. |
| Do you smell a fault? |
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| #KENT I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it |
| being so proper. |
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| #GLOUCESTER But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year |
| elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: |
| though this knave came something saucily into the |
| world before he was sent for, yet was his mother |
| fair; there was good sport at his making, and the |
| whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this |
| noble gentleman, Edmund? |
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| #EDMUND No, my lord. |
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| #GLOUCESTER My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my |
| honourable friend. |
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| #EDMUND My services to your lordship. |
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| #KENT I must love you, and sue to know you better. |
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| #EDMUND Sir, I shall study deserving. |
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| #GLOUCESTER He hath been out nine years, and away he shall |
| again. The king is coming. |
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| [Sennet. Enter #KING #LEAR, #CORNWALL, #ALBANY, |
| #GONERIL, #REGAN, #CORDELIA, and Attendants] |
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| #KING #LEAR Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. |
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| #GLOUCESTER I shall, my liege. |
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| [Exeunt #GLOUCESTER and #EDMUND] |
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| #KING #LEAR Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. |
| Give me the map there. 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 |
| Unburthen'd 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 princes, France and Burgundy, |
| Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, |
| Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, |
| And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters,-- |
| 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. |
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| #GONERIL Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; |
| Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty; |
| Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; |
| No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; |
| As much as child e'er loved, or father found; |
| A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable; |
| Beyond all manner of so much I love you. |
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| #CORDELIA [Aside] What shall Cordelia do? |
| Love, and be silent. |
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| #LEAR Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, |
| With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, |
| With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, |
| We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue |
| Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, |
| Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. |
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| #REGAN Sir, I am made |
| Of the self-same metal that my sister is, |
| 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. |
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| #CORDELIA [Aside] Then poor Cordelia! |
| And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's |
| More richer than my tongue. |
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| #KING #LEAR To thee and thine hereditary ever |
| Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom; |
| No less in space, validity, and pleasure, |
| Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy, |
| Although the last, not least; to whose young love |
| The vines of France and milk of Burgundy |
| Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw |
| A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. |
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| #CORDELIA Nothing, my lord. |
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| #KING #LEAR Nothing! |
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| #CORDELIA Nothing. |
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| #KING #LEAR Nothing will come of nothing: speak again. |
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| #CORDELIA Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave |
| My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty |
| According to my bond; nor more nor less. |
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| #KING #LEAR How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, |
| Lest it may mar your fortunes. |
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| #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 honour you. |
| Why have my sisters husbands, if they say |
| They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, |
| That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry |
| Half my love with him, half my care and duty: |
| Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, |
| To love my father all. |
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| #KING #LEAR But goes thy heart with this? |
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| #CORDELIA Ay, good my lord. |
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| #KING #LEAR So young, and so untender? |
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| #CORDELIA So young, my lord, and true. |
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| #KING #LEAR Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower: |
| For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, |
| The mysteries of Hecate, and the night; |
| By all the operation of the orbs |
| From whom we do exist, and cease to be; |
| Here I disclaim all my paternal care, |
| Propinquity and property of blood, |
| And as a stranger to my heart and me |
| Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian, |
| Or he that makes his generation messes |
| To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom |
| Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved, |
| As thou my sometime daughter. |
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| #KENT Good my liege,-- |
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| #KING #LEAR Peace, Kent! |
| Come not between the dragon and his wrath. |
| I loved her most, and thought to set my rest |
| On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight! |
| So be my grave my peace, as here I give |
| Her father's heart from her! Call France; who stirs? |
| Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany, |
| With my two daughters' dowers digest this third: |
| Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. |
| I do invest you jointly with my power, |
| Pre-eminence, and all the large effects |
| That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course, |
| With reservation of an hundred knights, |
| By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode |
| Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain |
| The name, and all the additions to a king; |
| The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, |
| Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm, |
| This coronet part betwixt you. |
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| [Giving the crown] |
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| #KENT Royal Lear, |
| Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, |
| Loved as my father, as my master follow'd, |
| As my great patron thought on in my prayers,-- |
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| #KING #LEAR The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. |
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| #KENT Let it fall rather, though the fork invade |
| The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly, |
| When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man? |
| Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak, |
| When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound, |
| When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; |
| And, in thy best consideration, cheque |
| This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment, |
| Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; |
| Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound |
| Reverbs no hollowness. |
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| #KING #LEAR Kent, on thy life, no more. |
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| #KENT My life I never held but as a pawn |
| To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it, |
| Thy safety being the motive. |
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| #KING #LEAR Out of my sight! |
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| #KENT See better, Lear; and let me still remain |
| The true blank of thine eye. |
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| #KING #LEAR Now, by Apollo,-- |
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| #KENT Now, by Apollo, king, |
| Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. |
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| #KING #LEAR O, vassal! miscreant! |
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| [Laying his hand on his sword] |
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| #ALBANY | |
| | Dear sir, forbear. |
| #CORNWALL | |
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| #KENT Do: |
| Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow |
| Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom; |
| Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, |
| I'll tell thee thou dost evil. |
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| #KING #LEAR Hear me, recreant! |
| On thine allegiance, hear me! |
| Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, |
| Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride |
| To come between our sentence and our power, |
| Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, |
| Our potency made good, take thy reward. |
| Five days we do allot thee, for provision |
| To shield thee from diseases of the world; |
| And on the sixth to turn thy hated back |
| Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following, |
| Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, |
| The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter, |
| This shall not be revoked. |
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| #KENT Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, |
| Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. |
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| [To #CORDELIA] |
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| The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, |
| That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said! |
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| [To #REGAN and #GONERIL] |
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| And your large speeches may your deeds approve, |
| That good effects may spring from words of love. |
| Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu; |
| He'll shape his old course in a country new. |
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| [Exit] |
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| [Flourish. Re-enter #GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE, |
| #BURGUNDY, and Attendants] |
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| #GLOUCESTER Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. |
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| #KING #LEAR My lord of Burgundy. |
| We first address towards you, who with this king |
| Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least, |
| Will you require in present dower with her, |
| Or cease your quest of love? |
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| #BURGUNDY Most royal majesty, |
| I crave no more than what your highness offer'd, |
| Nor will you tender less. |
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| #KING #LEAR Right noble Burgundy, |
| When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; |
| But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands: |
| If aught within that little seeming substance, |
| Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced, |
| And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, |
| She's there, and she is yours. |
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| #BURGUNDY I know no answer. |
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| #KING #LEAR Will you, with those infirmities she owes, |
| Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, |
| Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, |
| Take her, or leave her? |
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| #BURGUNDY Pardon me, royal sir; |
| Election makes not up on such conditions. |
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| #KING #LEAR Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me, |
| I tell you all her wealth. |
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| [To KING OF FRANCE] |
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| For you, great king, |
| I would not from your love make such a stray, |
| To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you |
| To avert your liking a more worthier way |
| Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed |
| Almost to acknowledge hers. |
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| KING OF FRANCE This is most strange, |
| That she, that even but now was your best object, |
| The argument of your praise, balm of your age, |
| Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time |
| Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle |
| So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence |
| Must be of such unnatural degree, |
| That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection |
| Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her, |
| Must be a faith that reason without miracle |
| Could never plant in me. |
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| #CORDELIA I yet beseech your majesty,-- |
| If for I want that glib and oily art, |
| To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, |
| I'll do't before I speak,--that you make known |
| It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, |
| No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step, |
| That hath deprived me of your grace and favour; |
| But even for want of that for which I am richer, |
| A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue |
| As I am glad I have not, though not to have it |
| Hath lost me in your liking. |
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| #KING #LEAR Better thou |
| Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better. |
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| KING OF FRANCE Is it but this,--a tardiness in nature |
| Which often leaves the history unspoke |
| That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy, |
| What say you to the lady? Love's not love |
| When it is mingled with regards that stand |
| Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? |
| She is herself a dowry. |
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| #BURGUNDY Royal Lear, |
| Give but that portion which yourself proposed, |
| And here I take Cordelia by the hand, |
| Duchess of Burgundy. |
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| #KING #LEAR Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm. |
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| #BURGUNDY I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father |
| That you must lose a husband. |
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| #CORDELIA Peace be with Burgundy! |
| Since that respects of fortune are his love, |
| I shall not be his wife. |
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| KING OF FRANCE Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; |
| Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised! |
| Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon: |
| Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. |
| Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect |
| My love should kindle to inflamed respect. |
| Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, |
| Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France: |
| Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy |
| Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. |
| Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind: |
| Thou losest here, a better where to find. |
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| #KING #LEAR Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we |
| Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see |
| That face of hers again. Therefore be gone |
| Without our grace, our love, our benison. |
| Come, noble Burgundy. |
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| [Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, #GONERIL, |
| #REGAN, and #CORDELIA] |
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| KING OF FRANCE Bid farewell to your sisters. |
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| #CORDELIA The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes |
| Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are; |
| And like a sister am most loath to call |
| Your faults as they are named. Use well our father: |
| To your professed bosoms I commit him |
| But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, |
| I would prefer him to a better place. |
| So, farewell to you both. |
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| #REGAN Prescribe not us our duties. |
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| #GONERIL Let your study |
| Be to content your lord, who hath received you |
| At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, |
| And well are worth the want that you have wanted. |
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| #CORDELIA Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: |
| Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. |
| Well may you prosper! |
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| KING OF FRANCE Come, my fair Cordelia. |
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| [Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and #CORDELIA] |
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| #GONERIL Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what |
| most nearly appertains to us both. I think our |
| father will hence to-night. |
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| #REGAN That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. |
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| #GONERIL You see how full of changes his age is; the |
| observation we have made of it hath not been |
| little: he always loved our sister most; and |
| with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off |
| appears too grossly. |
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| #REGAN 'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever |
| but slenderly known himself. |
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| #GONERIL The best and soundest of his time hath been but |
| rash; then must we look to receive from his age, |
| not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed |
| condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness |
| that infirm and choleric years bring with them. |
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| #REGAN Such unconstant starts are we like to have from |
| him as this of Kent's banishment. |
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| #GONERIL There is further compliment of leavetaking |
| between France and him. Pray you, let's hit |
| together: if our father carry authority with |
| such dispositions as he bears, this last |
| surrender of his will but offend us. |
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| #REGAN We shall further think on't. |
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| #GONERIL We must do something, and i' the heat. |
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| [Exeunt] |
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| #KING #LEAR |
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| ACT I |
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| SCENE II The Earl of Gloucester's castle. |
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| [Enter #EDMUND, with a letter] |
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| #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 moon-shines |
| 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 the 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 the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate! |
| Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, |
| And my invention thrive, Edmund the base |
| Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper: |
| Now, gods, stand up for bastards! |
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| [Enter #GLOUCESTER] |
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| #GLOUCESTER Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted! |
| And the king gone to-night! subscribed his power! |
| Confined to exhibition! All this done |
| Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! what news? |
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| #EDMUND So please your lordship, none. |
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| [Putting up the letter] |
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| #GLOUCESTER Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? |
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| #EDMUND I know no news, my lord. |
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| #GLOUCESTER What paper were you reading? |
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| #EDMUND Nothing, my lord. |
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| #GLOUCESTER No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of |
| it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath |
| not such need to hide itself. Let's see: come, |
| if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. |
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| #EDMUND I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter |
| from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read; |
| and for so much as I have perused, I find it not |
| fit for your o'er-looking. |
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| #GLOUCESTER Give me the letter, sir. |
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| #EDMUND I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The |
| contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. |
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| #GLOUCESTER Let's see, let's see. |
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| #EDMUND I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote |
| this but as an essay or taste of my virtue. |
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| #GLOUCESTER [Reads] 'This policy and reverence of age makes |
| the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps |
| our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish |
| them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage |
| in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not |
| as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to |
| me, that of this I may speak more. If our father |
| would sleep till I waked him, you should half his |
| revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your |
| brother, #EDGAR.' |
| |
| Hum--conspiracy!--'Sleep till I waked him,--you |
| should enjoy half his revenue,'--My son Edgar! |
| Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain |
| to breed it in?--When came this to you? who |
| brought it? |
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| #EDMUND It was not brought me, my lord; there's the |
| cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the |
| casement of my closet. |
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| #GLOUCESTER You know the character to be your brother's? |
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| #EDMUND If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear |
| it were his; but, in respect of that, I would |
| fain think it were not. |
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| #GLOUCESTER It is his. |
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| #EDMUND It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is |
| not in the contents. |
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| #GLOUCESTER Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business? |
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| #EDMUND Never, my lord: but I have heard him oft |
| maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, |
| and fathers declining, the father should be as |
| ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. |
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| #GLOUCESTER O villain, villain! His very opinion in the |
| letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, |
| brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah, |
| seek him; I'll apprehend him: abominable villain! |
| Where is he? |
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| #EDMUND I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please |
| you to suspend your indignation against my |
| brother till you can derive from him better |
| testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain |
| course; where, if you violently proceed against |
| him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great |
| gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the |
| heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life |
| for him, that he hath wrote this to feel my |
| affection to your honour, and to no further |
| pretence of danger. |
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| #GLOUCESTER Think you so? |
| |
| #EDMUND If your honour judge it meet, I will place you |
| where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an |
| auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and |
| that without any further delay than this very evening. |
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| #GLOUCESTER He cannot be such a monster-- |
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| #EDMUND Nor is not, sure. |
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| #GLOUCESTER To his father, that so tenderly and entirely |
| loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him |
| out: wind me into him, I pray you: frame the |
| business after your own wisdom. I would unstate |
| myself, to be in a due resolution. |
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| #EDMUND I will seek him, sir, presently: convey the |
| business as I shall find means and acquaint you withal. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend |
| no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can |
| reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself |
| scourged by the sequent effects: love cools, |
| friendship falls off, brothers divide: in |
| cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in |
| palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son |
| and father. This villain of mine comes under the |
| prediction; there's son against father: the king |
| falls from bias of nature; there's father against |
| child. We have seen the best of our time: |
| machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all |
| ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our |
| graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall |
| lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the |
| noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his |
| offence, honesty! 'Tis strange. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #EDMUND This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, |
| when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit |
| of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our |
| disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as |
| if we were villains by necessity; fools by |
| heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and |
| treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, |
| liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of |
| planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, |
| by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion |
| of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish |
| disposition to the charge of a star! My |
| father compounded with my mother under the |
| dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa |
| major; so that it follows, I am rough and |
| lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, |
| had the maidenliest star in the firmament |
| twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar-- |
| |
| [Enter #EDGAR] |
| |
| And pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old |
| comedy: my cue is villanous melancholy, with a |
| sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. O, these eclipses do |
| portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi. |
| |
| #EDGAR How now, brother Edmund! what serious |
| contemplation are you in? |
| |
| #EDMUND I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read |
| this other day, what should follow these eclipses. |
| |
| #EDGAR Do you busy yourself about that? |
| |
| #EDMUND I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed |
| unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child |
| and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of |
| ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and |
| maledictions against king and nobles; needless |
| diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation |
| of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what. |
| |
| #EDGAR How long have you been a sectary astronomical? |
| |
| #EDMUND Come, come; when saw you my father last? |
| |
| #EDGAR Why, the night gone by. |
| |
| #EDMUND Spake you with him? |
| |
| #EDGAR Ay, two hours together. |
| |
| #EDMUND Parted you in good terms? Found you no |
| displeasure in him by word or countenance? |
| |
| #EDGAR None at all. |
| |
| #EDMUND Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended |
| him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence |
| till some little time hath qualified the heat of |
| his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth |
| in him, that with the mischief of your person it |
| would scarcely allay. |
| |
| #EDGAR Some villain hath done me wrong. |
| |
| #EDMUND That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent |
| forbearance till the spied of his rage goes |
| slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my |
| lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to |
| hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there's my key: |
| if you do stir abroad, go armed. |
| |
| #EDGAR Armed, brother! |
| |
| #EDMUND Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed: I |
| am no honest man if there be any good meaning |
| towards you: I have told you what I have seen |
| and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image |
| and horror of it: pray you, away. |
| |
| #EDGAR Shall I hear from you anon? |
| |
| #EDMUND I do serve you in this business. |
| |
| [Exit #EDGAR] |
| |
| A credulous father! and a brother noble, |
| Whose nature is so far from doing harms, |
| That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty |
| My practises ride easy! I see the business. |
| Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit: |
| All with me's meet that I can fashion fit. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT I |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE III The Duke of Albany's palace. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #GONERIL, and #OSWALD, her steward] |
| |
| #GONERIL Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? |
| |
| #OSWALD Yes, 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. |
| |
| [Horns within] |
| |
| #GONERIL Put on what weary negligence you please, |
| You and your fellows; I'll have it come to question: |
| If he dislike it, let him to our sister, |
| Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, |
| Not to be over-ruled. 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 cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused. |
| Remember what I tell you. |
| |
| #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. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT I |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE IV A hall in the same. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #KENT, disguised] |
| |
| #KENT If but as well I other accents borrow, |
| That can my speech defuse, my good intent |
| May carry through itself to that full issue |
| For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent, |
| If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, |
| So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest, |
| Shall find thee full of labours. |
| |
| [Horns within. Enter #KING #LEAR, Knights, and |
| Attendants] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. |
| |
| [Exit an Attendant] |
| |
| How now! what art thou? |
| |
| #KENT A man, sir. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with us? |
| |
| #KENT I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve |
| him truly that will put me in trust: to love him |
| that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, |
| and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I |
| cannot choose; and to eat no fish. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What art thou? |
| |
| #KENT A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a |
| king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou? |
| |
| #KENT Service. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Who wouldst thou serve? |
| |
| #KENT You. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Dost thou know me, fellow? |
| |
| #KENT No, sir; but you have that in your countenance |
| which I would fain call master. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What's that? |
| |
| #KENT Authority. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What services canst thou do? |
| |
| #KENT I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious |
| tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message |
| bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am |
| qualified in; and the best of me is diligence. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR How old art thou? |
| |
| #KENT Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor |
| so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years |
| on my back forty eight. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no |
| worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. |
| Dinner, ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool? |
| Go you, and call my fool hither. |
| |
| [Exit an Attendant] |
| |
| [Enter #OSWALD] |
| |
| You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? |
| |
| #OSWALD So please you,-- |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back. |
| |
| [Exit a Knight] |
| |
| Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep. |
| |
| [Re-enter Knight] |
| |
| How now! where's that mongrel? |
| |
| Knight He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Why came not the slave back to me when I called him. |
| |
| Knight Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would |
| not. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR He would not! |
| |
| Knight My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my |
| judgment, your highness is not entertained with that |
| ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a |
| great abatement of kindness appears as well in the |
| general dependants as in the duke himself also and |
| your daughter. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ha! sayest thou so? |
| |
| Knight I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; |
| for my duty cannot be silent when I think your |
| highness wronged. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I |
| have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I |
| have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity |
| than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness: |
| I will look further into't. But where's my fool? I |
| have not seen him this two days. |
| |
| Knight Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the |
| fool hath much pined away. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and |
| tell my daughter I would speak with her. |
| |
| [Exit an Attendant] |
| |
| Go you, call hither my fool. |
| |
| [Exit an Attendant] |
| |
| [Re-enter #OSWALD] |
| |
| O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I, |
| sir? |
| |
| #OSWALD My lady's father. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR 'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your |
| whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! |
| |
| #OSWALD I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? |
| |
| [Striking him] |
| |
| #OSWALD I'll not be struck, my lord. |
| |
| #KENT Nor tripped neither, you base football player. |
| |
| [Tripping up his heels] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll |
| love thee. |
| |
| #KENT Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences: |
| away, away! if you will measure your lubber's |
| length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you |
| wisdom? so. |
| |
| [Pushes #OSWALD out] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's |
| earnest of thy service. |
| |
| [Giving #KENT money] |
| |
| [Enter #Fool] |
| |
| #Fool Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb. |
| |
| [Offering #KENT his cap] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou? |
| |
| #Fool Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. |
| |
| #KENT Why, fool? |
| |
| #Fool Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour: |
| nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, |
| thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb: |
| why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters, |
| and did the third a blessing against his will; if |
| thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. |
| How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Why, my boy? |
| |
| #Fool If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs |
| myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Take heed, sirrah; the whip. |
| |
| #Fool Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped |
| out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR A pestilent gall to me! |
| |
| #Fool Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Do. |
| |
| #Fool Mark it, nuncle: |
| Have more than thou showest, |
| Speak less than thou knowest, |
| Lend less than thou owest, |
| Ride more than thou goest, |
| Learn more than thou trowest, |
| Set less than thou throwest; |
| Leave thy drink and thy whore, |
| And keep in-a-door, |
| And thou shalt have more |
| Than two tens to a score. |
| |
| #KENT This is nothing, fool. |
| |
| #Fool Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you |
| gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of |
| nothing, nuncle? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. |
| |
| #Fool [To #KENT] Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of |
| his land comes to: he will not believe a fool. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR A bitter fool! |
| |
| #Fool Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a |
| bitter fool and a sweet fool? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No, lad; teach me. |
| |
| #Fool That lord that counsell'd thee |
| To give away thy land, |
| Come place him here by me, |
| Do thou for him stand: |
| The sweet and bitter fool |
| Will presently appear; |
| The one in motley here, |
| The other found out there. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Dost thou call me fool, boy? |
| |
| #Fool All thy other titles thou hast given away; that |
| thou wast born with. |
| |
| #KENT This is not altogether fool, my lord. |
| |
| #Fool No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if |
| I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't: |
| and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool |
| to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg, |
| nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What two crowns shall they be? |
| |
| #Fool Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat |
| up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou |
| clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away |
| both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o'er |
| the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, |
| when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak |
| like myself in this, let him be whipped that first |
| finds it so. |
| |
| [Singing] |
| |
| #Fools had ne'er less wit in a year; |
| For wise men are grown foppish, |
| They know not how their wits to wear, |
| Their manners are so apish. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? |
| |
| #Fool I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy |
| daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them |
| the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches, |
| |
| [Singing] |
| |
| Then they for sudden joy did weep, |
| And I for sorrow sung, |
| That such a king should play bo-peep, |
| And go the fools among. |
| |
| Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach |
| thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. |
| |
| #Fool I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are: |
| they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt |
| have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am |
| whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any |
| kind o' thing than a fool: and yet I would not be |
| thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, |
| and left nothing i' the middle: here comes one o' |
| the parings. |
| |
| [Enter #GONERIL] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on? |
| Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. |
| |
| #Fool Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to |
| care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a |
| figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool, |
| thou art nothing. |
| |
| [To #GONERIL] |
| |
| Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face |
| bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, |
| He that keeps nor crust nor crum, |
| Weary of all, shall want some. |
| |
| [Pointing to #KING #LEAR] |
| |
| That's a shealed peascod. |
| |
| #GONERIL Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool, |
| But other of your insolent retinue |
| Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth |
| In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir, |
| I had thought, by making this well known unto you, |
| To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful, |
| By what yourself too late have spoke and done. |
| That you protect this course, and put it on |
| By your allowance; which if you should, the fault |
| Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, |
| Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal, |
| Might in their working do you that offence, |
| Which else were shame, that then necessity |
| Will call discreet proceeding. |
| |
| #Fool For, you trow, nuncle, |
| The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, |
| That it's had it head bit off by it young. |
| So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Are you our daughter? |
| |
| #GONERIL Come, sir, |
| I would you would make use of that good wisdom, |
| Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away |
| These dispositions, that of late transform you |
| From what you rightly are. |
| |
| #Fool May not an ass know when the cart |
| draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Doth any here know me? This is not Lear: |
| Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? |
| Either his notion weakens, his discernings |
| Are lethargied--Ha! waking? 'tis not so. |
| Who is it that can tell me who I am? |
| |
| #Fool Lear's shadow. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I would learn that; for, by the |
| marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, |
| I should be false persuaded I had daughters. |
| |
| #Fool Which they will make an obedient father. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Your name, fair gentlewoman? |
| |
| #GONERIL This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour |
| Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you |
| To understand my purposes aright: |
| As you are old and reverend, you should be wise. |
| Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires; |
| Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold, |
| That this our court, infected with their manners, |
| Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust |
| Make it more like a tavern or a brothel |
| Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak |
| For instant remedy: be then desired |
| By her, that else will take the thing she begs, |
| A little to disquantity your train; |
| And the remainder, that shall still depend, |
| To be such men as may besort your age, |
| And know themselves and you. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Darkness and devils! |
| Saddle my horses; call my train together: |
| Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee. |
| Yet have I left a daughter. |
| |
| #GONERIL You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble |
| Make servants of their betters. |
| |
| [Enter #ALBANY] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Woe, that too late repents,-- |
| |
| [To #ALBANY] |
| |
| O, sir, are you come? |
| Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses. |
| Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, |
| More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child |
| Than the sea-monster! |
| |
| #ALBANY Pray, sir, be patient. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR [To #GONERIL] Detested kite! thou liest. |
| My train are men of choice and rarest parts, |
| That all particulars of duty know, |
| And in the most exact regard support |
| The worships of their name. O most small fault, |
| How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! |
| That, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature |
| From the fix'd place; drew from heart all love, |
| And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear! |
| Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, |
| |
| [Striking his head] |
| |
| And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people. |
| |
| #ALBANY My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant |
| Of what hath moved you. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR It may be so, my lord. |
| Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! |
| Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend |
| To make this creature fruitful! |
| Into her womb convey sterility! |
| Dry up in her the organs of increase; |
| And from her derogate body never spring |
| A babe to honour her! If she must teem, |
| Create her child of spleen; that it may live, |
| And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! |
| Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; |
| With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; |
| Turn all her mother's pains and benefits |
| To laughter and contempt; that she may feel |
| How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is |
| To have a thankless child! Away, away! |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #ALBANY Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? |
| |
| #GONERIL Never afflict yourself to know the cause; |
| But let his disposition have that scope |
| That dotage gives it. |
| |
| [Re-enter #KING #LEAR] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What, fifty of my followers at a clap! |
| Within a fortnight! |
| |
| #ALBANY What's the matter, sir? |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I'll tell thee: |
| |
| [To #GONERIL] |
| |
| Life and death! I am ashamed |
| That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus; |
| That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, |
| Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! |
| The untented woundings of a father's curse |
| Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes, |
| Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out, |
| And cast you, with the waters that you lose, |
| To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this? |
| Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter, |
| Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable: |
| When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails |
| She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find |
| That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think |
| I have cast off for ever: thou shalt, |
| I warrant thee. |
| |
| [Exeunt #KING #LEAR, #KENT, and Attendants] |
| |
| #GONERIL Do you mark that, my lord? |
| |
| #ALBANY I cannot be so partial, Goneril, |
| To the great love I bear you,-- |
| |
| #GONERIL Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho! |
| |
| [To the #Fool] |
| |
| You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master. |
| |
| #Fool Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool |
| with thee. |
| A fox, when one has caught her, |
| And such a daughter, |
| Should sure to the slaughter, |
| If my cap would buy a halter: |
| So the fool follows after. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #GONERIL This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights! |
| 'Tis politic and safe to let him keep |
| At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream, |
| Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, |
| He may enguard his dotage with their powers, |
| And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say! |
| |
| #ALBANY Well, you may fear too far. |
| |
| #GONERIL Safer than trust too far: |
| Let me still take away the harms I fear, |
| Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart. |
| What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister |
| If she sustain him and his hundred knights |
| When I have show'd the unfitness,-- |
| |
| [Re-enter #OSWALD] |
| |
| How now, Oswald! |
| What, have you writ that letter to my sister? |
| |
| #OSWALD Yes, madam. |
| |
| #GONERIL Take you some company, and away to horse: |
| Inform her full of my particular fear; |
| And thereto add such reasons of your own |
| As may compact it more. Get you gone; |
| And hasten your return. |
| |
| [Exit #OSWALD] |
| |
| No, no, my lord, |
| This milky gentleness and course of yours |
| Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, |
| You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom |
| Than praised for harmful mildness. |
| |
| #ALBANY How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell: |
| Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. |
| |
| #GONERIL Nay, then-- |
| |
| #ALBANY Well, well; the event. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT I |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE V Court before the same. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #KING #LEAR, #KENT, and #Fool] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. |
| Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you |
| know than comes from her demand out of the letter. |
| If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you. |
| |
| #KENT I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered |
| your letter. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #Fool If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in |
| danger of kibes? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ay, boy. |
| |
| #Fool Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go |
| slip-shod. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ha, ha, ha! |
| |
| #Fool Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; |
| for though she's as like this as a crab's like an |
| apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Why, what canst thou tell, my boy? |
| |
| #Fool She will taste as like this as a crab does to a |
| crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' |
| the middle on's face? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No. |
| |
| #Fool Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that |
| what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I did her wrong-- |
| |
| #Fool Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No. |
| |
| #Fool Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Why? |
| |
| #Fool Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his |
| daughters, and leave his horns without a case. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I will forget my nature. So kind a father! Be my |
| horses ready? |
| |
| #Fool Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the |
| seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Because they are not eight? |
| |
| #Fool Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude! |
| |
| #Fool If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten |
| for being old before thy time. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR How's that? |
| |
| #Fool Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst |
| been wise. |
| |
| #KING #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 Ready, my lord. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Come, boy. |
| |
| #Fool She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure, |
| Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT II |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE I #GLOUCESTER's castle. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #EDMUND, and #CURAN meets him] |
| |
| #EDMUND Save thee, Curan. |
| |
| #CURAN And you, sir. I have been with your father, and |
| given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan |
| his duchess will be here with him this night. |
| |
| #EDMUND How comes that? |
| |
| #CURAN Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad; |
| I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but |
| ear-kissing arguments? |
| |
| #EDMUND Not I pray you, what are they? |
| |
| #CURAN Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt the |
| Dukes of Cornwall and Albany? |
| |
| #EDMUND Not a word. |
| |
| #CURAN You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #EDMUND The duke be here to-night? The better! best! |
| This weaves itself perforce into my business. |
| My father hath set guard to take my brother; |
| And I have one thing, of a 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' the night, i' the 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. |
| Yield: come before my father. Light, ho, here! |
| Fly, brother. Torches, torches! So, farewell. |
| |
| [Exit #EDGAR] |
| |
| Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion. |
| |
| [Wounds his arm] |
| |
| Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunkards |
| Do more than this in sport. Father, father! |
| Stop, stop! No help? |
| |
| [Enter #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. |
| |
| [Exeunt some Servants] |
| |
| 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 their thunders bend; |
| Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond |
| The child was bound to the father; sir, in fine, |
| Seeing how loathly opposite I stood |
| To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, |
| With his prepared sword, he charges home |
| My unprovided body, lanced mine arm: |
| But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits, |
| Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to the encounter, |
| Or whether gasted 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 to-night: |
| 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 threaten'd 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 faith'd? No: what I should deny,-- |
| As this I would: ay, though thou didst produce |
| My very character,--I'ld turn it all |
| To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise: |
| 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 Strong and fasten'd villain |
| Would he deny his letter? 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 the 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 the offender. How dost, my lord? |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd! |
| |
| #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 tend 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, |
| To have the expense and waste of his revenues. |
| I have this present evening from my sister |
| Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions, |
| That if they come to sojourn at my house, |
| I'll not be there. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Nor I, assure thee, Regan. |
| Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father |
| A child-like office. |
| |
| #EDMUND 'Twas my duty, sir. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER He did bewray his practise; and received |
| This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Is he pursued? |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord. |
| |
| #CORNWALL If he be taken, he shall never more |
| Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose, |
| How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund, |
| Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant |
| So much commend itself, you shall be ours: |
| Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; |
| You we first seize on. |
| |
| #EDMUND I shall serve you, sir, |
| Truly, however else. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER For him I thank your grace. |
| |
| #CORNWALL You know not why we came to visit you,-- |
| |
| #REGAN Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night: |
| Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, |
| Wherein we must have use of your advice: |
| Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, |
| Of differences, which I least thought it fit |
| To answer from our home; the several messengers |
| From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, |
| Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow |
| Your needful counsel to our business, |
| Which craves the instant use. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER I serve you, madam: |
| Your graces are right welcome. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT II |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE II Before Gloucester's castle. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #KENT and #OSWALD, severally] |
| |
| #OSWALD Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house? |
| |
| #KENT Ay. |
| |
| #OSWALD Where may we set our horses? |
| |
| #KENT I' the mire. |
| |
| #OSWALD Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me. |
| |
| #KENT I love thee not. |
| |
| #OSWALD Why, then, I care not for thee. |
| |
| #KENT If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee |
| care for me. |
| |
| #OSWALD Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. |
| |
| #KENT Fellow, I know thee. |
| |
| #OSWALD What dost thou know me for? |
| |
| #KENT A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a |
| base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, |
| hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a |
| lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson, |
| glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; |
| one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a |
| bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but |
| the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, |
| and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I |
| will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest |
| the least syllable of thy addition. |
| |
| #OSWALD Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail |
| on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee! |
| |
| #KENT What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou |
| knowest me! Is it two days ago since I tripped up |
| thy heels, and beat thee before the king? Draw, you |
| rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon |
| shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you: |
| draw, you whoreson cullionly barber-monger, draw. |
| |
| [Drawing his sword] |
| |
| #OSWALD Away! I have nothing to do with thee. |
| |
| #KENT Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the |
| king; and take vanity the puppet's part against the |
| royalty of her father: draw, you rogue, or I'll so |
| carbonado your shanks: draw, you rascal; come your ways. |
| |
| #OSWALD Help, ho! murder! help! |
| |
| #KENT Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat |
| slave, strike. |
| |
| [Beating him] |
| |
| #OSWALD Help, ho! murder! murder! |
| |
| [Enter #EDMUND, with his rapier drawn, #CORNWALL, |
| #REGAN, #GLOUCESTER, and Servants] |
| |
| #EDMUND How now! What's the matter? |
| |
| #KENT With you, goodman boy, an you please: come, I'll |
| flesh ye; come on, young master. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Weapons! arms! What 's the matter here? |
| |
| #CORNWALL Keep peace, upon your lives: |
| He dies that strikes again. What is the matter? |
| |
| #REGAN The messengers from our sister and the king. |
| |
| #CORNWALL What is your difference? speak. |
| |
| #OSWALD I am scarce in breath, my lord. |
| |
| #KENT No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You |
| cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee: a |
| tailor made thee. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man? |
| |
| #KENT Ay, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter or painter could |
| not have made him so ill, though he had been but two |
| hours at the trade. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? |
| |
| #OSWALD This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared |
| at suit of his gray beard,-- |
| |
| #KENT Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My |
| lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this |
| unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of |
| a jakes with him. Spare my gray beard, you wagtail? |
| |
| #CORNWALL Peace, sirrah! |
| You beastly knave, know you no reverence? |
| |
| #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 a-twain |
| Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion |
| That in the natures of their lords rebel; |
| Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; |
| Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks |
| With every gale and vary of their masters, |
| Knowing nought, 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'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Why, 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 a knave? What's his offence? |
| |
| #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 |
| Quite from his nature: he cannot flatter, he, |
| An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth! |
| An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. |
| These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness |
| Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends |
| Than twenty silly ducking observants |
| That stretch their duties nicely. |
| |
| #KENT Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, |
| Under the allowance of your great aspect, |
| Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire |
| On flickering Phoebus' front,-- |
| |
| #CORNWALL What mean'st by this? |
| |
| #KENT To go out of my dialect, which you |
| discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no |
| flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain |
| accent was a plain knave; which for my part |
| I will not be, though I should win your displeasure |
| to entreat me to 't. |
| |
| #CORNWALL What was the offence you gave him? |
| |
| #OSWALD I never gave him any: |
| It pleased the king his master very late |
| To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; |
| When he, conjunct and flattering his displeasure, |
| Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd, |
| And put upon him such a deal of man, |
| That worthied him, got praises of the king |
| For him attempting who was self-subdued; |
| And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, |
| Drew on me here again. |
| |
| #KENT None of these rogues and cowards |
| But Ajax is their fool. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Fetch forth the stocks! |
| You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, |
| We'll teach you-- |
| |
| #KENT Sir, I am too old to learn: |
| Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king; |
| On whose employment I was sent to you: |
| You shall do small respect, show too bold malice |
| Against the grace and person of my master, |
| Stocking his messenger. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour, |
| There shall he sit till noon. |
| |
| #REGAN Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too. |
| |
| #KENT Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, |
| You should not use me so. |
| |
| #REGAN Sir, being his knave, I will. |
| |
| #CORNWALL This is a fellow of the self-same colour |
| Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks! |
| |
| [Stocks brought out] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Let me beseech your grace not to do so: |
| His fault is much, and the good king his master |
| Will cheque him for 't: your purposed low correction |
| Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches |
| For pilferings and most common trespasses |
| Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill, |
| That he's so slightly valued in his messenger, |
| Should have him thus restrain'd. |
| |
| #CORNWALL I'll answer that. |
| |
| #REGAN My sister may receive it much more worse, |
| To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, |
| For following her affairs. Put in his legs. |
| |
| [#KENT is put in the stocks] |
| |
| Come, my good lord, away. |
| |
| [Exeunt all but #GLOUCESTER and #KENT] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure, |
| Whose disposition, all the world well knows, |
| Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd: I'll entreat for thee. |
| |
| #KENT Pray, do not, sir: I have watched and travell'd hard; |
| Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. |
| A good man's fortune may grow out at heels: |
| Give you good morrow! |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #KENT Good king, that must approve the common saw, |
| Thou out of heaven's benediction comest |
| To the warm sun! |
| Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, |
| That by thy comfortable beams I may |
| Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles |
| But misery: I know 'tis from Cordelia, |
| Who hath most fortunately been inform'd |
| Of my obscured course; and shall find time |
| From this enormous state, seeking to give |
| Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatch'd, |
| Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold |
| This shameful lodging. |
| Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel! |
| |
| [Sleeps] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT II |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE III A wood. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #EDGAR] |
| |
| #EDGAR I heard myself proclaim'd; |
| 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 hair in knots; |
| And with presented nakedness out-face |
| The winds and persecutions of the sky. |
| The country gives me proof and precedent |
| Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, |
| Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms |
| Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary; |
| And with this horrible object, from low farms, |
| Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills, |
| Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, |
| Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom! |
| That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT II |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE IV Before #GLOUCESTER's castle. #KENT in the stocks. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #KING #LEAR, #Fool, and #Gentleman] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home, |
| And not send back my messenger. |
| |
| #Gentleman As I learn'd, |
| The night before there was no purpose in them |
| Of this remove. |
| |
| #KENT Hail to thee, noble master! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ha! |
| Makest thou this shame thy pastime? |
| |
| #KENT No, my lord. |
| |
| #Fool Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied |
| by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by |
| the loins, and men by the legs: when a man's |
| over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden |
| nether-stocks. |
| |
| #KING #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. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No. |
| |
| #KENT Yes. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No, I say. |
| |
| #KENT I say, yea. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No, no, they would not. |
| |
| #KENT Yes, they have. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR By Jupiter, I swear, no. |
| |
| #KENT By Juno, I swear, ay. |
| |
| #KING #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 mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage, |
| Coming from us. |
| |
| #KENT My lord, when at their home |
| I did commend your highness' letters to them, |
| Ere I was risen from the place that show'd |
| My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, |
| Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth |
| From Goneril his mistress salutations; |
| Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, |
| Which presently they read: on whose contents, |
| They summon'd 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 poison'd mine,-- |
| Being the very fellow that of late |
| Display'd so saucily against your highness,-- |
| Having more man than wit about me, drew: |
| He raised the house with loud and coward cries. |
| Your son and daughter found this trespass worth |
| The shame which here it suffers. |
| |
| #Fool Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way. |
| Fathers that wear rags |
| Do make their children blind; |
| But fathers that bear bags |
| Shall see their children kind. |
| Fortune, that arrant whore, |
| Ne'er turns the key to the poor. |
| But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours |
| for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year. |
| |
| #KING #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. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Follow me not; |
| Stay here. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #Gentleman Made you no more offence but what you speak of? |
| |
| #KENT None. |
| How chance the king comes with so small a train? |
| |
| #Fool And thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that |
| question, thou hadst well deserved it. |
| |
| #KENT Why, fool? |
| |
| #Fool We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee |
| there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow |
| their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and |
| there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him |
| that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel |
| runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with |
| following it: but the great one that goes up the |
| hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man |
| gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I |
| would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it. |
| That sir which serves and seeks for gain, |
| And follows but for form, |
| Will pack when it begins to rain, |
| And leave thee in the storm, |
| But I will tarry; the fool will stay, |
| And let the wise man fly: |
| The knave turns fool that runs away; |
| The fool no knave, perdy. |
| |
| #KENT Where learned you this, fool? |
| |
| #Fool Not i' the stocks, fool. |
| |
| [Re-enter #KING #LEAR with #GLOUCESTER] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary? |
| They have travell'd 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 unremoveable and fix'd he is |
| In his own course. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! |
| Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, |
| I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man? |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father |
| Would with his daughter speak, commands her service: |
| Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood! |
| Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that-- |
| No, but not yet: may be he is not well: |
| Infirmity doth still neglect all office |
| Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves |
| When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind |
| To suffer with the body: I'll forbear; |
| And am fall'n out with my more headier will, |
| To take the indisposed and sickly fit |
| For the sound man. Death on my state! wherefore |
| |
| [Looking on #KENT] |
| |
| Should he sit here? This act persuades me |
| That this remotion of the duke and her |
| Is practise only. Give me my servant forth. |
| Go tell the duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them, |
| Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me, |
| Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum |
| Till it cry sleep to death. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER I would have all well betwixt you. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR O me, my heart, my rising heart! but, down! |
| |
| #Fool Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels |
| when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapped 'em |
| o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried 'Down, |
| wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that, in pure |
| kindness to his horse, buttered his hay. |
| |
| [Enter #CORNWALL, #REGAN, #GLOUCESTER, and Servants] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Good morrow to you both. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Hail to your grace! |
| |
| [#KENT is set at liberty] |
| |
| #REGAN I am glad to see your highness. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Regan, I think you are; I know what reason |
| I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, |
| I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, |
| Sepulchring an adultress. |
| |
| [To #KENT] |
| |
| O, are you free? |
| Some other time for that. Beloved Regan, |
| Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied |
| Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here: |
| |
| [Points to his heart] |
| |
| I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe |
| With how depraved a quality--O Regan! |
| |
| #REGAN I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope. |
| You less know how to value her desert |
| Than she to scant her duty. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Say, how is that? |
| |
| #REGAN I cannot think my sister in the least |
| Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance |
| She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, |
| 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, |
| As clears her from all blame. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR My curses on her! |
| |
| #REGAN O, sir, you are old. |
| Nature in you stands on the very verge |
| Of her confine: you should be ruled and led |
| By some discretion, that discerns your state |
| Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you, |
| That to our sister you do make return; |
| Say you have wrong'd her, sir. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ask her forgiveness? |
| Do you but mark how this becomes the house: |
| 'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old; |
| |
| [Kneeling] |
| |
| Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg |
| That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.' |
| |
| #REGAN Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks: |
| Return you to my sister. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR [Rising] Never, Regan: |
| She hath abated me of half my train; |
| Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, |
| Most serpent-like, upon the very heart: |
| All the stored vengeances of heaven fall |
| On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, |
| You taking airs, with lameness! |
| |
| #CORNWALL Fie, sir, fie! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames |
| Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, |
| You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, |
| To fall and blast her pride! |
| |
| #REGAN O the blest gods! so will you wish on me, |
| When the rash mood is on. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse: |
| Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give |
| Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; but thine |
| Do comfort and not burn. 'Tis not in thee |
| To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, |
| To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, |
| And in conclusion to oppose the bolt |
| Against my coming in: thou better know'st |
| The offices of nature, bond of childhood, |
| Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude; |
| Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot, |
| Wherein I thee endow'd. |
| |
| #REGAN Good sir, to the purpose. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Who put my man i' the stocks? |
| |
| [Tucket within] |
| |
| #CORNWALL What trumpet's that? |
| |
| #REGAN I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter, |
| That she would soon be here. |
| |
| [Enter #OSWALD] |
| |
| Is your lady come? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride |
| Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. |
| Out, varlet, from my sight! |
| |
| #CORNWALL What means your grace? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope |
| Thou didst not know on't. Who comes here? O heavens, |
| |
| [Enter #GONERIL] |
| |
| If you do love old men, if your sweet sway |
| Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, |
| Make it your cause; send down, and take my part! |
| |
| [To #GONERIL] |
| |
| Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? |
| O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? |
| |
| #GONERIL Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? |
| All's not offence that indiscretion finds |
| And dotage terms so. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR O sides, you are too tough; |
| Will you yet hold? How came my man i' the stocks? |
| |
| #CORNWALL I set him there, sir: but his own disorders |
| Deserved much less advancement. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR You! did you? |
| |
| #REGAN I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. |
| If, till the expiration of your month, |
| You will return and sojourn with my sister, |
| Dismissing half your train, come then to me: |
| I am now from home, and out of that provision |
| Which shall be needful for your entertainment. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd? |
| No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose |
| To wage against the enmity o' the air; |
| To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,-- |
| Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her? |
| Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took |
| Our youngest born, I could as well be brought |
| To knee his throne, and, squire-like; pension beg |
| To keep base life afoot. Return with her? |
| Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter |
| To this detested groom. |
| |
| [Pointing at #OSWALD] |
| |
| #GONERIL At your choice, sir. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad: |
| I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: |
| We'll no more meet, no more see one another: |
| But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; |
| Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, |
| Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil, |
| A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, |
| In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee; |
| Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: |
| I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, |
| Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove: |
| Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure: |
| I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, |
| I and my hundred knights. |
| |
| #REGAN Not altogether so: |
| I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided |
| For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; |
| For those that mingle reason with your passion |
| Must be content to think you old, and so-- |
| But she knows what she does. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Is this well spoken? |
| |
| #REGAN I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers? |
| Is it not well? What should you need of more? |
| Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger |
| Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house, |
| Should many people, under two commands, |
| Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible. |
| |
| #GONERIL Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance |
| From those that she calls servants or from mine? |
| |
| #REGAN Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you, |
| We could control them. If you will come to me,-- |
| For now I spy a danger,--I entreat you |
| To bring but five and twenty: to no more |
| Will I give place or notice. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I gave you all-- |
| |
| #REGAN And in good time you gave it. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Made you my guardians, my depositaries; |
| But kept a reservation to be follow'd |
| With such a number. What, must I come to you |
| With five and twenty, Regan? said you so? |
| |
| #REGAN And speak't again, my lord; no more with me. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, |
| When others are more wicked: not being the worst |
| Stands in some rank of praise. |
| |
| [To #GONERIL] |
| |
| I'll go with thee: |
| Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, |
| And thou art twice her love. |
| |
| #GONERIL Hear me, my lord; |
| What need you five and twenty, ten, or five, |
| To follow in a house where twice so many |
| Have a command to tend you? |
| |
| #REGAN What need one? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR O, reason not the need: our basest beggars |
| Are in the poorest thing superfluous: |
| Allow not nature more than nature needs, |
| Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady; |
| If only to go warm were gorgeous, |
| Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, |
| Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,-- |
| You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! |
| You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, |
| As full of grief as age; wretched in both! |
| If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts |
| Against their father, fool me not so much |
| To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, |
| And let not women's weapons, water-drops, |
| Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags, |
| I will have such revenges on you both, |
| That all the world shall--I will do such things,-- |
| What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be |
| The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep |
| No, I'll not weep: |
| I have full cause of weeping; but this heart |
| Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, |
| Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad! |
| |
| [Exeunt #KING #LEAR, #GLOUCESTER, #KENT, and #Fool] |
| |
| [Storm and tempest] |
| |
| #CORNWALL Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm. |
| |
| #REGAN This house is little: the old man and his people |
| Cannot be well bestow'd. |
| |
| #GONERIL 'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest, |
| And must needs taste his folly. |
| |
| #REGAN For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, |
| But not one follower. |
| |
| #GONERIL So am I purposed. |
| Where is my lord of Gloucester? |
| |
| #CORNWALL Follow'd the old man forth: he is return'd. |
| |
| [Re-enter #GLOUCESTER] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER The king is in high rage. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Whither is he going? |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER He calls to horse; but will I know not whither. |
| |
| #CORNWALL 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself. |
| |
| #GONERIL My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds |
| Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about |
| There's scarce a bush. |
| |
| #REGAN O, sir, to wilful men, |
| The injuries that they themselves procure |
| Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors: |
| He is attended with a desperate train; |
| And what they may incense him to, being apt |
| To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night: |
| My Regan counsels well; come out o' the storm. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT III |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE I A heath. |
| |
| |
| [Storm still. Enter #KENT and a #Gentleman, meeting] |
| |
| #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 element: |
| Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea, |
| Or swell the curled water '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 out-scorn |
| The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. |
| This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, |
| The lion and the belly-pinched 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 labours to out-jest |
| His heart-struck injuries. |
| |
| #KENT Sir, I do know you; |
| And dare, upon the warrant of my note, |
| Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, |
| Although as yet the face of it be cover'd |
| 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; what hath been seen, |
| Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes, |
| Or the hard rein which both of them have borne |
| Against the old kind king; or something deeper, |
| Whereof perchance these are but furnishings; |
| But, true it is, from France there comes a power |
| Into this scatter'd 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. |
| 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 out-wall, open this purse, and take |
| What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,-- |
| As fear not but you shall,--show her this ring; |
| And she will tell you who your 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. |
| |
| [Exeunt severally] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT III |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE II Another part of the heath. Storm still. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #KING #LEAR and #Fool] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! |
| You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout |
| Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! |
| You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, |
| Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, |
| Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, |
| Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world! |
| Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once, |
| That make ingrateful man! |
| |
| #Fool O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry |
| house is better than this rain-water out o' door. |
| Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing: |
| here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! |
| Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: |
| I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; |
| I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, |
| You owe me no subscription: 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 have with two pernicious daughters join'd |
| Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head |
| So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul! |
| |
| #Fool He that has a house to put's head in has a good |
| head-piece. |
| The cod-piece 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. |
| For there was never yet fair woman but she made |
| mouths in a glass. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No, I will be the pattern of all patience; |
| I will say nothing. |
| |
| [Enter #KENT] |
| |
| #KENT Who's there? |
| |
| #Fool Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise |
| 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 |
| The affliction nor the fear. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Let the great gods, |
| That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, |
| Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, |
| That hast within thee undivulged crimes, |
| Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand; |
| Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue |
| That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake, |
| That under covert and convenient seeming |
| Hast practised on man's life: close pent-up guilts, |
| Rive your concealing continents, and cry |
| These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man |
| More sinn'd against than sinning. |
| |
| #KENT Alack, bare-headed! |
| Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; |
| Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest: |
| Repose you there; while I to this hard house-- |
| More 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. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR My wits begin to turn. |
| Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold? |
| I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow? |
| The art of our necessities is strange, |
| That can make vile things precious. Come, |
| your hovel. |
| Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart |
| That's sorry yet for thee. |
| |
| #Fool [Singing] |
| |
| He that has and a little tiny wit-- |
| With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,-- |
| Must make content with his fortunes fit, |
| For the rain it raineth every day. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel. |
| |
| [Exeunt #KING #LEAR and #KENT] |
| |
| #Fool This is a brave night to cool a courtezan. |
| I'll speak 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 burn'd, 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' the 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. |
| This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT III |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE III Gloucester's castle. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #GLOUCESTER and #EDMUND] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural |
| dealing. When I desire their leave that I might |
| pity him, they took from me the use of mine own |
| house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual |
| displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for |
| him, nor any way sustain him. |
| |
| #EDMUND Most savage and unnatural! |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Go to; say you nothing. There's a division betwixt |
| the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have |
| received a letter this night; 'tis dangerous to be |
| spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet: |
| these injuries the king now bears will be revenged |
| home; there's part of a power already footed: we |
| must incline to the king. I will seek him, and |
| privily relieve him: go you and maintain talk with |
| the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived: |
| if he ask for me. I am ill, and gone to bed. |
| Though I die for it, as no less is threatened me, |
| the king my old master must be relieved. There is |
| some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #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. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT III |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE IV The heath. Before a hovel. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #KING #LEAR, #KENT, and #Fool] |
| |
| #KENT Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: |
| The tyranny of the open night's too rough |
| For nature to endure. |
| |
| [Storm still] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Let me alone. |
| |
| #KENT Good my lord, enter here. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Wilt break my heart? |
| |
| #KENT I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm |
| Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee; |
| But where the greater malady is fix'd, |
| The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'ldst shun a bear; |
| But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, |
| Thou'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the |
| mind's free, |
| The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind |
| Doth from my senses take all feeling else |
| Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! |
| Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand |
| For lifting food to't? 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. |
| |
| #KING #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. |
| |
| [To the #Fool] |
| |
| In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,-- |
| Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. |
| |
| [#Fool goes in] |
| |
| Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are, |
| That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, |
| How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, |
| Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you |
| From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en |
| Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; |
| Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, |
| That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, |
| And show the heavens more just. |
| |
| #EDGAR [Within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! |
| |
| [The #Fool runs out from the hovel] |
| |
| #Fool Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit |
| Help me, help me! |
| |
| #KENT Give me thy hand. Who's there? |
| |
| #Fool A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom. |
| |
| #KENT What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw? |
| Come forth. |
| |
| [Enter #EDGAR disguised as a mad man] |
| |
| #EDGAR Away! the foul fiend follows me! |
| Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. |
| Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Hast thou given all to thy two daughters? |
| And art thou come to this? |
| |
| #EDGAR Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul |
| fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and |
| through ford and whirlipool e'er bog and quagmire; |
| that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters |
| in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made film |
| proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over |
| four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a |
| traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold,--O, do |
| de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, |
| star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some |
| charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I |
| have him now,--and there,--and there again, and there. |
| |
| [Storm still] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? |
| Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all? |
| |
| #Fool Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air |
| Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! |
| |
| #KENT He hath no daughters, sir. |
| |
| #KING #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 Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill: |
| Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! |
| |
| #Fool This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. |
| |
| #EDGAR Take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents; |
| keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with |
| man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud |
| array. Tom's a-cold. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What hast thou been? |
| |
| #EDGAR A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled |
| my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of |
| my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with |
| her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and |
| broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that |
| slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it: |
| wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman |
| out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of |
| ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, |
| wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. |
| Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of |
| silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot |
| out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen |
| from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. |
| Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: |
| Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny. |
| Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by. |
| |
| [Storm still] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer |
| with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. |
| Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou |
| owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep |
| no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on |
| 's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself: |
| unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare, |
| forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! |
| come unbutton here. |
| |
| [Tearing off his clothes] |
| |
| #Fool Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night |
| to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were |
| like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the |
| rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire. |
| |
| [Enter #GLOUCESTER, with a torch] |
| |
| #EDGAR This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins |
| at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives |
| the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the |
| hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the |
| poor creature of earth. |
| S. Withold footed thrice the old; |
| He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold; |
| Bid her alight, |
| And her troth plight, |
| And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! |
| |
| #KENT How fares your grace? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What's he? |
| |
| #KENT Who's there? What is't you seek? |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER What are you there? Your names? |
| |
| #EDGAR Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, |
| the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in |
| the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, |
| eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and |
| the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the |
| standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to |
| tithing, and stock- punished, and imprisoned; who |
| hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his |
| body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear; |
| But mice and rats, and such small deer, |
| Have been Tom's food for seven long year. |
| Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend! |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER What, hath your grace no better company? |
| |
| #EDGAR The prince of darkness is a gentleman: |
| Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord, |
| That it doth hate what gets it. |
| |
| #EDGAR Poor Tom's a-cold. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer |
| To obey in all your daughters' hard commands: |
| Though their injunction be to bar my doors, |
| And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, |
| Yet have I ventured to come seek you out, |
| And bring you where both fire and food is ready. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR First let me talk with this philosopher. |
| What is the cause of thunder? |
| |
| #KENT Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban. |
| What is your study? |
| |
| #EDGAR How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Let me ask you one word in private. |
| |
| #KENT Importune him once more to go, my lord; |
| His wits begin to unsettle. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Canst thou blame him? |
| |
| [Storm still] |
| |
| His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent! |
| He said it would be thus, poor banish'd man! |
| Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, |
| I am almost mad myself: I had a son, |
| Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life, |
| But lately, very late: I loved him, friend; |
| No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee, |
| The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this! |
| I do beseech your grace,-- |
| |
| #KING #LEAR O, cry your mercy, sir. |
| Noble philosopher, your company. |
| |
| #EDGAR Tom's a-cold. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER In, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee warm. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Come let's in all. |
| |
| #KENT This way, my lord. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR With him; |
| I will keep still with my philosopher. |
| |
| #KENT Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Take him you on. |
| |
| #KENT Sirrah, come on; go along with us. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Come, good Athenian. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER No words, no words: hush. |
| |
| #EDGAR Child Rowland to the dark tower came, |
| His word was still,--Fie, foh, and fum, |
| I smell the blood of a British man. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT III |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE V Gloucester's castle. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #CORNWALL and #EDMUND] |
| |
| #CORNWALL I will have my revenge ere I depart his house. |
| |
| #EDMUND How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus |
| gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think |
| of. |
| |
| #CORNWALL I now perceive, it was not altogether your |
| brother's evil disposition made him seek his death; |
| but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reprovable |
| badness in himself. |
| |
| #EDMUND How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to |
| be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which |
| approves him an intelligent party to the advantages |
| of France: O heavens! that this treason were not, |
| or not I the detector! |
| |
| #CORNWALL o with me to the duchess. |
| |
| #EDMUND If the matter of this paper be certain, you have |
| mighty business in hand. |
| |
| #CORNWALL True or false, it hath made thee earl of |
| Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he |
| may be ready for our apprehension. |
| |
| #EDMUND [Aside] If I find him comforting the king, it will |
| stuff his suspicion more fully.--I will persevere in |
| my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore |
| between that and my blood. |
| |
| #CORNWALL I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a |
| dearer father in my love. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT III |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE VI A chamber in a farmhouse adjoining the castle. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #GLOUCESTER, #KING #LEAR, #KENT, #Fool, and #EDGAR] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Here is better than the open air; take it |
| thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what |
| addition I can: I will not be long from you. |
| |
| #KENT All the power of his wits have given way to his |
| impatience: the gods reward your kindness! |
| |
| [Exit #GLOUCESTER] |
| |
| #EDGAR Frateretto calls me; and tells me |
| Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. |
| Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend. |
| |
| #Fool Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a |
| gentleman or a yeoman? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR A king, a king! |
| |
| #Fool No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son; |
| for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman |
| before him. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR To have a thousand with red burning spits |
| Come hissing in upon 'em,-- |
| |
| #EDGAR The foul fiend bites my back. |
| |
| #Fool He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a |
| horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR It shall be done; I will arraign them straight. |
| |
| [To #EDGAR] |
| |
| Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer; |
| |
| [To the #Fool] |
| |
| Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she foxes! |
| |
| #EDGAR Look, where he stands and glares! |
| Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam? |
| Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me,-- |
| |
| #Fool Her boat hath a leak, |
| And she must not speak |
| Why she dares not come over to thee. |
| |
| #EDGAR The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a |
| nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two |
| white herring. Croak not, black angel; I have no |
| food for thee. |
| |
| #KENT How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed: |
| Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I'll see their trial first. Bring in the evidence. |
| |
| [To #EDGAR] |
| |
| Thou robed man of justice, take thy place; |
| |
| [To the #Fool] |
| |
| And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, |
| Bench by his side: |
| |
| [To #KENT] |
| |
| you are o' the commission, |
| Sit you too. |
| |
| #EDGAR Let us deal justly. |
| Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? |
| Thy sheep be in the corn; |
| And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, |
| Thy sheep shall take no harm. |
| Pur! the cat is gray. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my |
| oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the |
| poor king her father. |
| |
| #Fool Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR She cannot deny it. |
| |
| #Fool Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR And here's another, whose warp'd 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 Bless thy five wits! |
| |
| #KENT O pity! Sir, where is the patience now, |
| That thou so oft have boasted to retain? |
| |
| #EDGAR [Aside] My tears begin to take his part so much, |
| They'll mar my counterfeiting. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and |
| Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me. |
| |
| #EDGAR Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs! |
| Be thy mouth or black or white, |
| Tooth that poisons if it bite; |
| Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim, |
| Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, |
| Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail, |
| Tom will make them weep and wail: |
| For, with throwing thus my head, |
| Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. |
| Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and |
| fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds |
| about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that |
| makes these hard hearts? |
| |
| [To #EDGAR] |
| |
| You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I |
| do not like the fashion of your garments: you will |
| say they are Persian attire: but let them be changed. |
| |
| #KENT Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains: |
| so, so, so. We'll go to supper i' he morning. So, so, so. |
| |
| #Fool And I'll go to bed at noon. |
| |
| [Re-enter #GLOUCESTER] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER 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 towards 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 assured loss: take up, take up; |
| And follow me, that will to some provision |
| Give thee quick conduct. |
| |
| #KENT Oppressed nature sleeps: |
| This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, |
| Which, if convenience will not allow, |
| Stand in hard cure. |
| |
| [To the #Fool] |
| |
| Come, help to bear thy master; |
| Thou must not stay behind. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Come, come, away. |
| |
| [Exeunt all but #EDGAR] |
| |
| #EDGAR When we our betters see bearing our woes, |
| We scarcely think our miseries our foes. |
| Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind, |
| Leaving free things and happy shows behind: |
| But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip, |
| When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. |
| How light and portable my pain seems now, |
| When that which makes me bend makes the king bow, |
| He childed as I father'd! Tom, away! |
| Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray, |
| When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, |
| In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee. |
| What will hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king! |
| Lurk, lurk. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT III |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE VII Gloucester's castle. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #CORNWALL, #REGAN, #GONERIL, #EDMUND, and Servants] |
| |
| #CORNWALL Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him |
| this letter: the army of France is landed. Seek |
| out the villain Gloucester. |
| |
| [Exeunt some of the Servants] |
| |
| #REGAN Hang him instantly. |
| |
| #GONERIL Pluck out his eyes. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our |
| sister company: the revenges we are bound to take |
| upon your traitorous father are not fit for your |
| beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to |
| a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the |
| like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent |
| betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister: farewell, my |
| lord of Gloucester. |
| |
| [Enter #OSWALD] |
| |
| How now! where's the king? |
| |
| #OSWALD My lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence: |
| Some five or six and thirty of his knights, |
| Hot questrists after him, met him at gate; |
| Who, with some other of the lords dependants, |
| Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast |
| To have well-armed friends. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Get horses for your mistress. |
| |
| #GONERIL Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Edmund, farewell. |
| |
| [Exeunt #GONERIL, #EDMUND, and #OSWALD] |
| |
| Go seek the traitor Gloucester, |
| Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. |
| |
| [Exeunt other Servants] |
| |
| Though well we may not pass upon his life |
| Without the form of justice, yet our power |
| Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men |
| May blame, but not control. Who's there? the traitor? |
| |
| [Enter #GLOUCESTER, brought in by two or three] |
| |
| #REGAN Ingrateful fox! 'tis he. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Bind fast his corky arms. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER What mean your graces? Good my friends, consider |
| You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends. |
| |
| #CORNWALL Bind him, I say. |
| |
| [Servants bind him] |
| |
| #REGAN Hard, hard. O filthy traitor! |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none. |
| |
| #CORNWALL To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find-- |
| |
| [#REGAN plucks his 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 robbers' hands my hospitable favours |
| You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? |
| |
| #CORNWALL Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? |
| |
| #REGAN Be simple answerer, for we know the truth. |
| |
| #CORNWALL And what confederacy have you with the traitors |
| Late footed in the kingdom? |
| |
| #REGAN To whose hands have you 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 first answer that. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course. |
| |
| #REGAN Wherefore to Dover, sir? |
| |
| #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 buoy'd up, |
| And quench'd the stelled fires: |
| Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. |
| If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, |
| Thou shouldst have said 'Good porter, turn the key,' |
| All cruels else subscribed: but I shall see |
| The winged 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! O cruel! O you gods! |
| |
| #REGAN One side will mock another; the 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 My villain! |
| |
| [They draw and fight] |
| |
| First Servant Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. |
| |
| #REGAN Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus! |
| |
| [Takes a sword, and runs at him behind] |
| |
| First Servant O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left |
| To see some mischief on him. O! |
| |
| [Dies] |
| |
| #CORNWALL Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly! |
| Where is thy lustre 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. |
| |
| [Exit one with #GLOUCESTER] |
| |
| How is't, my lord? how look you? |
| |
| #CORNWALL I have received a hurt: follow me, lady. |
| Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave |
| Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace: |
| Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm. |
| |
| [Exit #CORNWALL, led by #REGAN] |
| |
| Second Servant I'll never care what wickedness I do, |
| If this man come to good. |
| |
| Third Servant If she live long, |
| And in the end meet the old course of death, |
| Women will all turn monsters. |
| |
| Second Servant Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam |
| To lead him where he would: his roguish madness |
| Allows itself to any thing. |
| |
| Third Servant Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs |
| To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him! |
| |
| [Exeunt severally] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT IV |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE I The heath. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #EDGAR] |
| |
| #EDGAR Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, |
| Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. 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, led by an Old Man] |
| |
| My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! |
| But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, |
| Lie 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, be gone: |
| Thy comforts can do me no good at all; |
| Thee they may hurt. |
| |
| Old Man Alack, sir, 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 abused father's wrath! |
| Might I but live to see thee in my touch, |
| I'ld 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' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw; |
| Which made me think a man a worm: my son |
| Came then into my mind; and yet my mind |
| Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard |
| more since. |
| As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods. |
| They kill us for their sport. |
| |
| #EDGAR [Aside] How should this be? |
| Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, |
| Angering itself and others.--Bless thee, master! |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Is that the naked fellow? |
| |
| Old Man Ay, my lord. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake, |
| Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain, |
| I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love; |
| And bring some covering for this naked soul, |
| Who I'll entreat to lead me. |
| |
| Old Man Alack, sir, he is mad. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER 'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind. |
| Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure; |
| Above the rest, be gone. |
| |
| Old Man I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, |
| Come on't what will. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #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 Know'st thou the way to Dover? |
| |
| #EDGAR Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor |
| Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless |
| thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! five |
| fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as |
| Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of |
| stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of |
| mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids |
| and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master! |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER 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 doth 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 confined 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. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT IV |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE II Before #ALBANY's palace. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #GONERIL and #EDMUND] |
| |
| #GONERIL Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband |
| Not met us on the way. |
| |
| [Enter #OSWALD] |
| |
| 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 inform'd him, then he call'd me sot, |
| And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out: |
| What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him; |
| What like, offensive. |
| |
| #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 arms 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; |
| |
| [Giving a favour] |
| |
| Decline your head: 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. |
| |
| #GONERIL My most dear Gloucester! |
| |
| [Exit #EDMUND] |
| |
| O, the difference of man and man! |
| To thee a woman's services are due: |
| My fool usurps my body. |
| |
| #OSWALD Madam, here comes my lord. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| [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 border'd 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 savour but themselves. What have you done? |
| Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd? |
| A father, and a gracious aged man, |
| Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd 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 offences, |
| It will come, |
| Humanity must perforce prey on itself, |
| Like monsters of the deep. |
| |
| #GONERIL Milk-liver'd man! |
| That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; |
| Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning |
| Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st |
| #Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd |
| Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum? |
| France spreads his banners in our noiseless land; |
| With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats; |
| Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest |
| 'Alack, why does he so?' |
| |
| #ALBANY See thyself, devil! |
| Proper deformity seems not in the fiend |
| So horrid as in woman. |
| |
| #GONERIL O vain fool! |
| |
| #ALBANY Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame, |
| Be-monster 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 now-- |
| |
| [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 eye! |
| |
| Messenger A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, |
| Opposed against the act, bending his sword |
| To his great master; who, thereat enraged, |
| Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead; |
| But not without that harmful stroke, which since |
| Hath pluck'd 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; |
| '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. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #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 Knows he the wickedness? |
| |
| Messenger Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd 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'dst the king, |
| And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend: |
| Tell me what more thou know'st. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT IV |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE III The French camp near Dover. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #KENT and a #Gentleman] |
| |
| #KENT Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back |
| know you the reason? |
| |
| #Gentleman Something he left imperfect in the |
| state, which since his coming forth is thought |
| of; which imports to the kingdom so much |
| fear and danger, that his personal return was |
| most required and necessary. |
| |
| #KENT Who hath he left behind him general? |
| |
| #Gentleman The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. |
| |
| #KENT Did your letters pierce the queen to any |
| demonstration of grief? |
| |
| #Gentleman Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence; |
| And now and then an ample tear trill'd down |
| Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen |
| Over her passion; who, most rebel-like, |
| Sought 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 play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know |
| What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence, |
| As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. 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 press'd her heart: |
| Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters! |
| Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night? |
| Let pity not be believed!' There she shook |
| The holy water from her heavenly eyes, |
| And clamour moisten'd: 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 mate could not beget |
| Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? |
| |
| #Gentleman No. |
| |
| #KENT Was this before the king return'd? |
| |
| #Gentleman No, since. |
| |
| #KENT Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the 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 stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd 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 Alack, 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. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT IV |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE IV The same. A tent. |
| |
| |
| [Enter, with drum and colours, #CORDELIA, #Doctor, and Soldiers] |
| |
| #CORDELIA Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now |
| As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; |
| Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, |
| With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, |
| 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. |
| |
| [Exit an Officer] |
| |
| What can man's wisdom |
| In the restoring his bereaved 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 unpublish'd virtues of the earth, |
| Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate |
| In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him; |
| Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life |
| That wants the means to lead it. |
| |
| [Enter a 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 important 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! |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT IV |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE V Gloucester's castle. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #REGAN and #OSWALD] |
| |
| #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' the enemy. |
| |
| #OSWALD I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. |
| |
| #REGAN Our troops set forth to-morrow: 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, |
| Something--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 oeillades and most speaking looks |
| To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. |
| |
| #OSWALD I, madam? |
| |
| #REGAN I speak in understanding; you are; I know't: |
| Therefore I do advise you, take this note: |
| My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd; |
| And more convenient is he for my hand |
| Than for your lady's: you may gather more. |
| If you do find him, pray you, give him this; |
| And when your mistress hears thus much from you, |
| I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. |
| So, 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. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT IV |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE VI Fields near Dover. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #GLOUCESTER, and #EDGAR dressed like a peasant] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER When shall we come to the top of that same hill? |
| |
| #EDGAR You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. |
| |
| #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 alter'd; 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: half way 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, |
| Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy |
| Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge, |
| That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, |
| Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more; |
| Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight |
| Topple down headlong. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Set me where you stand. |
| |
| #EDGAR Give me your hand: you are now within a foot |
| Of the 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! Go thou farther off; |
| Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. |
| |
| #EDGAR Now fare you well, good sir. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER With all my heart. |
| |
| #EDGAR Why I do trifle thus with his despair |
| Is done to cure it. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER [Kneeling] O you mighty gods! |
| 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 loathed part of nature should |
| Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! |
| Now, fellow, fare thee well. |
| |
| [He falls forward] |
| |
| #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 shiver'd 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: |
| 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' the 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 whelk'd and waved like the enridged sea: |
| It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father, |
| Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours |
| 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. But who comes here? |
| |
| [Enter #KING #LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers] |
| |
| The safer sense will ne'er accommodate |
| His master thus. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the |
| king himself. |
| |
| #EDGAR O thou side-piercing sight! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Nature's above art in that respect. There's your |
| press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a |
| crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look, |
| look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted |
| cheese will do 't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove |
| it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well |
| flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh! |
| Give the word. |
| |
| #EDGAR Sweet marjoram. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Pass. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER I know that voice. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! They flattered |
| me like a dog; and told me I had white hairs in my |
| beard ere the black ones were there. To say 'ay' |
| and 'no' to every thing that I said!--'Ay' and 'no' |
| too was no good divinity. When the rain came to |
| wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when |
| the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I |
| found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are |
| not men o' their words: they told me I was every |
| thing; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER The trick of that voice I do well remember: |
| Is 't not the king? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ay, every inch a king: |
| When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. |
| I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery? |
| Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No: |
| The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly |
| Does lecher in my sight. |
| Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son |
| Was kinder to his father than my daughters |
| Got 'tween the lawful sheets. |
| To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers. |
| Behold yond simpering dame, |
| Whose face between her forks presages snow; |
| That minces virtue, and does shake the head |
| To hear of pleasure's name; |
| The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't |
| With a more riotous appetite. |
| Down from the waist they are Centaurs, |
| Though women all above: |
| But to the girdle do the gods inherit, |
| Beneath is all the fiends'; |
| There's hell, there's darkness, there's the |
| sulphurous pit, |
| Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, |
| fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, |
| good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: |
| there's money for thee. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER O, let me kiss that hand! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world |
| Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny |
| at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not |
| love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the |
| penning of it. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. |
| |
| #EDGAR I would not take this from report; it is, |
| And my heart breaks at it. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Read. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER What, with the case of eyes? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your |
| head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in |
| a heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you see how |
| this world goes. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER I see it feelingly. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes |
| with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond |
| justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in |
| thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, which |
| is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen |
| a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Ay, sir. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR And the creature run from the cur? There thou |
| mightst behold the great image of authority: a |
| dog's obeyed in office. |
| Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! |
| Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; |
| Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind |
| For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. |
| Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; |
| Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, |
| And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks: |
| Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it. |
| None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em: |
| Take that of me, my friend, who have the power |
| To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes; |
| And like a scurvy politician, seem |
| To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now: |
| Pull off my boots: harder, harder: so. |
| |
| #EDGAR O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. |
| I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester: |
| Thou must be patient; we came crying hither: |
| Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, |
| We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Alack, alack the day! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR When we are born, we cry that we are come |
| To this great stage of fools: this a good block; |
| It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe |
| A troop of horse with felt: I'll put 't in proof; |
| And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law, |
| Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! |
| |
| [Enter a #Gentleman, with Attendants] |
| |
| #Gentleman O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir, |
| Your most dear daughter-- |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even |
| The natural fool of fortune. Use me well; |
| You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons; |
| I am cut to the brains. |
| |
| #Gentleman You shall have any thing. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No seconds? all myself? |
| Why, this would make a man a man of salt, |
| To use his eyes for garden water-pots, |
| Ay, and laying autumn's dust. |
| |
| #Gentleman Good sir,-- |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What! |
| I will be jovial: come, come; I am a king, |
| My masters, know you that. |
| |
| #Gentleman You are a royal one, and we obey you. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Then there's life in't. Nay, if you get it, you |
| shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. |
| |
| [Exit running; Attendants follow] |
| |
| #Gentleman A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, |
| Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter, |
| Who redeems nature from the general curse |
| Which twain have brought her to. |
| |
| #EDGAR Hail, gentle sir. |
| |
| #Gentleman Sir, speed you: what's your will? |
| |
| #EDGAR Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? |
| |
| #Gentleman Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that, |
| Which can distinguish sound. |
| |
| #EDGAR But, by your favour, |
| How near's the other army? |
| |
| #Gentleman Near and on speedy foot; the main descry |
| Stands on the hourly thought. |
| |
| #EDGAR I thank you, sir: that's all. |
| |
| #Gentleman Though that the queen on special cause is here, |
| Her army is moved on. |
| |
| #EDGAR I thank you, sir. |
| |
| [Exit #Gentleman] |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me: |
| Let not my worser spirit tempt me again |
| To die before you please! |
| |
| #EDGAR Well pray you, father. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Now, good sir, what are you? |
| |
| #EDGAR A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows; |
| Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, |
| Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, |
| I'll lead you to some biding. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Hearty thanks: |
| The bounty and the benison of heaven |
| To boot, and boot! |
| |
| [Enter #OSWALD] |
| |
| #OSWALD A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! |
| That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh |
| To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, |
| Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out |
| That must destroy thee. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER Now let thy friendly hand |
| Put strength enough to't. |
| |
| [#EDGAR interposes] |
| |
| #OSWALD Wherefore, bold peasant, |
| Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence; |
| Lest that the infection of his fortune take |
| Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. |
| |
| #EDGAR Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. |
| |
| #OSWALD Let go, slave, or thou diest! |
| |
| #EDGAR Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk |
| pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life, |
| 'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. |
| Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vor |
| ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be |
| the harder: ch'ill be plain with you. |
| |
| #OSWALD Out, dunghill! |
| |
| #EDGAR Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor |
| your foins. |
| |
| [They fight, and #EDGAR knocks him down] |
| |
| #OSWALD Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse: |
| If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body; |
| And give the letters which thou find'st about me |
| To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out |
| Upon the British party: O, untimely death! |
| |
| [Dies] |
| |
| #EDGAR I know thee well: a serviceable villain; |
| As duteous to the vices of thy mistress |
| As badness would desire. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER What, is he dead? |
| |
| #EDGAR Sit you down, father; rest you |
| Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of |
| May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry |
| He had no other death's-man. Let us see: |
| Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not: |
| To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts; |
| Their papers, is more lawful. |
| |
| [Reads] |
| |
| 'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have |
| many opportunities to cut him off: if your will |
| want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. |
| There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: |
| then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from |
| the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply |
| the place for your labour. |
| 'Your--wife, so I would say-- |
| 'Affectionate servant, |
| '#GONERIL.' |
| O undistinguish'd space of woman's will! |
| A plot upon her virtuous husband's life; |
| And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands, |
| Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified |
| Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time |
| With this ungracious paper strike the sight |
| Of the death practised duke: for him 'tis well |
| That of thy death and business I can tell. |
| |
| #GLOUCESTER The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense, |
| That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling |
| Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract: |
| So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs, |
| And woes by wrong imaginations lose |
| The knowledge of themselves. |
| |
| #EDGAR Give me your hand: |
| |
| [Drum afar off] |
| |
| Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum: |
| Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT IV |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE VII A tent in the French camp. #LEAR on a bed asleep, |
| soft music playing; #Gentleman, and others attending. |
| |
| |
| [Enter #CORDELIA, #KENT, and #Doctor] |
| |
| #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 clipp'd, but so. |
| |
| #CORDELIA Be better suited: |
| These weeds are memories of those worser hours: |
| I prithee, put them off. |
| |
| #KENT Pardon me, 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. |
| |
| [To the #Doctor] |
| |
| How does the king? |
| |
| #Doctor Madam, sleeps still. |
| |
| #CORDELIA O you kind gods, |
| Cure this great breach in his abused nature! |
| The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up |
| Of this child-changed father! |
| |
| #Doctor So please your majesty |
| That we may wake the king: he hath slept long. |
| |
| #CORDELIA Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed |
| I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd? |
| |
| #Gentleman Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his 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. |
| |
| #Doctor Please you, draw near. Louder the music there! |
| |
| #CORDELIA 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 |
| Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face |
| To be opposed against the warring 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? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave: |
| Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound |
| Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears |
| Do scald like moulten lead. |
| |
| #CORDELIA Sir, do you know me? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR You are a spirit, I know: when did you die? |
| |
| #CORDELIA Still, still, far wide! |
| |
| #Doctor He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile. |
| |
| #KING #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 pin prick. Would I were assured |
| Of my condition! |
| |
| #CORDELIA O, look upon me, sir, |
| And hold your hands in benediction o'er me: |
| No, sir, you must not kneel. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Pray, do not mock me: |
| 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 And so I am, I am. |
| |
| #KING #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. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Am I in France? |
| |
| #KENT In your own kingdom, sir. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Do not abuse me. |
| |
| #Doctor Be comforted, good madam: the great rage, |
| You see, is kill'd 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? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR You must bear with me: |
| Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish. |
| |
| [Exeunt all but #KENT and #Gentleman] |
| |
| #Gentleman Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? |
| |
| #KENT Most certain, sir. |
| |
| #Gentleman Who is conductor of his people? |
| |
| #KENT As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. |
| |
| #Gentleman They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl |
| of Kent in Germany. |
| |
| #KENT Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the |
| powers of the kingdom approach apace. |
| |
| #Gentleman The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you |
| well, sir. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #KENT My point and period will be throughly wrought, |
| Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT V |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE I The British camp, near Dover. |
| |
| |
| [Enter, with drum and colours, #EDMUND, #REGAN, |
| Gentlemen, and Soldiers. |
| |
| #EDMUND 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. |
| |
| [To a #Gentleman, who goes out] |
| |
| #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 honour'd 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 bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. |
| |
| #EDMUND No, by mine honour, 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 colours, #ALBANY, #GONERIL, and Soldiers] |
| |
| #GONERIL [Aside] I had rather lose the battle than that sister |
| Should loosen him and me. |
| |
| #ALBANY Our very loving sister, well be-met. |
| Sir, this I hear; 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 toucheth 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 reason'd? |
| |
| #GONERIL Combine together 'gainst the enemy; |
| For these domestic and particular broils |
| Are not the question here. |
| |
| #ALBANY Let's then determine |
| With the ancient of war on our proceedings. |
| |
| #EDMUND I shall attend you presently at your tent. |
| |
| #REGAN Sister, you'll go with us? |
| |
| #GONERIL No. |
| |
| #REGAN 'Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us. |
| |
| #GONERIL [Aside] O, ho, I know the riddle.--I will go. |
| |
| [As they are going out, enter #EDGAR disguised] |
| |
| #EDGAR If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor, |
| Hear me one word. |
| |
| #ALBANY I'll overtake you. Speak. |
| |
| [Exeunt all but #ALBANY and #EDGAR] |
| |
| #EDGAR Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. |
| If you have victory, let the trumpet sound |
| For him that brought it: wretched though I seem, |
| I can produce a champion that will prove |
| What is avouched there. If you miscarry, |
| Your business of the world hath so an end, |
| And machination ceases. 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. |
| |
| #ALBANY Why, fare thee well: I will o'erlook thy paper. |
| |
| [Exit #EDGAR] |
| |
| [Re-enter #EDMUND] |
| |
| #EDMUND The enemy's in view; draw up your powers. |
| Here is the guess of their true strength and forces |
| By diligent discovery; but your haste |
| Is now urged on you. |
| |
| #ALBANY We will greet the time. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #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 enjoy'd, |
| 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. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT V |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE II A field between the two camps. |
| |
| |
| [Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours, |
| #KING #LEAR, #CORDELIA, and Soldiers, over the stage; |
| and exeunt] |
| |
| [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! |
| |
| [Exit #EDGAR] |
| |
| [Alarum and retreat within. Re-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 farther, 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. |
| |
| [Exeunt] |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| #KING #LEAR |
| |
| |
| ACT V |
| |
| |
| |
| SCENE III The British camp near Dover. |
| |
| |
| [Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, #EDMUND, |
| #KING #LEAR and #CORDELIA, prisoners; #Captain, |
| Soldiers, &c] |
| |
| #EDMUND Some officers take them away: good guard, |
| Until their greater pleasures first be known |
| That are to censure them. |
| |
| #CORDELIA We are not the first |
| Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst. |
| For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down; |
| Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown. |
| Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: |
| We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: |
| When thou dost ask 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 wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, |
| That ebb and flow by the moon. |
| |
| #EDMUND Take them away. |
| |
| #KING #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 starve |
| first. Come. |
| |
| [Exeunt #KING #LEAR and #CORDELIA, guarded] |
| |
| #EDMUND Come hither, captain; hark. |
| Take thou this note; |
| |
| [Giving a paper] |
| |
| 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 thou 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. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| [Flourish. Enter #ALBANY, #GONERIL, #REGAN, another |
| #Captain, and Soldiers] |
| |
| #ALBANY Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain, |
| And fortune led you well: you have the captives |
| That were the opposites of this day's strife: |
| We do require them of you, so to use them |
| As we shall find their merits and our safety |
| May equally determine. |
| |
| #EDMUND Sir, I thought it fit |
| To send the old and miserable king |
| To some retention and appointed guard; |
| Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, |
| To pluck the common bosom on his side, |
| An turn our impress'd lances in our eyes |
| Which do command them. With him I sent the queen; |
| My reason all the same; and they are ready |
| To-morrow, or at further space, to 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 look'd but a-squint. |
| |
| #REGAN Lady, I am not well; else I should answer |
| From a full-flowing stomach. General, |
| Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; |
| Dispose of them, of me; the walls are 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 good will. |
| |
| #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 |
| |
| [Pointing to Goneril] |
| |
| For your claim, fair sister, |
| I bar it in the interest of my wife: |
| 'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord, |
| And I, her husband, contradict your bans. |
| If you will marry, make your loves to me, |
| My lady is bespoke. |
| |
| #GONERIL An interlude! |
| |
| #ALBANY Thou art arm'd, Gloucester: let the trumpet sound: |
| If none appear to prove upon thy head |
| Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, |
| There is my pledge; |
| |
| [Throwing down a glove] |
| |
| I'll prove it on thy heart, |
| Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less |
| Than I have here proclaim'd thee. |
| |
| #REGAN Sick, O, sick! |
| |
| #GONERIL [Aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. |
| |
| #EDMUND There's my exchange: |
| |
| [Throwing down a glove] |
| |
| what in the world he is |
| That names me traitor, villain-like he lies: |
| Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach, |
| On him, on you, who not? I will maintain |
| My truth and honour firmly. |
| |
| #ALBANY A herald, ho! |
| |
| #EDMUND A herald, ho, a herald! |
| |
| #ALBANY Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, |
| All levied in my name, have in my name |
| Took their discharge. |
| |
| #REGAN My sickness grows upon me. |
| |
| #ALBANY She is not well; convey her to my tent. |
| |
| [Exit Regan, led] |
| |
| [Enter a Herald] |
| |
| Come hither, herald,--Let the trumpet sound, |
| And read out this. |
| |
| #Captain Sound, trumpet! |
| |
| [A trumpet sounds] |
| |
| Herald [Reads] 'If any man of quality or degree within |
| the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, |
| supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold |
| traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the |
| trumpet: he is bold in his defence.' |
| |
| #EDMUND Sound! |
| |
| [First trumpet] |
| |
| Herald Again! |
| |
| [Second trumpet] |
| |
| Herald Again! |
| |
| [Third trumpet] |
| |
| [Trumpet answers within] |
| |
| [Enter #EDGAR, at the third sound, armed, with a |
| trumpet before him] |
| |
| #ALBANY Ask him his purposes, why he appears |
| Upon this call o' the trumpet. |
| |
| Herald What are you? |
| Your name, your quality? and why you answer |
| This present summons? |
| |
| #EDGAR Know, my name is lost; |
| By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit: |
| Yet am I noble as the adversary |
| I come to cope. |
| |
| #ALBANY Which is that adversary? |
| |
| #EDGAR What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester? |
| |
| #EDMUND Himself: what say'st thou to him? |
| |
| #EDGAR Draw thy sword, |
| That, if my speech offend a noble heart, |
| Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine. |
| Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, |
| My oath, and my profession: I protest, |
| Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, |
| Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, |
| Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor; |
| False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father; |
| Conspirant 'gainst this high-illustrious prince; |
| And, from the extremest upward of thy head |
| To the descent and dust below thy foot, |
| A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'No,' |
| This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent |
| To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, |
| Thou liest. |
| |
| #EDMUND In wisdom I should ask thy name; |
| But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, |
| And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, |
| What safe and nicely I might well delay |
| By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn: |
| Back do I toss these treasons to thy head; |
| With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; |
| Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise, |
| This sword of mine shall give them instant way, |
| Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak! |
| |
| [Alarums. They fight. #EDMUND falls] |
| |
| #ALBANY Save him, save him! |
| |
| #GONERIL This is practise, Gloucester: |
| By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer |
| An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd, |
| But cozen'd and beguiled. |
| |
| #ALBANY Shut your mouth, dame, |
| Or with this paper shall I stop it: Hold, sir: |
| Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil: |
| No tearing, lady: I perceive you know it. |
| |
| [Gives the letter to #EDMUND] |
| |
| #GONERIL Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine: |
| Who can arraign me for't. |
| |
| #ALBANY Most monstrous! oh! |
| Know'st thou this paper? |
| |
| #GONERIL Ask me not what I know. |
| |
| [Exit] |
| |
| #ALBANY Go after her: she's desperate; govern her. |
| |
| #EDMUND What you have charged me with, that have I done; |
| And more, much more; the time will bring it out: |
| 'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou |
| That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble, |
| I do forgive thee. |
| |
| #EDGAR Let's exchange charity. |
| I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; |
| If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me. |
| My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. |
| The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices |
| Make instruments to plague us: |
| The dark and vicious place where thee he got |
| Cost him his eyes. |
| |
| #EDMUND Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true; |
| The wheel is come full circle: I am here. |
| |
| #ALBANY Methought thy very gait did prophesy |
| A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee: |
| Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I |
| Did hate thee or thy father! |
| |
| #EDGAR Worthy prince, I know't. |
| |
| #ALBANY Where have you hid yourself? |
| How have you known the miseries of your father? |
| |
| #EDGAR By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; |
| And when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst! |
| The bloody proclamation to escape, |
| That follow'd me so near,--O, our lives' sweetness! |
| That we the pain of death would hourly die |
| Rather than die at once!--taught me to shift |
| Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance |
| That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit |
| Met I my father with his bleeding rings, |
| Their precious stones new lost: became his guide, |
| Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair; |
| Never,--O fault!--reveal'd myself unto him, |
| Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd: |
| Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, |
| I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last |
| Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart, |
| Alack, too weak the conflict to support! |
| 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, |
| Burst smilingly. |
| |
| #EDMUND This speech of yours hath moved me, |
| And shall perchance do good: but speak you on; |
| You look as you had something more to say. |
| |
| #ALBANY If there be more, more woeful, hold it in; |
| For I am almost ready to dissolve, |
| Hearing of this. |
| |
| #EDGAR This would have seem'd a period |
| To such as love not sorrow; but another, |
| To amplify too much, would make much more, |
| And top extremity. |
| Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a man, |
| Who, having seen me in my worst estate, |
| Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding |
| Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms |
| He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out |
| As he'ld burst heaven; threw him on my father; |
| Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him |
| That ever ear received: which in recounting |
| His grief grew puissant and the strings of life |
| Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded, |
| And there I left him tranced. |
| |
| #ALBANY But who was this? |
| |
| #EDGAR Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise |
| Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service |
| Improper for a slave. |
| |
| [Enter a #Gentleman, with a bloody knife] |
| |
| #Gentleman Help, help, O, help! |
| |
| #EDGAR What kind of help? |
| |
| #ALBANY Speak, man. |
| |
| #EDGAR What means that bloody knife? |
| |
| #Gentleman 'Tis hot, it smokes; |
| It came even from the heart of--O, she's dead! |
| |
| #ALBANY Who dead? speak, man. |
| |
| #Gentleman Your lady, sir, your lady: and her sister |
| By her is poisoned; she hath confess'd it. |
| |
| #EDMUND I was contracted to them both: all three |
| Now marry in an instant. |
| |
| #EDGAR Here comes Kent. |
| |
| #ALBANY Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead: |
| This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble, |
| Touches us not with pity. |
| |
| [Exit #Gentleman] |
| |
| [Enter #KENT] |
| |
| O, is this he? |
| The time will not allow the compliment |
| Which very manners urges. |
| |
| #KENT I am come |
| To bid my king and master aye good night: |
| Is he not here? |
| |
| #ALBANY Great thing of us forgot! |
| Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia? |
| See'st thou this object, Kent? |
| |
| [The bodies of #GONERIL and #REGAN are brought in] |
| |
| #KENT Alack, why thus? |
| |
| #EDMUND Yet Edmund was beloved: |
| The one the other poison'd for my sake, |
| And after slew herself. |
| |
| #ALBANY Even so. Cover their faces. |
| |
| #EDMUND I pant for life: some good I mean to do, |
| Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, |
| Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ |
| Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia: |
| Nay, send in time. |
| |
| #ALBANY Run, run, O, run! |
| |
| #EDGAR To who, my lord? Who hath the office? send |
| Thy token of reprieve. |
| |
| #EDMUND Well thought on: take my sword, |
| Give it the captain. |
| |
| #ALBANY Haste thee, for thy life. |
| |
| [Exit #EDGAR] |
| |
| #EDMUND He hath commission from thy wife and me |
| To hang Cordelia in the prison, and |
| To lay the blame upon her own despair, |
| That she fordid herself. |
| |
| #ALBANY The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile. |
| |
| [#EDMUND is borne off] |
| |
| [Re-enter #KING #LEAR, with #CORDELIA dead in his arms; |
| #EDGAR, #Captain, and others following] |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones: |
| Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so |
| That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever! |
| I know when one is dead, and when one lives; |
| She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass; |
| If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, |
| Why, then she lives. |
| |
| #KENT Is this the promised end |
| |
| #EDGAR Or image of that horror? |
| |
| #ALBANY Fall, and cease! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, |
| It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows |
| That ever I have felt. |
| |
| #KENT [Kneeling] O my good master! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Prithee, away. |
| |
| #EDGAR 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! |
| I might have saved her; now she's gone for ever! |
| Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! |
| What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft, |
| Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman. |
| I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee. |
| |
| #Captain 'Tis true, my lords, he did. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Did I not, fellow? |
| I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion |
| I would have made them skip: I am old now, |
| And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? |
| Mine eyes are not o' the best: I'll tell you straight. |
| |
| #KENT If fortune brag of two she loved and hated, |
| One of them we behold. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent? |
| |
| #KENT The same, |
| Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius? |
| |
| #KING #LEAR He's a good fellow, I can tell you that; |
| He'll strike, and quickly too: he's dead and rotten. |
| |
| #KENT No, my good lord; I am the very man,-- |
| |
| #KING #LEAR I'll see that straight. |
| |
| #KENT That, from your first of difference and decay, |
| Have follow'd your sad steps. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR You are welcome hither. |
| |
| #KENT Nor no man else: all's cheerless, dark, and deadly. |
| Your eldest daughters have fordone them selves, |
| And desperately are dead. |
| |
| #KING #LEAR Ay, so I think. |
| |
| #ALBANY He knows not what he says: and vain it is |
| That we present us to him. |
| |
| #EDGAR Very bootless. |
| |
| [Enter a #Captain] |
| |
| #Captain Edmund is dead, my lord. |
| |
| #ALBANY That's but a trifle here. |
| You lords and noble friends, know our intent. |
| What comfort to this great decay may come |
| Shall be applied: for us we will resign, |
| During the life of this old majesty, |
| To him our absolute power: |
| |
| [To #EDGAR and #KENT] |
| |
| you, to your rights: |
| With boot, and such addition as your honours |
| Have more than merited. All friends shall taste |
| The wages of their virtue, and all foes |
| The cup of their deservings. O, see, see! |
| |
| #KING #LEAR And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life! |
| Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, |
| And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, |
| Never, never, never, never, never! |
| Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir. |
| Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips, |
| Look there, look there! |
| |
| [Dies] |
| |
| #EDGAR He faints! My lord, my lord! |
| |
| #KENT Break, heart; I prithee, break! |
| |
| #EDGAR Look up, my lord. |
| |
| #KENT Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him much |
| That would upon the rack of this tough world |
| Stretch him out longer. |
| |
| #EDGAR He is gone, indeed. |
| |
| #KENT The wonder is, he hath endured so long: |
| He but usurp'd his life. |
| |
| #ALBANY Bear them from hence. Our present business |
| Is general woe. |
| |
| [To #KENT and #EDGAR] |
| |
| Friends of my soul, you twain |
| Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain. |
| |
| #KENT I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; |
| My master calls me, I must not say no. |
| |
| #ALBANY The weight of this sad time we must obey; |
| Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. |
| The oldest hath borne most: we that are young |
| Shall never see so much, nor live so long. |
| |
| [Exeunt, with a dead march] |