[ DRAMATIS PERSONS
¶LEAR, King of Britain. Doctor.
KING OF FRANCE. Fool.
¶DUKE OF BURGUNDY. OSWALD, steward to Goneril.DUKE OF CORNWALL. A Captain employed by Edmund.DUKE OF ALBANY. Gentleman attendant on Cordelia.
EARL OF KENT. A Herald.Earl of Gloucester.
¶EDGAR, son to Gloucester. Servants to Cornwall.EDMUND, bastard son to Gloucester.CURAN, a courtier. GONERIL, \Old Man, tenant to Gloucester. REGAN, V daughters to Lear.
Cordelia, /
¶Knights of Lear's train, Captains, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants
Scene: Britain]Act I
¶SCENE I. [King Lear's palace]
Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND
¶Kent I of the kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most; THOUGHT the King had more affected than Cornwall. Glou. It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division 1 the Duke of Albany for qualities 2 are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety. 3
¶Kent. Is not this your son, my lord?
¶Glou. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am braz'd 4 to't.
¶Kent. I cannot conceive you.
¶Glou. Sir, this young fellow's mother could; whereupon she grew round-womb'd, and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?
p. 216¶Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper. 5
¶Glou. But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. 6 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 ?
¶Edm. No , my lord.
¶Glou. My Lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.
¶Edm. My services to your lordship.
¶Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better.
¶Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving.
¶Glou. He hath been out 7 nine years, and away he shall again. The King is coming.
¶Sennet? Enter one bearing a coronet, then KING LEAR, then the
¶DUKES OF ALBANY and CORNWALL, next GONERIL, REGAN, COR
¶DELIA, with followersLear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.Glou. I shall, my lord. Exeunt [GLOUCESTER and EDMUND],Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.Give me the map there. Know that we have dividedIn three our kingdom; and 'tis our fast intentTo shake all cares and business from our age,Conferring them on younger strengths, while weUnburden'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 publishOur daughters' several dowers, that future strifeMay 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,—[217]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 extendWhere nature doth with merit challenge? 9 Goneril,Our eldest-born, speak first.Gon. Sir, I love you more than word 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 lov'd, or father found;A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable:Beyond all manner of so much I love you.Cor. [Aside.] What shall Cordelia speak? Love and be silent,Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,With shadowy forests and with champains 1 0 rich'd,With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issuesBe this perpetual. What says our second daughter,Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall ? Speak.Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister,And prize me at her worth. In my true heartI find she names my very deed of love;Only she comes too short, that I professMyself an enemy to all other joysWhich the most precious square of sense 1 1 possesses;And find I am alone felicitateIn your dear Highness' love.Cor. [Aside.] Then poor Cordelia!And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love'sMore ponderous than my tongue.Lear. To thee and thine hereditary everRemain this ample third of our fair kingdom;No less in space, validity, and pleasure,Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now , our joy,[218]Although our last and least, to whose young love 1 2The vines of France and milk of BurgundyStrive to be interess'd, 1 3 what can you say to drawA third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.Cor. Nothing, my lord.Lear. Nothing!Cor. Nothing.Lear. Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heaveMy heart into my mouth. I love your MajestyAccording to my bond; no more nor less.Lear. How, how, Cordelia! Mend your speech a little,Lest you may mar your fortunes.Cor. Good my lord,You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: IReturn those duties back as are right fit;Obey you, love you, and most honour you.Why have my sisters husbands, if they sayThey love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carryHalf my love with him, half my care and duty.Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters[To love my father all].Lear. But goes thy heart with this ?Cor. Ay , my good lord.Lear. So young, and so untender?Cor. So young, my lord, and true.Lear. Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower!For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;By all the operation of the orbsFrom whom we do exist, and cease to be;Here I disclaim all my paternal care,Propinquity and property 1 4 of blood,And as a stranger to my heart and me[219]Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,Or he that makes his generation messes 1 5To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosomBe as well neighbour'd, piti'd, and reliev'd,As thou my sometime daughter.Kent. Good my liege,—Lear. Peace, Kent!Come not between the dragon and his wrath.I lov'd her most, and thought to set my restOn her kind nursery. 1 6 [To COR.] Hence, and avoid my sight!-So be my grave my peace, as here I giveHer father's heart from her! Call France.—Who stirs?Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,With my two daughters' dowers digest the third;Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.I do invest you jointly with my power,Pre-eminence, and all the large effectsThat troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,With reservation of an hundred knights,By you to be sustain'd, shall our abodeMake with you by due turn. Only we shall retainThe name, and all the addition" to a king;The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,This coronet part between you.Kent. Royal Lear,Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,As my great patron thought on in my prayers,—Lear. The bow is bent and drawn; make from the shaft.Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invadeThe region of my heart: be Kent unmannerlyWhen Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man ?Thinkst thou that duty shall have dread to speak,When power to flattery bows ? To plainness honour's bound,When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state;[220]And, in thy best consideration, checkThis hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement,Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;Nor are those empty-hearted whose low soundsReverb 1 8 no hollowness.Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more.Kent. My life I never held but as a pawnTo wage against thy enemies, ne'er fear to lose it.Thy safety being motive.Lear. Out of my sight!Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remainThe true blank 1 9 of thine eye.Lear. Now , by Apollo,—Kent. Now , by Apollo, king,Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.Lear. O, vassal! miscreant![Laying his hand on his sword.]
p. 220¶i lb- \ Dear sir, forbear.Corn. )Kent. Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestowUpon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift;Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,I'll tell thee thou dost evil.Lear. Hear me, recreant!On thine allegiance, hear me!That thou hast sought to make us break our vows,Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd prideTo come betwixt our sentences 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 provisionTo shield thee from disasters of the world;And on the sixth to turn thy hated backUpon our kingdom. If, on the tenth day following,Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,[221]The moment is thy death. Away ! By Jupiter,This shall not be revok'd.Kent. Fare thee well, king! Sith thus thou wilt appear,Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.[To CORDELIA.] The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said![To REGAN and GONERIL.] And your large speeches may your deedsapprove,That good effects may spring from words of love.Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;He'll shape his old course in a country new. Exit.
p. 221¶Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with FRANCE, BURGUNDY, andAttendantsGlou. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.Lear. My Lord of Burgundy,We first address toward you, who with this kingHath rivall'd for our daughter. What, in the least.Will you require in present dower with her,Or cease your quest of love?Bur. Most royal Majesty,I crave no more than what your Highness off er'd,Nor will you tender less.Lear. Right noble Burgundy,When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands:If aught within that little-seeming substance,Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd,And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,She's there, and she is yours.Bur. I know no answer.Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she owes, 2 0Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,Take her, or leave her?
¶*° Owns.[222]Bur. Pardon me, royal sir;Election makes not up 2 1 in such conditions.Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,I tell you all her wealth. [To FRANCE.] For you, great king,I would not from your love make such a stray,To match you where I hate; therefore beseech youTo avert your liking a more worthier wayThan on a wretch whom Nature is asham'dAlmost to acknowledge hers.France. This is most strange,That she, whom even but now was your best object,The argument 2 2 of your praise, balm of your age,The best, the dearest, should in this trice of timeCommit a thing so monstrous, to dismantleSo many folds of favour. Sure, her offenceMust be of such unnatural degree,That monsters 2 3 it, or your fore-vouch'd affectionFallen into taint; which to believe of her,Must be a faith that reason without miracleShould never plant in me.Cor. I yet beseech your Majesty,—If for I want that glib and oily art,To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,I'll do ' t before I speak,— that you make knownIt is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,No unchaste action, or dishonoured step,That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour;But even for want of that for which I am richer,A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongueThat I am glad I have not, though not to have itHath lost me in your liking.Lear. Better thouHadst not been born than not to have pleas'd me better.France. Is it but this,—a tardiness in natureWhich often leaves the history 2 4 unspokeThat it intends to do ? My Lord of Burgundy,[223]What say you to the lady ? Love's not loveWhen it is mingled with regards 2 5 that standAloof from the entire point. Will you have her?She is herself a dowry.Bur. Royal king,Give but that portion which yourself propos'd,And here I take Cordelia by the hand,Duchess of Burgundy.Lear. Nothing. I have sworn; I am firm.Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a fatherThat you must lose a husband.Cor. Peace be with Burgundy!Since that respect and fortunes are his love,I shall not be his wife.France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor,Most choice forsaken, and most lov'd despis'd!Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon,Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglectMy love should kindle to inflam'd 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 BurgundyCan buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind;Thou losest here, a better where 2 6 to find.Lear. Thou hast her, France. Let her be thine; for weHave no such daughter, nor shall ever seeThat face of hers again.—[To COR.] Therefore be goneWithout our grace, our love, our benison. 2 7—Come, noble Burgundy.
p. 223¶Flourish. Exeunt [all but FRANCE, GONERIL,
REGAN, and CORDELIA].
¶France. Bid farewell to your sisters.Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyesCordelia leaves you. I know you what you are;[224]And like a sister am most loath to callYour faults as they are named. Love well our father,To your professed 2 8 bosoms I commit him;But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,I would prefer 2 9 him to a better place.So, farewell to you both.Reg. Prescribe not us our duty.Gon. Let your studyBe to content your lord, who hath receiv'd youAt fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,And well are worth 3 0 the want that you have wanted.Cor. Time shall unfold what plighted 3 1 cunning hides;Who covers faults, at last shame them derides.Well may you prosper!France. Come, my fair Cordelia.
p. 224¶Exeunt [FRANCE and CORDELIA].
¶Gon. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night.
¶Reg. That's most certain, and with you; next month with us.
¶Gon. You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little. He always lov'd our sister most; and with what poor judgement he hath now cast her off appears too
¶grossly. 3 2
¶Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.
¶Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look from his age to receive not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition, 3 3 but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.
¶Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent's banishment.
¶Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you, let us hit together; if our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.
¶SCENE II. [The Earl of Gloucester's castle]
¶Enter Bastard [EDMUND with a letter]Edm. Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy lawMy services are bound. Wherefore should IStand in the plague of custom, and permitThe curiosity 1 of nations to deprive me,For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshinesLag of 2 a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base?When my dimensions are as well compact,My mind as generous, 3 and my shape as true,As honest madam's issue? Why brand they usWith base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, takeMore composition* and fierce qualityThan 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 EdmundAs to the legitimate. Fine word, "legitimate"!Well, my legitimate, if this letter speedAnd my invention thrive, Edmund the baseShall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper.Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
Enter GLOUCESTER
¶Glou. Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted!And the King gone to-night! subscrib'd 5 his power!Confin'd to exhibition! 6 All this doneUpon the gad! 7 Edmund, how now! what news?
p. 226¶Edm. So please your lordship, none. [Putting up the letter.] Glou. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter ?
¶Edm. I know no news, my lord.
¶Glou. What paper were you reading?
¶Edm. Nothing, my lord.
¶Glou. No ? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.
¶Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read; and for -so much as I have perus'd, I find it not fit for your o'er-looking.
¶Glou. Give me the letter, sir.
¶Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.
¶Glou. Let's see, let's see.
¶Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay 8 or taste of my virtue.
¶Glou. (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 suffer'd. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I wak'd him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother,
Edgar."
¶Hum—conspiracy!—"Sleep till I wake him, you should enjoy half his revenue!"—My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain to breed it in?—When came this to you? Who brought it?
¶Edm. It was not brought me, my lord; there's the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.
¶Glou. You know the character to be your brother's?
¶Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.
¶Glou. It is his.
¶'Trial.
p. 227¶Edm. It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in the contents.
¶Glou. Has he never before sounded you in this business?
¶Edm. Never, my lord; but I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declin'd, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.
¶Glou. 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 ?
¶Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, and to no other pretence of danger.
¶Glou. Think you so?
¶Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and that without any further delay than this very evening.
¶Glou. He cannot be such a monster—
¶[Edm. Nor is not, sure.
¶Glou. 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 9 myself, to be in a due resolution. 1 0
¶Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently; 1 1 convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.
¶Glou. 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 scourg'd by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond crack'd 'twixt son [228]and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father; the King falls from bias of nature; 1 2 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 banish'd! his offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.
¶Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune,—often the surfeits 1 3 of our own behaviour,—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains on necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforc'd obedience of planetary influence, and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa Major; so that it follows, I am rough and lecherous. Fut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar—
¶Enter EDGAR
¶and pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy. My cue is villanous melancholy, with a sigh like To m o' Bedlam 1 4—O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.
¶Edg. How now, brother Edmund! what serious contemplation are you in?
¶Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.
¶Edg. Do you busy yourself with that?
¶Edm. 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, 15 banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches and I know not [229]what. Edg. How long have you been a sectary astronomical? 1 6
p. 229¶Edm. Come, come;] when saw you my father last?
¶Edg. [Why,] the night gone by.
¶Edm. Spake you with him?
¶Edg. Ay, two hours together.
¶Edm. Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word nor countenance?
¶Edg. None at all.
¶Edm. Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him; and at my entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay. Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong.
¶Edm. That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent 1 7 forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray ye, go; there's my key. If you do stir abroad, go arm'd. Edg. Arm'd, brother!
¶Edm. Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed; I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I have seen and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it. Pray you, away.
¶Edg. Shall I hear from you anon?
¶Edm. 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 practices 1 8 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.
¶SCENE III. [The Du\e of Albany's palace]
¶Enter GONERIL, and [OSWALD, her] Steward
¶Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his Fool ? Osw. Ay, madam.
p. 230¶Gon. By day and night he wrongs me; every hourHe flashes into one gross crime or otherThat sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it.His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids usOn 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.Osw. He's coming, madam; I hear him. {Horns within.]Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question. 1If he distaste 2 it, let him to my sister,Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,[Not to be over-rul'd. Idle old man,That still would manage those authoritiesThat he hath given away! Now , by my life,Old fools are babes again, and must be us'dWith checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd.]Remember what I have said.Osw. Well, madam.Gon. 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.
¶SCENE I V . [A hall in the same]
¶Enter KENT [disguised]Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow,That can my speech defuse, 3 my good intentMay carry through itself to that full issueFor which I raz'd my likeness. 4 Now , banish'd Kent,If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st,Shall find thee full of labours.[231]Horns within. Enter LEAR, [Knights] and AttendantsLear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. [Exit anattendant^] How now! what art thou ?Kent. A man, sir.Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him trulythat will put me in trust; to love him that is honest; to conversewith him that is wise and says little; to fear judgement; to fightwhen I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.Lear. What art thou?Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king, thouart poor enough. What wouldst thou?Kent. Service.Lear. Who wouldst thou serve?Kent. You.Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow ?Kent. No , sir; but you have that in your countenance which Iwould fain call master.Lear. What's that?Kent. Authority.Lear. What services canst thou do?Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious1 tale intelling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which ordinarymen are fit for, I am qualified in; and the best of me is diligence.Lear. How old art thou ?Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so oldto dote on her for anything. I have years on my back forty-eight.Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no worseafter 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 Steward [OSWALD]You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?Osw. So please you,— Exit.
p. 232¶Lear. What says the fellow there ? Call the clotpoll 6 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.
¶Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I call'd him?
¶Knight. Sir, he answered me in the roundest 7 manner, he would not.
¶Lear. He would not!
¶Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my judgement, your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection as you were wont. There's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himself also and your daughter.
¶Lear. Ha! say'st thou so?
¶Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent when I think your Highness wrong'd.
¶Lear. Thou but rememb'rest me of mine own conception. I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity 8 than as a very pretence 9 and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into 't. But where's my Fool? I have not seen him this two days.
¶Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the Fool hath much pined away.
¶Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with her. [Exit an Attendant.] Go you, call hither my Fool. [Exit an Attendant.]
¶Re-enter Steward [OSWALD]
¶O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?
¶Osw. My lady's father.
¶Lear. "My lady's father"! My lord's knave! You whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!
¶Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.
¶Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? [Striking [233]him.] Osw. I'll not be struck, my lord.
p. 233¶Kent. Nor tripp'd neither, you base foot-ball player.
¶[Tripping up his heels.] Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee.
¶Kent. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences. 1 0 Away, away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry; but away! go to. Have you wisdom? So. [Pushes OSWALD out.]
¶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.]
¶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, anthou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly.There, take my coxcomb. Why , this fellow has banish'd two on ' sdaughters, and did the third a blessing against his will; if thou followhim, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.—How now, nuncle! WouldI had two coxcombs and two daughters!Lear. Why, my boy?Fool. If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my coxcombs myself.There's mine; beg another of thy daughters.Lear. Take heed, sirrah; the whip.Fool. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out, whenLady the brach 1 1 may stand by the fire and stink.Lear. A pestilent gall to me!Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.Lear. Do.Fool. Mark it, nuncle:"Have more than thou showest,Speak less than thou knowest,Lend less than thou owest,Ride more than thou goest, 1 2
¶10/. e. of rank. 1 1 Hound. 12Walkest.[234]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 moreThan two tens to a score."Kent. This is nothing, Fool.Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you gave menothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle ?Lear. Why , no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.Fool. [To KENT . ] Prithee, tell him so much the rent of his landcomes to. He will not believe a fool.Lear. A bitter fool!Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fooland a sweet one ?Lear. No , lad; teach me.[Fool. "That lord that counsell'd theeTo give away thy land,Come place him here by me,Do thou for him stand:The sweet and bitter foolWill presently appear;The one in motley here,The other found out there."Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy ?Fool. All thy other tides thou hast given away; that thou wastborn with.Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord.Fool. No , faith, lords and great men will not let me; if I had amonopoly out, they would have part on 't. And ladies, too, theywill not let me have all the fool to myself; they'll be snatching.]Nuncle, give me an egg, and I'll give thee two crowns.Lear. What two crowns shall they be ?Fool. Why , after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat up themeat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i'the middle, and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine ass on thyback o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when[235]thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in this, lethim be whipp'd that first finds it so."Fools had ne'er less grace in a year;For wise men are grown foppish,And know not how their wits to wear,Their manners are so apish."Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?Fool. I have used it, nuncle, e'er since thou mad'st thy daughtersthy mothers; for when thou gav'st them the rod, and puttest downthine own breeches,"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.Lear. An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd.Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They'll haveme whipp'd for speaking true, thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying;and sometimes I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather beany 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
¶Lear. How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet 1 3 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 G ON . ] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,
¶"He that keeps nor crust nor crumb,
¶Weary of all, shall want some."
¶[Pointing to LEAR.] That's a sheal'd 1 4 peascod.
p. 236¶Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd Fool,But other of your insolent retinueDo hourly carp 1 5 and quarrel, breaking forthIn 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 1 0By your allowance; which if you should, the faultWould not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,Which, in the tender 1 7 of a wholesome weal,Might in their working do you that offence,Which else were shame, that then necessityWill call discreet proceeding.Fool. For, you know, nuncle,"The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,That it had it head bit off by it young."So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. 1 8Lear. Are you our daughter?Gon. [Come, sir,]I would you would make use of your good wisdom,Whereof I know you are fraught, 1 9 and put awayThese dispositions, which of late transport youFrom what you rightly are.Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse?"Whoop, Jug! I love thee."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 discerningsAre lethargied—Ha! waking? 'Tis not so.Who is it that can tell me who I am ?Fool. Lear's shadow.[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.]Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman ?[237]Gon. This admiration, 2 0 sir, is much o' the savourOf other your new pranks. I do beseech youTo 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 2 1 and bold,That this our court, infected with their manners,Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism 2 2 and lustMakes it more like a tavern or a brothelThan a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speakFor instant remedy. Be then desir'dBy her, that else will take the thing she begs,A little to disquantity 2 3 your train;And the remainders, that shall still depend,To be such men as may besort 2 4 your age,Which know themselves and you.Lear. Darkness and devils!Saddle my horses; call my train together!Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee;Yet have I left a daughter.Gon. You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabbleMake servants of their betters.
¶Lear. Woe, that too late repents!—[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 childThan the sea-monster!Alb. Pray, sir, be patient.Lear. [To GON.] 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 supportThe worships 2 5 of their name. O most small fault,[238]How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!Which, like an engine, 2 6 wrench'd my frame of natureFrom the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love,And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, [Striding his head.\And thy dear judgement out! Go, go, my people.Alb. My lord, I am guiltless as I am ignorantOf what hath moved you.Lear. It may be so, my lord.Hear, Nature! hear, dear goddess, hear!Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intendTo make this creature fruitful!Into her womb convey sterility!Dry up in her the organs of increase,And from her derogate 2 7 body never springA babe to honour her! If she must teem, 2 8Create her child of spleen, that it may liveAnd be a thwart 2 9 disnatur'd torment to her!Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,With cadent 3 0 tears fret channels in her cheeks,Turn all her mother's pains and benefitsTo laughter and contempt, that she may feelHow sharper than a serpent's tooth it isTo have a thankless child!—Away, away! Exit.Alb. Now , gods that we adore, whereof comes this?Gon. Never afflict yourself to know more of it;But let his disposition have that scopeAs dotage gives it.
¶Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap!Within a fortnight!Alb. What's the matter, sir?Lear. I'll tell thee. [To G ON . ] Life and death! I am asham'dThat thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,[239]Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!The untented 3 1 woundings of a father's cursePierce every sense about thee! Old fond 3 2 eyes,Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,And cast you, with the waters that you loose,To temper clay. Ha! [is it come to this?]Let it be so: I have another daughter,Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable.When she shall hear this of thee, with her nailsShe'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt findThat I'll resume the shape which thou dost thinkI have cast off for ever. [Thou shalt, I warrant thee.]
p. 239¶[Exeunt LEAR, KENT , and Attendants.]
¶Gon. Do you mark that ?Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,To the great love I bear you,—Gon. Pray you, content.—What, Oswald, ho![To the Fool.] You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master.Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the Fool with thee.A fox, when one has caught her,And such a daughter,Should sure to the slaughter,If my cap would buy a halter.So the Fool follows after. Exit.Gon. This man hath had good counsel,—a hundred knights!'Tis politic and safe to let him keepAt point 3 3 a hundred knights; yes, that, on every dream,Each buzz, 3 4 each fancy, each complaint, dislike,He may enguard his dotage with their powers,And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!Alb. Well, you may fear too far.Gon. Safer than trust too far.Let me still take away the harms I fear,Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart.What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister.[240]If she sustain him and his hundred knights,When I have show'd the unfitness,—
p. 240¶Re-enter Steward [OSWALD]How now, Oswald!What, have you writ that letter to my sister?Osw. Ay , madam.Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse.Inform her full of my particular fear;And thereto add such reasons of your ownAs may compact 3 5 it more. Get you gone;And hasten your return. [Exit OSWALD.] N O , no, my lord,This milky gentleness and course of yoursThough I condemn not, yet, under pardon,You are much more at task 3 6 for want of wisdomThan prais'd for harmful mildness.Alb. How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.Gon. Nay, then—Alb. Well, well; the event. Exeunt.
¶SCENE V . [Court before the same]
¶Enter LEAR, KENT , and Fool
¶Lear. Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you.
¶Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter.
¶Exit.
¶Fool. If a man's brains were in ' s heels, were ' t not in danger of kibes? 1
¶Lear. Ay, boy.
¶Fool. Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall not go slip-shod.
¶Lear. Ha, ha, ha!
p. 241¶Fool. Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly;1 for thoughshe's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell what I cantell.Lear. What canst tell, boy ?Fool. She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thoucanst tell why one's nose stands i' the middle on ' s face?Lear. No .Fool. Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose, that what aman cannot smell out, he may spy into.Lear. I did her wrong—Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?Lear. No .Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.Lear. Why ?Fool. Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to his daughters,and leave his horns without a case.Lear. I will forget my nature. So kind a father! Be my horsesready?Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the sevenstars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.Lear. Because they are not eight?Fool. Yes, indeed. Thou wouldst make a good Fool.Lear. To take't again perforce!2 Monster ingratitude!Fool. If thou wert my Fool, nuncle, I'd have thee beaten for beingold before thy time.Lear. How's that?Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!Keep me in temper; I would not be mad![Enter Gentleman]How now! are the horses ready?Gent. Ready, my lord.Lear. Come, boy.Fool. She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter. Exeunt.
Act II
¶SCENE I. [The Earl of Gloucester's castle]
¶Enter Bastard [EDMUND] and CURAN, severally
¶Edm. Save thee, Curan.Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given himnotice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will behere with him this night.Edm. How comes that?Cur. Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad; Imean the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments ?'Edm. Not I. Pray you, what are they?Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 2 'twixt the Dukesof Cornwall and Albany?Edm. Not a word.Cur. You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. Exit.Edm. The Duke be here to-night? The better! best!This weaves itself perforce into my business.My father hath set guard to take my brother;And I have one thing, of a queasy question, 3Which I must act. Briefness 4 and fortune, work!
¶Enter EDGAR
¶Brother, a word; descend. Brother, I say!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 saidUpon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?Advise yourself. 5Edg. I am sure on ' t , not a word.Edm. I hear my father coming. Pardon me,[243]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 drunkardsDo more than this in sport.—Father, father!—Stop, stop!—No help?
p. 243¶Enter GLOUCESTER, and Servants with torchesGlou. Now, Edmund, where's the villain?Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moonTo stand auspicious mistress,—Glou. But where is he?Edm. Look, sir, I bleed.Glou. Where is the villain, Edmund?Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could—Glou. Pursue him, ho! Go after. [Exeunt some Servants.] By nomeans what?Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;But that I told him, the revenging gods'Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend;Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bondThe child was bound to the father; sir, in fine,Seeing how loathly opposite I stoodTo his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, 6With his prepared sword, he charges homeMy unprovided body, latch'd 7 mine arm;And when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter,Or whether gasted 8 by the noise I made,Full suddenly he fled.Glou. Let him fly far.Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;And found,—dispatch. The noble Duke my master,[244]My worthy arch 9 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.Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent,And found him pight 1 0 to do it, with curst speechI threaten'd to discover 1 1 him; he replied,"Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think,If I would stand against thee, would the reposalOf any trust, virtue, or worth in theeMake thy words faith'd? 1 2 No ! what I should deny,—As this I would; ay, though thou didst produceMy very character, 1 3—I'd turn it allTo thy suggestion, 1 4 plot, and damned practice;And thou must make a dullard of the world 1 5If they not thought the profits of my deathWere very pregnant and potential spurs 1 6To make thee seek it."Glou. O strange and fast'ned 1 7 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 pictureI will send far and near, that all the kingdomMay have due note of him; and of my land,Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the meansTo make thee capable. 1 8
¶Corn. How now, my noble friend! since I came hither,Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news.Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too shortWhich can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord?Glou. O , madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd!
¶9Chief. 10Resolved. 1 1 Reveal. 1 2 Believed. 1 3 Handwriting. "Tempting.
p. 245¶Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life?He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar?Glou. O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knightsThat tended upon my father?Glou. I know not, madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad.Edm. Yes, madam, he was of that consort. 1 9Reg. No marvel, then, though he were ill affected: 2 0'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 sisterBeen well inform'd of them; and with such cautions,That if they come to sojourn at my house,I'll not be there.Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan.Edmund, I hear that you have shown your fatherA child-like office.Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir.Glou. He did bewray his practice; 2 1 andreceiv'dThis hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.Corn. Is he pursued ?Glou. Ay , my good lord.Corn. If he be taken, he shall never moreBe fear'd of doing harm. Make your own purpose,How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,Whose virtue and obedience doth this instantSo much commend itself, you shall be ours.Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;You we first seize on.Edm. I shall serve you, sir,Truly, however else.Glou. For him I thank your Grace.Corn. You know not why we came to visit you,—Reg. Thus out of season, threading dark-ey'd night?Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, 2 2Wherein we must have use of your advice.[246]Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,Of differences, which I best thought it fitTo answer from 2 3 our home; the several messengersFrom hence attend dispatch. 2 4 Our good old friend,Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestowYour needful counsel to our businesses,Which craves the instant use.Glou. I serve you, madam.Your Graces are right welcome. Exeunt. Flourish.
¶Enter KENT and Steward [OSWALD], severally
¶Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house?Kent. Ay .Osw. Where may we set our horses?Kent. I' the mire.Osw. Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me.Kent. I love thee not.Osw. Why, then, I care.not for thee.Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee carefor me.Osw. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.Kent. Fellow, I know thee.Osw. What dost thou know me for?Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,shallow, beggarly, three-suited, 1 hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing,superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting 2 slave; one thatwouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but thecomposition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son andheir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deni'st the least syllable of thy addition. 3Osw. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on onethat is neither known of thee nor knows thee!
p. 247¶Kent. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me! Is it two days since I tripp'd 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, you whoreson cullionly 4 barber-monger! 5 Draw! [Drawing his sword.] Osw. 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 6 your shanks,—draw, you rascal! Come your ways.
¶Osw. Help, ho! murder! help!
¶Kent. Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue, stand!
¶You neat slave, strike. [Beating him.]
¶Osw. Help, ho! murder! murder!
¶Enter Bastard [EDMUND] with his rapier drawn, CORNWALL, REGAN,
¶GLOUCESTER, and Servants
¶Edm. How now! What's the matter? Part.Kent. With you, goodman boy, 7 if you please.Come, I'll flesh 8 ye; come on, young master.Glou. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here?Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives!He dies that strikes again. What is the matter?Reg. The messengers from our sister and the King.Corn. What is your difference? Speak.Osw. I am scarce in breath, my lord.Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valour. You cowardly rascal, Nature disclaims in 9 thee. A tailor made thee.Corn. Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man?Kent. A tailor, sir. A stone-cutter or a painter could not havemade him so ill, though they had been but two years o' the trade.Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ?Osw. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd at suit ofhis grey beard,—Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary 1 0 letter! My lord,[248]if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted 1 1 villain intomortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard,you wagtail?Corn. Peace, sirrah!You beastly knave, know you no reverence ?Kent. Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege.Corn. Why art thou angry?Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword,Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twainWhich are too intrinse 1 2 to unloose; smooth every passionThat in the natures of their lords rebel;Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;Renege, 1 3 affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 1 4With 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'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow?Glou. How fell you out ? Say that.Kent. No contraries hold more antipathyThan I and such a knave.Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault?Kent. His countenance likes 1 5 me not.Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers.Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;I have seen better faces in my timeThan stands on any shoulder that I seeBefore me at this instant.Corn. This is some fellowWho, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affectA saucy roughness, and constrains the garb 1 6Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he;[249]An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth!An 1 7 they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainnessHarbour more craft and more corrupter endsThan twenty silly ducking observants 1 8That stretch their duties nicely. 1 9Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,Under the allowance of your great aspect,Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fireOn flickering Phoebus' front,—Corn. 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 beguil'd you in a plain accentwas a plain knave; which for my part I will not be, though I shouldwin your displeasure to entreat me to't.Corn. What was the offence you gave him?Osw. I never gave him any.It pleas'd the King his master very lateTo strike at me, upon his misconstruction;-When he, compact, 2 0 and flattering his displeasure,Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, 2 1 rail'd,And put upon him such a deal of man 2 2That ' t worthied 2 3 him, got praises of the KingFor him attempting 2 4 who was self-subdued;And, in the fleshment 25 of this dread exploit,Drew on me here again.Kent. None of these rogues and cowardsBut Ajax is their fool.Corn. 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 respects, show too bold malice[250]Against the grace and person of my master,Stocking his messenger.Corn. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour,There shall he sit till noon.Reg. Till noon! Till night, my lord; and all night too.Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,You should not use me so.Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will.Stocks brought out.Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour 2 6Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks!Glou. Let me beseech your Grace not to do so.[His fault is much, and the good King his masterWill check him for't. Your purpos'd low correctionIs such as basest and contemned'st wretchesFor pilferings and most common trespassesAre punish'd with.] The King must take it illThat he's so slightly valued in his messenger,Should have him thus restrained.Corn. I'll answer that.Reg. My sister may receive it much more worseTo have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,[For following her affairs. Put in his legs.][ KENT is put in the stocks.]Come, my good lord, away.
p. 250¶Exeunt [all but GLOUCESTER and KENT ] .
¶Glou. I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's pleasure,Whose disposition, all the world well knows,Will not be rubb'd 2 7 nor stopp'd. I'll entreat for thee.Kent. Pray, do not, sir. I have watch'd and travell'd hard;Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.A good man's fortune may grow out at heels.Give you good morrow!Glou. The Duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. Exit.Kent. Good King, that must approve 2 8 the common saw,Thou out of heaven's benediction corn'st[251]To the warm sun! 2 9Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,That by thy comfortable beams I mayPeruse this letter! Nothing, almost, sees miraclesBut misery. I know 'tis from Cordelia,Who hath most fortunately been inform'dOf my obscured 3 0 course; [reads] "—and shall find timeFrom this enormous 3 1 state—seeking to giveLosses their remedies."—All weary and o'erwatch'd,Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to beholdThis shameful lodging.Fortune, good-night! Smile once more; turn thy wheel! [Sleeps.]
¶Enter EDGAR
¶Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd;And by the happy hollow of a treeEscap'd the hunt. No port is free; no placeThat guard and most unusual vigilanceDoes not attend my taking. 1 Whiles I may scapeI will preserve myself, and am bethoughtTo take the basest and most poorest shapeThat ever penury, in contempt of man,Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth,Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots,And with presented nakedness out-faceThe winds and persecutions of the sky.The country gives me proof and precedentOf Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,Strike in their numb'd and mortified armsPins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;And with this horrible object, 3 from low farms,Poor pelting 4 villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,[252]Sometimes with lunatic bans, 5 sometimes with prayers,Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor To m !That's something yet. Edgar I nothing am. Exit.
¶Enter LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman. [KENT in the stocks]
¶Lear. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,And not send back my messengers.Gent. As I learn'd,The night before there was no purpose in themOf this remove.Kent. Hail to thee, noble master!Lear. Ha!Mak'st 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 thelegs. When a man's over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks. 1Lear. What's he that hath so much thy place mistookTo set thee here?Kent. It is both he and she;Your son and daughter.Lear. No.Kent. Yes.Lear. No , I say.Kent. I say, yea.[Lear. No, no, they would not.Kent. Yes, they have.]Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no.Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay.Lear. They durst not do't;They could not, would not do't. 'Tis worse than murder,To do upon respect 2 such violent outrage.[253]Resolve 3 me, with all modest haste, which wayThou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage,Coming from us.Kent. My lord, when at their homeI did commend 4 your Highness' letters to them,Ere I was risen from the place that show'dMy duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forthFrom Goneril, his mistress, salutations;Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, 5Which presently they read. On those contents,They summon'd up their meiny, 6 straight took horse;Commanded me to follow, and attendThe leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:And meeting here the other messenger,Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine,—Being the very fellow which of lateDisplay'd 7 so saucily against your Highness,—Having more man than wit about me, drew.He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries.Your son and daughter found this trespass worthThe shame which here it suffers.Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way."Fathers that wear ragsDo make their children blind;But fathers that bear bagsShall see their children kind.Fortune, that arrant whore,Ne'er turns the key to the poor."But, for 8 all this, thou shalt have as many dolours 9 for thy daughtersas thou canst tell 1 0 in a year.Lear. O, how this mother 1 1 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.[254]Follow me not;Exit.Gent. Made you no more offence but what you speak of?Kent. None.How chance the King comes with so small a number ?Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that question,thou'dst well deserv'd it.Kent. Why, Fool?Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's nolabouring i' the winter. All that follow their noses are led by theireyes but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty but cansmell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runsdown a hill, lest it break thy neck with following; but the greatone that goes upward, let him draw thee after. When a wise mangives thee better counsel, give me mine again; I would have none butknaves 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 learn'd you this, Fool ?Fool. Not i' the stocks, fool.Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick? They are weary?They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches; 1 2The images 1 3 of revolt and flying off.Fetch me a better answer.Glou. My dear lord,You know the fiery quality of the Duke;How unremovable and fix'd he isIn his own course.[255]Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!"Fiery"? What "quality"? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.Glou. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.Lear. "Inform'd" them! Dost thou understand me, man?Glou. Ay , my good lord.Lear. The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear fatherWould 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 officeWhereto our health is bound; we are not ourselvesWhen nature, being oppress'd, commands the mindTo suffer with the body. I'll forbear;And am fallen out with my more headier 1 4 will,To take the indispos'd and sickly fitFor the sound man.—Death on my state! wherefore[Looking on KENT . ]Should he sit here ? This act persuades meThat this remotion 1 5 of the Duke and herIs practice 1 6 only. Give me my servant forth.Go tell the Duke and's wife I'd speak with them,Now, presently. 1 7 Bid them come forth and hear me,Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drumTill it cry sleep to death.Glou. I would have all well betwixt you. Exit.Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart! But, down!Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when sheput 'em i' the paste alive; she knapp'd 'em o' the coxcombs with astick, and cried, "Down, wantons, down!" 'Twas her brother that,in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.
¶Lear. Good morrow to you both.Corn. Hail to your Grace![256]KENT is set at liberty.Reg. I am glad to see your Highness.Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what reasonI have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad,I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,Sepulchring an adulteress. [To KENT . ] O , are you free?Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,Thy sister's naught. O Regan, she hath tiedSharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here.[Points to his heart.]I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believeWith how deprav'd a quality—O Regan!Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hopeYou less know how to value her desertThan she to scant her duty.Lear. Say, how is that?Reg. I cannot think my sister in the leastWould fail her obligation. If, sir, perchanceShe have restrain'd the riots of your followers,'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,As clears her from all blame.Lear. My curses on her!Reg. O, sir, you are old;Nature in you stands on the very vergeOf her confine. You should be rul'd and ledBy some discretion that discerns your stateBetter than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,That to our sister you do make return;Say you have wrong'd her, sir.Lear. Ask her forgiveness?Do you but mark how this becomes the house:1 8"Dear daughter, I confess that I am old; [Kneeling.]Age is unnecessary. On my knees I begThat you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food."Reg. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks.Return you to my sister.[257]Lear. [Rising.] Never, Regan:She hath abated 1 9 me of half my train;Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,Most serpent-like, upon the very heart.All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fallOn her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,You taking 2 0 airs, with lameness!Corn. Fie, sir, fie!Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flamesInto her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,To fall 2 1 and blast her pride!Reg. O the blest gods! so will you wish on me,When the rash mood is on.Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse.Thy tender-hefted 2 2 nature shall not giveThee o'er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thineDo comfort and not burn. 'Tis not in theeTo grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 2 3And, in conclusion, to oppose the boltAgainst my coming in. Thou better know'The offices of nature, bond of childhood,Effects 2 4 of courtesy, dues of gratitude.Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,Wherein I thee endow'd.Reg. Good sir, to the purpose.Tucket withinLear. Who put my man i' the stocks?
p. 257¶Enter Steward [OSWALD]Corn. What trumpet's that?Reg. I know ' t ; my sister's. This approves 2 5 her letter,That she would soon be here. [To OSWALD.] IS your lady come?[258]Lear. This is a slave whose easy-borrowed prideDwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.Out, varlet, from my sight!Corn. What means your Grace?
p. 258¶Enter GONERILLear. Who stock'd my servant ? Regan, I have good hopeThou didst not know on't. Who comes here? O heavens,If you do love old men, if your sweet swayAllow 2 6 obedience, if you yourselves are old,Make it your cause; send down, and take my part![To G ON . ] Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?0 Regan, will you take her by the hand ?Gon. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?All's not offence that indiscretion findsAnd dotage terms so.Lear. O sides, you are too tough;Will you yet hold? How came my man i' the stocks?Corn. I set him there, sir; but his own disordersDeserv'd much less advancement.Lear. You ! did you?Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem soIf, 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 provisionWhich shall be needful for your entertainment.Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd!No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chooseTo wage 2 7 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 tookOur youngest born, I could as well be broughtTo knee 2 8 his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg[259]To keep base life afoot. Return with her?Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 2 9To this detested groom. [Pointing at OSWALD.]Gon. At your choice, sir.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 3 0 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.Reg. Not altogether so;I look'd not for you yet, nor am providedFor your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;For those that mingle reason with your passionMust be content to think you old, and so—But she knows what she does.Lear. Is this well spoken?Reg. I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers!Is it not well? What should you need of more?Yea, or so many, sith that both charge 3 1 and dangerSpeak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house,Should many people, under two commands,Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible.Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendanceFrom those that she calls servants or from mine?Reg. Why not, my lord ? If then they chanc'd to slack ye, 3 2We could control them. If you will come to me,—[260]For now I spy a danger—I entreat youTo bring but five and twenty; to no moreWill I give place or notice.Lear. I gave you all.Reg. And in good time you gave it.Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; 3 3But kept a reservation to be followedWith such a number. What, must I come to youWith five and twenty, Regan ? Said you so ?Reg. And speak't again, my lord; no more with me.Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'dWhen others are more wicked; not being the worstStands in some rank of praise. [To G ON . ] I'll go with thee.Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,And thou art twice her love.Gon. Hear me, my lord:What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,To follow in a house where twice so manyHave a command to tend you?Reg. What need one?Lear. O, reason not the need! Our basest beggarsAre in the poorest thing superfluous.Allow 3 4 not nature more than nature needs,Man's life is 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 stirs these daughters' heartsAgainst their father, fool me not so muchTo 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[261]That all the world shall—I will do such things,—What they are, yet I know not; but they shall beThe terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep:No, I'll not weep.I have full cause of weeping; but this heart Storm and tempest.Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 3 5Or ere I'll weep. O, Fool! I shall go mad!
Exeunt LEAR, GLOUCESTER, KENT,
¶and Fool.Corn. Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm.Reg. This house is little; the old man and's peopleCannot be well bestow'd. 3 6Gon. 'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest,And must needs taste his folly.Reg. For his particular, 3 7 I'll receive him gladly,But not one follower.Gon. So am I purpos'd.Where is my Lord of Gloucester ?
¶Re-enter GLOUCESTERCorn. Followed the old man forth. He is return'd.Glou. The King is in high rage.Corn. Whither is he going?Glou. He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.Glou. Alack, the night comes on, and the high windsDo sorely ruffle; 38 for many miles aboutThere's scarce a bush.Reg. O, sir, to wilful men,The injuries that they themselves procureMust be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors.He is attended with a desperate train;And what they may incense him to, being aptTo have his ear abus'd, 3 9 wisdom bids fear.[262]Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night:My Regan counsels well. Come out o' the storm. [Exeunt.
Act III
¶SCENE I. [The open country near Gloucester's castle]
¶Storm still. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, severally
¶Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather?Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly.Kent. I know you. Where's the King?Gent. Contending with the fretful elements;Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, 1That 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-scornThe to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.This night, wherein the cub-drawn 2 bear would couch,The lion and the belly-pinched wolfKeep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,And bids what will take all.]Kent. But who is with him?Gent. None but the Fool; who labours to outjestHis heart-struck injuries.Kent. Sir, I do know you;And dare, upon the warrant of my note, 3Commend a dear 4 thing to you. There is division,Although as yet the face of it is cover'dWith mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;Who have—as who have not, that their great stars 5Thron'd and set high?—servants, who seem no less,Which are to France the spies and speculations 8Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,[263]Either in snuffs 7 and packings 8 of the Dukes,Or the hard rein which both of them have borneAgainst the old kind king, or something deeper,Whereof perchance these are but furnishings; 9[But, true it is, from France there comes a power 1 0Into this scattered 1 1 kingdom; who already,Wise in our negligence, have secret feetIn some of our best ports, and are at point 1 2To show their open banner. Now to you:If on my credit you dare build so farTo make your speed to Dover, you shall findSome that will thank you, making just reportOf how unnatural and bemadding 1 3 sorrowThe King hath cause to plain.I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;And, from some knowledge and assurance, offerThis office to you.]Gent. I will talk further with you.Kent. No , do not.For confirmation that I am much moreThan my out-wall, 1 4 open this purse, and takeWhat it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,—As fear not but you shall,—show her this ring;And she will tell you who that fellow isThat yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!I will go seek the King.Gent. Give me your hand. Have you no more to say ?Kent. Few words, but, to effect, 1 5 more than all yet;That, when we have found the King,—in which your pain 1 6That way, I'll this—he that first lights on himHolla the other. Exeunt [severally].[264]SCENE II. [The same.] Storm still
¶Lear. Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!You cataracts and hurricanoes, spoutTill you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!You sulphurous and thought-executing" fires,Vaunt-couriers 1 8 of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!Crack nature's moulds, all germens 1 9 spill 2 0 at once,That makes ingrateful man!Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water 2 1 in a dry house is better than thisrain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in; ask thy daughters' blessing.Here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools.Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain!Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters.I tax 2 2 not you, you elements, with unkindness;I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children;You owe me no subscription. 2 3 Then let fallYour horrible pleasure. Here I stand, your slave,A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man;But yet I call you servile ministers,That will with two pernicious daughters joinYour high engender'd battles 2 4 'gainst a headSo old and white as this. Oh ! Oh! 'tis foul!Fool. He that has a house to put's head in has a good head-piece."The cod-piece that will houseBefore the head has any, ^The head and he shall louse;So beggars marry many.The man that makes his toeWhat he his heart should make[265]Shall of a corn cry woe,And turn his sleep to wake." 2 5For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
p. 265¶Enter KENThear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.Kent. Who's there?Fool. Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise man and afool.Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love nightLove not such nights as these; the wrathful skiesGallow 2 6 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 neverRemember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carryThe affliction nor the fear.Lear. Let the great gods,That keep this dreadful pudder 2 7 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 perjur'd, and thou simular 2 8 of virtueThat art incestuous! Caitiff, to pieces shake,That under covert and convenient seemingHas practis'd 2 9 on man's life! Close pent-up guilts,Rive your concealing continents, 3 0 and cryThese dreadful summoners grace. 3 1 I am a manMore 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 rais'd;[266]Which even but now, demanding after you,Deni'd1 2 me to come in—return, and forceTheir scanted courtesy.Lear. My wits begin to turn.Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy ? Art cold ?I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?The art of our necessities is strange,And can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel.Poor Fool and knave, I have one part in my heartThat's sorry yet for thee.Fool. [Singing.]"He that has and a little tiny wit,—With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain,—Must make content with his fortunes fit,For the rain it raineth every day."Lear. True, boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.
p. 266¶Exeunt [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 AlbionCome to great confusion.Then comes the time, who lives to see't,That going shall be us'd with feet.This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time. Exit.[267]SCENE III. {Gloucester's castle]
Enter GLOUCESTER and EDMUND
¶Glou. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charg'd me, on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way sustain him.
¶Edm. Most savage and unnatural!
¶Glou. Go to; say you nothing. There is division between the Dukes, and a worse matter than that. I have received a letter this night; 'tis dangerous to be spoken; I have lock'd the letter in my closet. These injuries the King now bears will be revenged home; I there is part of a power already footed. 2 We must incline to the King. I will look him, and privily relieve him. Go you and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threat'ned me, the King my old master must be relieved. There is strange things toward, 3 Edmund; pray you, be careful. Exit.
¶Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the Duke
¶Instantly know; and of that letter too.
¶This seems a fair deserving, 4 and must draw me
¶That which my father loses; no less than all.
¶The younger rises when the old doth fall. Exit.
¶SCENE IV. [The open country. Before a hovel]
¶Enter LEAR, KENT , and Fool
¶Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter.The tyranny of the open night's too roughFor nature to endure. Storm still.Lear. Let me alone.Kent. Good my lord, enter here.Lear. Wilt break my heart?[268]Kent. I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious stormInvades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee;But where the greater malady is fix'd,The lesser is scarce felt. Thou 'dst shun a bear;But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea,Thou 'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind's free,The body's delicate; I the tempest in my mindDoth from my senses take all feeling elseSave what beats there. Filial ingratitude!Is it not as this mouth should tear this handFor lifting food to't? But I will punish home.No , I will weep no more. In such a nightTo shut me out! Pour on! I will endure.In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,—O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;No more of that.Kent. Good my lord, enter here.Lear. Prithee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease.This tempest will not give me leave to ponderOn 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. Exit [Fool].Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,Your loop'd 2 and window'd 2 raggedness, defend youFrom seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'enToo 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.Edg. [Within.] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor To m ![The Fool runs out from the hovel.]Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, help me![269]Kent. Give me thy hand. Who's there ?Fool. A spirit, a spirit! He says his name's poor To m .Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw ? Comeforth.
¶Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me!"Through the sharp hawthorn blow the winds."Hum! go to thy bed, and warm thee.Lear. Did'st thou give all to thy daughters, and art thou come tothis?Edg. Who gives anything to poor To m ? whom the foul fiendhath led through fire and through flame, and through ford andwhirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under hispillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane 3 by his porridge; madehim proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inch'dbridges, 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,starblasting, and taking! 4 Do poor To m some charity, whom thefoul fiend vexes. There could I have him now,—and there,—andthere again, and there. Storm still.Lear. Has his daughters brought him to this pass ?Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give 'em all?Fool. Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all sham'd.Lear. Now , all the plagues that in the pendulous 5 airHang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters!Kent. He hath no daughters, sir.Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd natureTo such a lowness but his unkind daughters.Is it the fashion, that discarded fathersShould have thus little mercy on their flesh ?Judicious punishment! 'Twas this flesh begotThose pelican 6 daughters.Edg. "Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill."Alow, alow, loo, loo!
p. 270¶Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
¶Edg. Take heed o' the foul fiend. Obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit 7 not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. To m ' s a-cold.
¶Lear. What hast thou been?
¶Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair; wore gloves in my cap; serv'd 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 wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd I dearly, dice dearly; and in woman out-paramour'd the Turk: 8 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, 9 thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
¶"Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind."
¶Says suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa! let him trot by.
¶Storm still.
¶Lear. Thou wert better in a grave than to answer 1 0 with thy uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on ' s are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated 1 1 man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! 1 2 come, unbutton here. [Tearing off his clothes.]
¶Enter GLOUCESTER, with a torch
¶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.
¶Edg. This is the foul [fiend] Flibbertigibbet; he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin, 1 3 squints
p. 271¶the eye, and makes the hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurtsthe poor creature of earth."St. Withold footed thrice the 'old; 1 4He met the night-mare, and her ninefold; 1 5Bid her alight,And her troth plight,And, aroint 1 6 thee, witch, aroint thee!"Kent. How fares your Grace?Lear. What's he ?Kent. Who's there ? What is ' t you seek ?Glou. What are you there? Your names?Edg. Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water; that in the fury of his heart, whenthe foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for salads; swallows the old ratand the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool;who is whipp'd from tithing" to tithing, and stock'd punish'd, andimprison'd; who hath 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!Glou. What, hath your Grace no better company?Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman.Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.Glou. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vileThat it doth hate what gets it.Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.Glou. Go in with me; my duty cannot sufferTo obey in all your daughters' hard commands.Though their injunction be to bar my doorsAnd let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out,And bring you where both fire and food is ready.Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher.What is the cause of thunder?[272]Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house.Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.What is your study ?Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.Lear. Let me ask you one word in private.Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord;His wits begin to unsettle.Glou. 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 lov'd him, friend,No father his son dearer; true to tell thee,The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this!I do beseech your Grace,—Lear. O, cry you mercy,1 8 sir.Noble philosopher, your company.Edg. Tom's a-cold.Glou. In, fellow, there, into the hovel; keep thee warm.Lear. Come, let's in all.Kent. This way, my lord.Lear. With him;I will keep still with my philosopher.Kent. Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.Glou. Take him you on.Kent. Sirrah, come on; go along with us.Lear. Come, good Athenian.Glou. No words, no words: hush.Edg. "Child Rowland to the dark tower came;His word was still,—'Fie, foh, and fum,I smell the blood of a British man.'" [Exeunt.[273]SCENE V . [Gloucester's castle]
¶Corn. I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.
¶Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured 1 that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of.
¶Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your brother's evil disposition made him seek his death; but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself.
¶Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be just! This is the letter which he spoke of, which approves 2 him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. O heavens! that this treason were not, or not I the detector!
¶Corn. Go with me to the Duchess.
¶Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.
¶Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension.
¶Edm. [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.
¶Corn. I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love. Exeunt.
¶SCENE VI. [A building attached to Gloucester's castle]
¶Enter KENT and GLOUCESTER
¶Glou. Here is better than the open air; take it thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can. I will not be long from you. Exit.
¶Kent. All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience. The gods reward your kindness!
¶Enter LEAR, EDGAR, and Fool
¶Edg. Frateretto calls me; and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend.
p. 274¶Fool. Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentlemanor a yeoman?Lear. A king, a king!Fool. No , he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son; for he'sa mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him.Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spitsCome hissing in upon 'em,—l[Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.Fool. He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse'shealth, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.Lear. It shall be done; I will arraign them straight.[To EDGAR.] Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer;[To the Fool.] Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she-foxes!Edg. Look, where he stands and glares!Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam ?"Come o'er the bourn, 2 Bessy, to me,"—Fool. "Her boat hath a leak,And she must not speakWhy she dares not come over to thee."Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor To m 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 amaz'd:Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions ?Lear. I'll see their trial first. Bring in their 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.Edg. Let us deal justly."Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd?Thy sheep be in the corn;And for one blast of thy minikin 3 mouth,Thy sheep shall take no harm."Purr! the cat is grey.[275]Lear. Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my oath beforethis honourable assembly, she kick'd the poor king her father.Fool. Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril ?Lear. She cannot deny it.Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool.Lear. And here's another, whose warp'd 4 looks proclaimWhat 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?Edg. Bless thy five wits!Kent. O pity! Sir, where is the patience nowThat you so oft have boasted to retain ?Edg. [Aside.] My tears begin to take his part so much,They mar my counterfeiting.Lear. The little dogs and all,Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me.Edg. To m will throw his head at them.Avaunt, you curs!Be thy mouth or black or white,Tooth that poisons if it bite;Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,Hound or spaniel, brach 5 or lym, 6Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail, 7To m will make him weep and wail;For, with throwing thus my head,Dogs leapt the hatch, 8 and all are fled.Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.Lear. Then let them anatomize 9 Regan; see what breeds about herheart. Is there any cause in nature that make these hard hearts?[To EDG.] You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I donot like the fashion of your garments. You will say they are Persian,but let them be chang'd.
p. 275¶Distorted, unnatural. 5 I 5 A small hound. 6 A bloodhound,A dog with a curling tail. ril. 8 A half-door. 9 Dissect.[276]Re-enter GLOUCESTERKent. Now , good my lord, lie here and rest a while.Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains; so, so, so.We'll go to supper i' the morning.Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon.Glou. Come hither, friend; where is the King my master?Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone.Glou. Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms;I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him.There is a litter ready; lay him in't,And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meetBoth 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 provisionGive thee quick conduct.Kent. [Oppressed nature sleeps.This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken sinews, 1 0Which, if convenience will not allow,Stand in hard cure. 1 1 [To the Fool.] Come, help to bear thy master;Thou must not stay behind.]Glou. Come, come, away.Exeunt [all but EDGAR][Edg. 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 1 2 things and happy shows behind;But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip,When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.How light and portable 1 3 my pain seems now,When that which makes me bend makes the King bow,He childed as I fathered! Tom, away!Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray,[277]When false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defile thee,In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee.What will hap more to-night, safe scape the King!Lurk, lurk.] [Exit.]
¶Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GONERIL, Bastard [ EDMUND ] , and Servants
¶Corn. [To GON.] Post speedily to my lord your husband; showhim this letter. The army of France is landed.—Seek out the traitorGloucester. [Exeunt some of the Servants.]Reg. Hang him instantly.Gon. Pluck out his eyes.Corn. Leave him to my displeasure.—Edmund, keep you our sistercompany; the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorousfather are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke, where youare going, to a most festinate 1 preparation; we are bound to the like.Our posts shall be swift and intelligent 2 betwixt us. Farewell, dearsister; farewell, my lord of Gloucester.
¶Enter Steward [OSWALD]How now! where's the King?Osw. My Lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence.Some five or six and thirty of his knights,Hot questrists 3 after him, met him at gate,Who, with some other of the lords dependants,Are gone with him toward Dover, where they boastTo have well-armed friends.Corn. Get horses for your mistress.Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.Corn. 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 lifeWithout the form of justice, yet our power[278]Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which menMay blame, but not control.
p. 278¶Enter GLOUCESTER and ServantsWho's there? The traitor?Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.Corn. Bind fast his corky 4 arms.Glou. What means your Graces? Good my friends, considerYou are my guests. Do men o foul play, friends.Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him.]Reg. Hard, hard. O filthy traitor!Glou. Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none.Corn. To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find—[REGAN plucks his beard.]Glou. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly doneTo pluck me by the beard.Reg. So white, and such a traitor!Glou. Naughty lady,These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,Will quicken, 5 and accuse thee. I am your host:With robber's hands my hospitable favours 6You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from France ?Reg. Be simple-answer'd, 7 for we know the truth.Corn. And what confederacy have you with the traitorsLate footed in the kingdom ?Reg. To whose hands you have sent the lunatic king,Speak.Glou. I have a letter guessingly 8 set down,Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,And not from one oppos'd.Corn. Cunning.Reg. And false.Corn. Where hast thou sent the King?Glou. To Dover.[279]Reg. Wherefore to Dover ? Wast thou not charg'd at peril—Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that.Glou. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course. 9Reg. Wherefore to Dover?Glou. Because I would not see thy cruel nailsPluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sisterIn his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.The sea, with such a storm as his bare headIn hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd upAnd quench'd the stelled 1 0 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 subscribe; 1 1 but I shall seeThe winged vengeance overtake such children.Corn. See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.Glou. He that will think to live till he be old,Give me some help!—O cruel! O you gods!Reg. One side will mock another; the other too.Corn. If you see vengeance,—[1.] Serv. Hold your hand, my lord!I have serv'd you ever since I was a child;But better service have I never done youThan now to bid you hold.Reg. How now, you dog![1.] Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin,I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean ?Corn. My villain! [They draw and fight.][1.] Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger.Reg. Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus ?Ta\es a sword, and runs at him behind.[1.] Serv. Oh, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye leftTo see some mischief on him. Oh! [D/«.]Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly![280]Where is thy lustre now ?Glou. All dark and comfortless. Where's my son Edmund?Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,To quit this horrid act.Reg. Out, treacherous villain!Thou call'st on him that hates thee. It was heThat made the overture 1 2 of thy treasons to us,Who is too good to pity thee.Glou. O my follies! then Edgar was abus'd. 1 3Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smellHis way to Dover. Exit [one] with GLOUCESTER. HOW is't, my lord?How look you?Corn. I have received a hurt; follow me, lady.Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slaveUpon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace;Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.
p. 280¶[Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN.]
¶[2. Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do,If this man come to good.3. Serv. If she live long,And in the end meet the old course of death,Women will all turn monsters.2. Serv. Let's follow the old earl, and get the BedlamTo lead him where he would: his roguish madnessAllows itself to anything. 1 43. Serv. Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggsTo apply to his bleeding face. Now , Heaven help him!]Exeunt [severally].
Act IV
¶SCENE I. [The open country near Gloucester's castle]Enter EDGAREdg. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,Than, still contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worst,[281]The lowest and most dejected 1 thing of fortuneStands still in esperance, 2 lives not in fear.The lamentable change is from the best;The worst returns to laughter. 3 Welcome, then,Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worstOwes nothing to thy blasts.
p. 281¶Enter GLOUCESTER, led by an Old ManBut who comes here ?My father, poorly led? World, world, O world!But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,Life would not yield to age.Old Man. O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and yourfather's tenant, these fourscore years.Glou. 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.Glou. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen,Our means secure us, 4 and our mere defectsProve our commodities. 5 O dear son Edgar,The food of thy abused 6 father's wrath!Might I but live to see thee in my touch,I'd say I had eyes again!Old Man. How now! Who's there?Edg. [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 To m .Edg. [Aside.] And worse I may be yet; the worst is notSo long as we can say, "This is the worst."Old Man. Fellow, where goest?Glou. Is it a beggar-man ?Old Man. Madman and beggar too.[282]Glou. 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 sonCame then into my mind, and yet my mindWas 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.Edg. [Aside.] How should this be?Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,Ang'ring itself and others.—Bless thee, master!Glou. Is that the naked fellow ?Old Man. Ay , my lord.Glou. [Then, prithee,] get thee away. If, for my sake,Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twainI' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;And bring some covering for this naked soul,Which I'll entreat to lead me.Old Man. Alack, sir, he is mad.Glou. 'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind.Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;Above the rest, be goneOld Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,Come on't what will. Exit.Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow,—Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. [Aside.] I cannot daub it 7 further.Glou. Come hither, fellow.Edg. [Aside.] And yet I must.—Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.Glou. Know'st thou the way to Dover?Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor To m hathbeen scar'd out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man's son, fromthe foul fiend! [Five fiends have been in poor To m at once; of lust,as Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing;Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing, 8 whosince possesses chambermaids and waiting-women. So, bless thee,master!]Glou. Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues[283]Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretchedMakes thee the happier; heavens, deal so still!Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,That slaves your ordinance, 9 that will not seeBecause he does not feel, feel your power quickly;So distribution should undo excess,And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?Edg. Ay, master.Glou. There is a cliff, whose high and bending headLooks fearfully in the confined 1 0 deep.Bring me but to the very brim of it,And I'll repair the misery thou dost bearWith something rich about me. From that placeI shall no leading need.Edg. Give me thy arm;Poor To m shall lead thee. Exeunt.