With fiue and twenty? Regan, said you so? Reg. And speak’t againe my Lord, no more with me
Lea. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor’d When others are more wicked, not being the worst Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go with thee, Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty, And thou art twice her Loue
Gon. Heare me my Lord;
What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue? To follow in a house, where twice so many Haue a command to tend you?
Reg. What need one?
Lear. O reason not the need: our basest Beggers Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs: Mans life is cheape as Beastes. Thou art a Lady; If onely to go warme were gorgeous,
Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear’st, Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need: You Heauens, giue me that patience, patience I need, You see me heere (you Gods) a poore old man, As full of griefe as age, wretched in both, If it be you that stirres these Daughters hearts Against their Father, foole me not so much, To beare it tamely: touch me with Noble anger, And let not womens weapons, water drops, Staine my mans cheekes. No you vnnaturall Hags, I will haue such reuenges on you both,
That all the world shall- I will do such things, What they are yet, I know not, but they shalbe The terrors of the earth? you thinke Ile weepe, No, Ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping.
Storme and Tempest.
But this heart shal break into a hundred thousand flawes Or ere Ile weepe; O Foole, I shall go mad.
Exeunt.
Corn. Let vs withdraw, ’twill be a Storme
Reg. This house is little, the old man and’s people, Cannot be well bestow’d
Gon. ‘Tis his owne blame hath put himselfe from rest, And must needs taste his folly
Reg. For his particular, Ile receiue him gladly, But not one follower
Gon. So am I purpos’d,
Where is my Lord of Gloster?
Enter Gloster.
Corn. Followed the old man forth, he is return’d
Glo. The King is in high rage
Corn. Whether is he going?
Glo. He cals to Horse, but will I know not whether
Corn. ‘Tis best to giue him way, he leads himselfe
Gon. My Lord, entreate him by no meanes to stay
Glo. Alacke the night comes on, and the high windes Do sorely ruffle, for many Miles about
There’s scarce a Bush
Reg. O Sir, to wilfull men,
The iniuries that they themselues procure, Must be their Schoole-Masters: shut vp your doores, He is attended with a desperate traine,
And what they may incense him too, being apt, To haue his eare abus’d, wisedome bids feare
Cor. Shut vp your doores my Lord, ’tis a wil’d night, My Regan counsels well: come out oth’ storme.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Storme still. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, seuerally.
Kent. Who’s there besides foule weather? Gen. One minded like the weather, most vnquietly
Kent. I know you: Where’s the King? Gent. Contending with the fretfull Elements; Bids the winde blow the Earth into the Sea, Or swell the curled Waters ‘boue the Maine, That things might change, or cease
Kent. But who is with him?
Gent. None but the Foole, who labours to out-iest His heart-strooke iniuries
Kent. Sir, I do know you,
And dare vpon the warrant of my note Commend a deere thing to you. There is diuision (Although as yet the face of it is couer’d With mutuall cunning) ‘twixt Albany, and Cornwall: Who haue, as who haue not, that their great Starres Thron’d and set high; Seruants, who seeme no lesse, Which are to France the Spies and Speculations Intelligent of our State. What hath bin seene, Either in snuffes, and packings of the Dukes, Or the hard Reine which both of them hath borne Against the old kinde King; or something deeper, Whereof (perchance) these are but furnishings
Gent. I will talke further with you
Kent. No, do not:
For confirmation that I am much more Then my out-wall; open this Purse, and take What it containes. If you shall see Cordelia, (As feare not but you shall) shew her this Ring, And she will tell you who that Fellow is That yet you do not know. Fye on this Storme, I will go seeke the King
Gent. Giue me your hand,
Haue you no more to say?
Kent. Few words, but to effect more then all yet; That when we haue found the King, in which your pain That way, Ile this: He that first lights on him, Holla the other.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Storme still. Enter Lear, and Foole.
Lear. Blow windes, & crack your cheeks; Rage, blow You Cataracts, and Hyrricano’s spout,
Till you haue drench’d our Steeples, drown the Cockes. You Sulph’rous and Thought-executing Fires, Vaunt-curriors of Oake-cleauing Thunder-bolts, Sindge my white head. And thou all-shaking Thunder, Strike flat the thicke Rotundity o’th’ world, Cracke Natures moulds, all germaines spill at once That makes ingratefull Man
Foole. O Nunkle, Court holy-water in a dry house, is better then this Rain-water out o’ doore. Good Nunkle, in, aske thy Daughters blessing, heere’s a night pitties neither Wisemen, nor Fooles
Lear. Rumble thy belly full: spit Fire, spowt Raine: Nor Raine, Winde, Thunder, Fire are my Daughters; I taxe not you, you Elements with vnkindnesse. I neuer gaue you Kingdome, call’d you Children; You owe me no subscription. Then let fall Your horrible pleasure. Heere I stand your Slaue, A poore, infirme, weake, and dispis’d old man: But yet I call you Seruile Ministers,
That will with two pernicious Daughters ioyne Your high-engender’d Battailes, ‘gainst a head So old, and white as this. O, ho! ’tis foule
Foole. He that has a house to put’s head in, has a good Head-peece:
The Codpiece that will house, before the head has any; The Head, and he shall Lowse: so Beggers marry many. The man y makes his Toe, what he his Hart shold make, Shall of a Corne cry woe, and turne his sleepe to wake. For there was neuer yet faire woman, but shee made mouthes in a glasse.
Enter Kent
Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience, I will say nothing
Kent. Who’s there?
Foole. Marry here’s Grace, and a Codpiece, that’s a Wiseman, and a Foole
Kent. Alas Sir are you here? Things that loue night, Loue not such nights as these: The wrathfull Skies Gallow the very wanderers of the darke
And make them keepe their Caues: Since I was man, Such sheets of Fire, such bursts of horrid Thunder, Such groanes of roaring Winde, and Raine, I neuer Remember to haue heard. Mans Nature cannot carry Th’ affliction, nor the feare
Lear. Let the great Goddes
That keepe this dreadfull pudder o’re our heads, Finde out their enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch, That hast within thee vndivulged Crimes
Vnwhipt of Iustice. Hide thee, thou Bloudy hand; Thou Periur’d, and thou Simular of Vertue That art Incestuous. Caytiffe, to peeces shake That vnder couert, and conuenient seeming Ha’s practis’d on mans life. Close pent-vp guilts, Riue your concealing Continents, and cry These dreadfull Summoners grace. I am a man, More sinn’d against, then sinning
Kent. Alacke, bare-headed?
Gracious my Lord, hard by heere is a Houell, Some friendship will it lend you ‘gainst the Tempest: Repose you there, while I to this hard house, (More harder then the stones whereof ’tis rais’d, Which euen but now, demanding after you, Deny’d me to come in) returne, and force Their scanted curtesie
Lear. My wits begin to turne.
Come on my boy. How dost my boy? Art cold? I am cold my selfe. Where is this straw, my Fellow? The Art of our Necessities is strange,
And can make vilde things precious. Come, your Houel; Poore Foole, and Knaue, I haue one part in my heart That’s sorry yet for thee
Foole. He that has and a little-tyne wit, With heigh-ho, the Winde and the Raine,
Must make content with his Fortunes fit, Though the Raine it raineth euery day
Le. True Boy: Come bring vs to this Houell. Enter.
Foole. This is a braue night to coole a Curtizan: Ile speake a Prophesie ere I go:
When Priests are more in word, then matter; When Brewers marre their Malt with water; When Nobles are their Taylors Tutors,
No Heretiques burn’d, but wenches Sutors; When euery Case in Law, is right;
No Squire in debt, nor no poore Knight; When Slanders do not liue in Tongues;
Nor Cut-purses come not to throngs; When Vsurers tell their Gold i’th’ Field, And Baudes, and whores, do Churches build, Then shal the Realme of Albion, come to great confusion: Then comes the time, who liues to see’t, That going shalbe vs’d with feet.
This prophecie Merlin shall make, for I liue before his time. Enter.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Gloster, and Edmund.
Glo. Alacke, alacke Edmund, I like not this vnnaturall dealing; when I desired their leaue that I might pity him, they tooke from me the vse of mine owne house, charg’d me on paine of perpetuall displeasure, neither to speake of him, entreat for him, or any way sustaine him
Bast. Most sauage and vnnaturall
Glo. Go too; say you nothing. There is diuision betweene the Dukes, and a worsse matter then that: I haue receiued a Letter this night, ’tis dangerous to be spoken, I haue lock’d the Letter in my Closset, these iniuries the King now beares, will be reuenged home; ther is part of a Power already footed, we must incline to the King, I will looke him, and priuily relieue him; goe you and maintaine talke with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceiued; If he aske for me, I am ill, and gone to bed, if I die for it, (as no lesse is threatned me) the King my old Master must be relieued. There is strange things toward Edmund, pray you be carefull.
Enter.
Bast. This Curtesie forbid thee, shall the Duke Instantly know, and of that Letter too;
This seemes a faire deseruing, and must draw me That which my Father looses: no lesse then all, The yonger rises, when the old doth fall. Enter.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.
Kent. Here is the place my Lord, good my Lord enter, The tirrany of the open night’s too rough For Nature to endure.
Storme still
Lear. Let me alone
Kent. Good my Lord enter heere
Lear. Wilt breake my heart?
Kent. I had rather breake mine owne, Good my Lord enter
Lear. Thou think’st ’tis much that this contentious storme Inuades vs to the skin so: ’tis to thee, But where the greater malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a Beare, But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea, Thou’dst meete the Beare i’th’ mouth, when the mind’s free, The bodies delicate: the tempest in my mind, Doth from my sences take all feeling else, Saue what beates there, Filliall ingratitude, Is it not as this mouth should teare this hand For lifting food too’t? But I will punish home; No, I will weepe no more; in such a night, To shut me out? Poure on, I will endure: In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill, Your old kind Father, whose franke heart gaue all, O that way madnesse lies, let me shun that: No more of that
Kent. Good my Lord enter here
Lear. Prythee go in thy selfe, seeke thine owne ease, This tempest will not giue me leaue to ponder On things would hurt me more, but Ile goe in, In Boy, go first. You houselesse pouertie, Enter.
Nay get thee in; Ile pray, and then Ile sleepe. Poore naked wretches, where so ere you are That bide the pelting of this pittilesse storme, How shall your House-lesse heads, and vnfed sides, Your lop’d, and window’d raggednesse defend you From seasons such as these? O I haue tane Too little care of this: Take Physicke, Pompe, Expose thy selfe to feele what wretches feele, That thou maist shake the superflux to them, And shew the Heauens more iust.
Enter Edgar, and Foole.
Edg. Fathom, and halfe, Fathom and halfe; poore Tom
Foole. Come not in heere Nuncle, here’s a spirit, helpe me, helpe me
Kent. Giue my thy hand, who’s there? Foole. A spirite, a spirite, he sayes his name’s poore Tom
Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i’th’ straw? Come forth
Edg. Away, the foule Fiend followes me, through the sharpe Hauthorne blow the windes. Humh, goe to thy bed and warme thee
Lear. Did’st thou giue all to thy Daughters? And art thou come to this?
Edgar. Who giues any thing to poore Tom? Whom the foule fiend hath led through Fire, and through Flame, through Sword, and Whirle-Poole, o’re Bog, and Quagmire, that hath laid Kniues vnder his Pillow, and Halters in his Pue, set Rats-bane by his Porredge, made him Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, ouer foure incht Bridges, to course his owne shadow for a Traitor. Blisse thy fiue Wits, Toms a cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de, blisse thee from Whirle-Windes, Starre-blasting, and taking, do poore Tom some charitie, whom the foule Fiend vexes. There could I haue him now, and there, and there againe, and there.
Storme still.
Lear. Ha’s his Daughters brought him to this passe? Could’st thou saue nothing? Would’st thou giue ’em all? Foole. Nay, he reseru’d a Blanket, else we had bin all sham’d
Lea. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre Hang fated o’re mens faults, light on thy Daughters
Kent. He hath no Daughters Sir
Lear. Death Traitor, nothing could haue subdu’d Nature To such a lownesse, but his vnkind Daughters. Is it the fashion, that discarded Fathers, Should haue thus little mercy on their flesh: Iudicious punishment, ’twas this flesh begot Those Pelicane Daughters
Edg. Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill, alow: alow, loo, loo
Foole. This cold night will turne vs all to Fooles, and Madmen
Edgar. Take heed o’th’ foule Fiend, obey thy Parents, keepe thy words Iustice, sweare not, commit not, with mans sworne Spouse: set not thy Sweet-heart on proud array. Tom’s a cold
Lear. What hast thou bin?
Edg. A Seruingman? Proud in heart, and minde; that curl’d my haire, wore Gloues in my cap; seru’d the Lust of my Mistris heart, and did the acte of darkenesse with her. Swore as many Oathes, as I spake words, & broke them in the sweet face of Heauen. One, that slept in the contriuing of Lust, and wak’d to doe it. Wine lou’d I deerely, Dice deerely; and in Woman, out-Paramour’d the Turke. False of heart, light of eare, bloody of hand; Hog in sloth, Foxe in stealth, Wolfe in greedinesse, Dog in madnes, Lyon in prey. Let not the creaking of shooes, Nor the rustling of Silkes, betray thy poore heart to woman. Keepe thy foote out of Brothels, thy hand out of Plackets, thy pen from Lenders Bookes, and defye the foule Fiend. Still through the Hauthorne blowes the cold winde: Sayes suum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my Boy, Boy Sesey: let him trot by.
Storme still.
Lear. Thou wert better in a Graue, then to answere with thy vncouer’d body, this extremitie of the Skies. Is man no more then this? Consider him well. Thou ow’st the Worme no Silke; the Beast, no Hide; the Sheepe, no Wooll; the Cat, no perfume. Ha? Here’s three on’s are sophisticated. Thou art the thing it selfe; vnaccommodated man, is no more but such a poore, bare, forked Animall as thou art. Off, off you Lendings: Come, vnbutton heere.
Enter Gloucester, with a Torch.
Foole. Prythee Nunckle be contented, ’tis a naughtie night to swimme in. Now a little fire in a wilde Field, were like an old Letchers heart, a small spark, all the rest on’s body, cold: Looke, heere comes a walking fire
Edg. This is the foule Flibbertigibbet; hee begins at Curfew, and walkes at first Cocke: Hee giues the Web and the Pin, squints the eye, and makes the Hare-lippe; Mildewes the white Wheate, and hurts the poore Creature of earth.
Swithold footed thrice the old,
He met the Night-Mare, and her nine-fold; Bid her a-light, and her troth-plight,
And aroynt thee Witch, aroynt thee
Kent. How fares your Grace?
Lear. What’s he?
Kent. Who’s there? What is’t you seeke? Glou. What are you there? Your Names?
Edg. Poore Tom, that eates the swimming Frog, the Toad, the Tod-pole, the wall-Neut, and the water: that in the furie of his heart, when the foule Fiend rages, eats Cow-dung for Sallets; swallowes the old Rat, and the ditch-Dogge; drinkes the green Mantle of the standing Poole: who is whipt from Tything to Tything, and stockt, punish’d, and imprison’d: who hath three Suites to his backe, sixe shirts to his body:
Horse to ride, and weapon to weare: But Mice, and Rats, and such small Deare, Haue bin Toms food, for seuen long yeare: Beware my Follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou Fiend
Glou. What, hath your Grace no better company? Edg. The Prince of Darkenesse is a Gentleman. Modo he’s call’d, and Mahu
Glou. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is growne so vilde, that it doth hate what gets it
Edg. Poore Tom’s a cold
Glou. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer T’ obey in all your daughters hard commands: Though their Iniunction be to barre my doores, And let this Tyrannous night take hold vpon you, Yet haue I ventured to come seeke you out, And bring you where both fire, and food is ready
Lear. First let me talke with this Philosopher, What is the cause of Thunder?
Kent. Good my Lord take his offer, Go into th’ house
Lear. Ile talke a word with this same lerned Theban: What is your study?
Edg. How to preuent the Fiend, and to kill Vermine
Lear. Let me aske you one word in priuate
Kent. Importune him once more to go my Lord, His wits begin t’ vnsettle
Glou. Canst thou blame him?
Storm still
His Daughters seeke his death: Ah, that good Kent, He said it would be thus: poore banish’d man: Thou sayest the King growes mad, Ile tell thee Friend I am almost mad my selfe. I had a Sonne, Now out-law’d from my blood: he sought my life But lately: very late: I lou’d him (Friend) No Father his Sonne deerer: true to tell thee, The greefe hath craz’d my wits. What a night’s this? I do beseech your grace
Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:
Noble Philosopher, your company
Edg. Tom’s a cold
Glou. In fellow there, into th’ Houel; keep thee warm
Lear. Come, let’s in all
Kent. This way, my Lord
Lear. With him;
I will keepe still with my Philosopher
Kent. Good my Lord, sooth him:
Let him take the Fellow
Glou. Take him you on
Kent. Sirra, come on: go along with vs
Lear. Come, good Athenian
Glou. No words, no words, hush
Edg. Childe Rowland to the darke Tower came, His word was still, fie, foh, and fumme, I smell the blood of a Brittish man.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.
Corn. I will haue my reuenge, ere I depart his house
Bast. How my Lord, I may be censured, that Nature thus giues way to Loyaltie, something feares mee to thinke of
Cornw. I now perceiue, it was not altogether your Brothers euill disposition made him seeke his death: but a prouoking merit set a-worke by a reprouable badnesse in himselfe
Bast. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be iust? This is the Letter which hee spoake of; which approues him an intelligent partie to the aduantages of France. O Heauens! that this Treason were not; or not I the detector
Corn. Go with me to the Dutchesse
Bast. If the matter of this Paper be certain, you haue mighty businesse in hand
Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earle of Gloucester: seeke out where thy Father is, that hee may bee ready for our apprehension
Bast. If I finde him comforting the King, it will stuffe his suspition more fully. I will perseuer in my course of Loyalty, though the conflict be sore betweene that, and my blood
Corn. I will lay trust vpon thee: and thou shalt finde a deere Father in my loue.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Kent, and Gloucester.
Glou. Heere is better then the open ayre, take it thankfully: I will peece out the comfort with what addition I can: I will not be long from you.
Exit
Kent. All the powre of his wits, haue giuen way to his impatience: the Gods reward your kindnesse. Enter Lear, Edgar, and Foole.
Edg. Fraterretto cals me, and tells me Nero is an Angler in the Lake of Darknesse: pray Innocent, and beware the foule Fiend
Foole. Prythee Nunkle tell me, whether a madman be a Gentleman, or a Yeoman
Lear. A King, a King
Foole. No, he’s a Yeoman, that ha’s a Gentleman to his Sonne: for hee’s a mad Yeoman that sees his Sonne a Gentleman before him
Lear. To haue a thousand with red burning spits Come hizzing in vpon ’em
Edg. Blesse thy fiue wits
Kent. O pitty: Sir, where is the patience now That you so oft haue boasted to retaine? Edg. My teares begin to take his part so much, They marre my counterfetting
Lear. The little dogges, and all;
Trey, Blanch, and Sweet-heart: see, they barke at me
Edg. Tom, will throw his head at them: Auaunt you Curres, be thy mouth or blacke or white: Tooth that poysons if it bite:
Mastiffe, Grey-hound, Mongrill, Grim, Hound or Spaniell, Brache, or Hym:
Or Bobtaile tight, or Troudle taile, Tom will make him weepe and waile,
For with throwing thus my head;
Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled. Do, de, de, de: sese: Come, march to Wakes and Fayres, And Market Townes: poore Tom thy horne is dry, Lear. Then let them Anatomize Regan: See what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in Nature that make these hard-hearts. You sir, I entertaine for one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will say they are Persian; but let them bee chang’d.
Enter Gloster.
Kent. Now good my Lord, lye heere, and rest awhile
Lear. Make no noise, make no noise, draw the Curtaines: so, so, wee’l go to Supper i’th’ morning
Foole. And Ile go to bed at noone
Glou. Come hither Friend:
Where is the King my Master?
Kent. Here Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gon
Glou. Good friend, I prythee take him in thy armes; I haue ore-heard a plot of death vpon him: There is a Litter ready, lay him in’t,
And driue toward Douer friend, where thou shalt meete Both welcome, and protection. Take vp thy Master, If thou should’st dally halfe an houre, his life With thine, and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured losse. Take vp, take vp, And follow me, that will to some prouision Giue thee quicke conduct. Come, come, away.
Exeunt.
Scena Septima.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Bastard, and Seruants.
Corn. Poste speedily to my Lord your husband, shew him this Letter, the Army of France is landed: seeke out the Traitor Glouster
Reg. Hang him instantly
Gon. Plucke out his eyes
Corn. Leaue him to my displeasure. Edmond, keepe you our Sister company: the reuenges wee are bound to take vppon your Traitorous Father, are not fit for your beholding. Aduice the Duke where you are going, to a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our Postes shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt vs. Farewell deere Sister, farewell my Lord of Glouster. Enter Steward.
How now? Where’s the King?
Stew. My Lord of Glouster hath conuey’d him hence Some fiue or six and thirty of his Knights Hot Questrists after him, met him at gate, Who, with some other of the Lords, dependants, Are gone with him toward Douer; where they boast To haue well armed Friends
Corn. Get horses for your Mistris
Gon. Farewell sweet Lord, and Sister.
Exit
Corn. Edmund farewell: go seek the Traitor Gloster, Pinnion him like a Theefe, bring him before vs: Though well we may not passe vpon his life Without the forme of Iustice: yet our power Shall do a curt’sie to our wrath, which men May blame, but not comptroll.
Enter Gloucester, and Seruants.
Who’s there? the Traitor?
Reg. Ingratefull Fox, ’tis he
Corn. Binde fast his corky armes
Glou. What meanes your Graces?
Good my Friends consider you are my Ghests: Do me no foule play, Friends
Corn. Binde him I say
Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy Traitor
Glou. Vnmercifull Lady, as you are, I’me none
Corn. To this Chaire binde him,
Villaine, thou shalt finde
Glou. By the kinde Gods, ’tis most ignobly done To plucke me by the Beard
Reg. So white, and such a Traitor?
Glou. Naughty Ladie,
These haires which thou dost rauish from my chin Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your Host, With Robbers hands, my hospitable fauours You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? Corn. Come Sir.
What Letters had you late from France? Reg. Be simple answer’d, for we know the truth
Corn. And what confederacie haue you with the Traitors, late footed in the Kingdome?
Reg. To whose hands
You haue sent the Lunaticke King: Speake
Glou. I haue a Letter guessingly set downe Which came from one that’s of a newtrall heart, And not from one oppos’d
Corn. Cunning
Reg. And false
Corn. Where hast thou sent the King? Glou. To Douer
Reg. Wherefore to Douer?
Was’t thou not charg’d at perill
Corn. Wherefore to Douer? Let him answer that
Glou. I am tyed to’th’ Stake,
And I must stand the Course
Reg. Wherefore to Douer?
Glou. Because I would not see thy cruell Nailes Plucke out his poore old eyes: nor thy fierce Sister, In his Annointed flesh, sticke boarish phangs. The Sea, with such a storme as his bare head, In Hell-blacke-night indur’d, would haue buoy’d vp And quench’d the Stelled fires:
Yet poore old heart, he holpe the Heauens to raine. If Wolues had at thy Gate howl’d that sterne time, Thou should’st haue said, good Porter turne the Key: All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see The winged Vengeance ouertake such Children
Corn. See’t shalt thou neuer. Fellowes hold y Chaire, Vpon these eyes of thine, Ile set my foote
Glou. He that will thinke to liue, till he be old, Giue me some helpe. – O cruell! O you Gods
Reg. One side will mocke another: Th’ other too
Corn. If you see vengeance
Seru. Hold your hand, my Lord:
I haue seru’d you euer since I was a Childe: But better seruice haue I neuer done you, Then now to bid you hold
Reg. How now, you dogge?
Ser. If you did weare a beard vpon your chin, I’ld shake it on this quarrell. What do you meane? Corn. My Villaine?
Seru. Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger
Reg. Giue me thy Sword. A pezant stand vp thus?
Killes him.
Ser. Oh I am slaine: my Lord, you haue one eye left To see some mischefe on him. Oh
Corn. Lest it see more, preuent it; Out vilde gelly: Where is thy luster now?
Glou. All darke and comfortlesse?
Where’s my Sonne Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle all the sparkes of Nature To quit this horrid acte
Reg. Out treacherous Villaine,
Thou call’st on him, that hates thee. It was he That made the ouerture of thy Treasons to vs: Who is too good to pitty thee
Glou. O my Follies! then Edgar was abus’d, Kinde Gods, forgiue me that, and prosper him
Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell His way to Douer.
Exit with Glouster.
How is’t my Lord? How looke you?
Corn. I haue receiu’d a hurt: Follow me Lady; Turne out that eyelesse Villaine: throw this Slaue Vpon the Dunghill: Regan, I bleed apace, Vntimely comes this hurt. Giue me your arme.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Edgar.
Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn’d, Then still contemn’d and flatter’d, to be worst: The lowest, and most deiected thing of Fortune, Stands still in esperance, liues not in feare: The lamentable change is from the best,
The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then, Thou vnsubstantiall ayre that I embrace: The Wretch that thou hast blowne vnto the worst, Owes nothing to thy blasts.
Enter Glouster, and an Oldman.
But who comes heere? My Father poorely led? World, World, O world!
But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee, Life would not yeelde to age
Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant, And your Fathers Tenant, these fourescore yeares
Glou. Away, get thee away: good Friend be gone, Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee, they may hurt
Oldm. You cannot see your way
Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes: I stumbled when I saw. Full oft ’tis seene, Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar, The food of thy abused Fathers wrath:
Might I but liue to see thee in my touch, I’ld say I had eyes againe
Oldm. How now? who’s there?
Edg. O Gods! Who is’t can say I am at the worst? I am worse then ere I was
Old. ‘Tis poore mad Tom
Edg. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can say this is the worst
Oldm. Fellow, where goest?
Glou. Is it a Beggar-man?
Oldm. Madman, and beggar too
Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I’th’ last nights storme, I such a fellow saw; Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne Came then into my minde, and yet my minde Was then scarse Friends with him.
I haue heard more since:
As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th’ Gods, They kill vs for their sport
Edg. How should this be?
Bad is the Trade that must play Foole to sorrow, Ang’ring it selfe, and others. Blesse thee Master
Glou. Is that the naked Fellow?
Oldm. I, my Lord
Glou. Get thee away: If for my sake Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine I’th’ way toward Douer, do it for ancient loue, And bring some couering for this naked Soule, Which Ile intreate to leade me
Old. Alacke sir, he is mad
Glou. ‘Tis the times plague,
When Madmen leade the blinde:
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure: Aboue the rest, be gone
Oldm. Ile bring him the best Parrell that I haue Come on’t what will.
Exit
Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow
Edg. Poore Tom’s a cold. I cannot daub it further
Glou. Come hither fellow
Edg. And yet I must:
Blesse thy sweete eyes, they bleede
Glou. Know’st thou the way to Douer? Edg. Both style, and gate; Horseway, and foot-path: poore Tom hath bin scarr’d out of his good wits. Blesse thee good mans sonne, from the foule Fiend
Glou. Here take this purse, y whom the heau’ns plagues Haue humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched Makes thee the happier: Heauens deale so still: Let the superfluous, and Lust-dieted man, That slaues your ordinance, that will not see Because he do’s not feele, feele your powre quickly: So distribution should vndoo excesse,
And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer? Edg. I Master
Glou. There is a Cliffe, whose high and bending head Lookes fearfully in the confined Deepe:
Bring me but to the very brimme of it, And Ile repayre the misery thou do’st beare With something rich about me: from that place, I shall no leading neede
Edg. Giue me thy arme;
Poore Tom shall leade thee.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Gonerill, Bastard, and Steward.
Gon. Welcome my Lord. I meruell our mild husband Not met vs on the way. Now, where’s your Master? Stew. Madam within, but neuer man so chang’d: I told him of the Army that was Landed:
He smil’d at it. I told him you were comming, His answer was, the worse. Of Glosters Treachery, And of the loyall Seruice of his Sonne
When I inform’d him, then he call’d me Sot, And told me I had turn’d the wrong side out: What most he should dislike, seemes pleasant to him; What like, offensiue
Gon. Then shall you go no further.
It is the Cowish terror of his spirit That dares not vndertake: Hee’l not feele wrongs Which tye him to an answer: our wishes on the way May proue effects. Backe Edmond to my Brother, Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powres. I must change names at home, and giue the Distaffe Into my Husbands hands. This trustie Seruant Shall passe betweene vs: ere long you are like to heare (If you dare venture in your owne behalfe) A Mistresses command. Weare this; spare speech, Decline your head. This kisse, if it durst speake Would stretch thy Spirits vp into the ayre: Conceiue, and fare thee well
Bast. Yours in the rankes of death. Enter.
Gon. My most deere Gloster.
Oh, the difference of man, and man, To thee a Womans seruices are due,
My Foole vsurpes my body
Stew. Madam, here come’s my Lord.
Enter Albany.
Gon. I haue beene worth the whistle
Alb. Oh Gonerill,
You are not worth the dust which the rude winde Blowes in your face
Gon. Milke-Liuer’d man,
That bear’st a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs, Who hast not in thy browes an eye-discerning Thine Honor, from thy suffering
Alb. See thy selfe diuell:
Proper deformitie seemes not in the Fiend So horrid as in woman
Gon. Oh vaine Foole.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwals dead, Slaine by his Seruant, going to put out
The other eye of Glouster
Alb. Glousters eyes
Mes. A Seruant that he bred, thrill’d with remorse, Oppos’d against the act: bending his Sword To his great Master, who, threat-enrag’d Flew on him, and among’st them fell’d him dead, But not without that harmefull stroke, which since Hath pluckt him after
Alb. This shewes you are aboue
You Iustices, that these our neather crimes So speedily can venge. But (O poore Glouster) Lost he his other eye?
Mes. Both, both, my Lord.
This Leter Madam, craues a speedy answer: ‘Tis from your Sister
Gon. One way I like this well.
But being widdow, and my Glouster with her, May all the building in my fancie plucke Vpon my hatefull life. Another way
The Newes is not so tart. Ile read, and answer
Alb. Where was his Sonne,
When they did take his eyes?
Mes. Come with my Lady hither
Alb. He is not heere
Mes. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe
Alb. Knowes he the wickednesse?
Mes. I my good Lord: ’twas he inform’d against him And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might haue the freer course
Alb. Glouster, I liue
To thanke thee for the loue thou shew’dst the King, And to reuenge thine eyes. Come hither Friend, Tell me what more thou know’st.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Gentlemen, and Souldiours.
Cor. Alacke, ’tis he: why he was met euen now As mad as the vext Sea, singing alowd.
Crown’d with ranke Fenitar, and furrow weeds, With Hardokes, Hemlocke, Nettles, Cuckoo flowres, Darnell, and all the idle weedes that grow In our sustaining Corne. A Centery send forth; Search euery Acre in the high-growne field, And bring him to our eye. What can mans wisedome In the restoring his bereaued Sense; he that helpes him, Take all my outward worth
Gent. There is meanes Madam:
Our foster Nurse of Nature, is repose, The which he lackes: that to prouoke in him Are many Simples operatiue, whose power
Will close the eye of Anguish
Cord. All blest Secrets,
All you vnpublish’d Vertues of the earth Spring with my teares; be aydant, and remediate In the Goodmans desires: seeke, seeke for him, Least his vngouern’d rage, dissolue the life That wants the meanes to leade it.
Enter Messenger.
Mes. Newes Madam,
The Brittish Powres are marching hitherward
Cor. ‘Tis knowne before. Our preparation stands In expectation of them. O deere Father,
It is thy businesse that I go about: Therfore great France My mourning, and importun’d teares hath pittied: No blowne Ambition doth our Armes incite, But loue, deere loue, and our ag’d Fathers Rite: Soone may I heare, and see him.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Regan, and Steward.
Reg. But are my Brothers Powres set forth? Stew. I Madam
Reg. Himselfe in person there?
Stew. Madam with much ado:
Your Sister is the better Souldier
Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lord at home? Stew. No Madam
Reg. What might import my Sisters Letter to him? Stew. I know not, Lady
Reg. Faith he is poasted hence on serious matter: It was great ignorance, Glousters eyes being out To let him liue. Where he arriues, he moues All hearts against vs: Edmund, I thinke is gone In pitty of his misery, to dispatch
His nighted life: Moreouer to descry The strength o’th’ Enemy
Stew. I must needs after him, Madam, with my Letter
Reg. Our troopes set forth to morrow, stay with vs: The wayes are dangerous
Stew. I may not Madam:
My Lady charg’d my dutie in this busines
Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you transport her purposes by word? Belike, Some things, I know not what. Ile loue thee much Let me vnseale the Letter
Stew. Madam, I had rather-
Reg. I know your Lady do’s not loue her Husband, I am sure of that: and at her late being heere, She gaue strange Eliads, and most speaking lookes To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosome
Stew. I, Madam?
Reg. I speake in vnderstanding: Y’are: I know’t, Therefore I do aduise you take this note: My Lord is dead: Edmond, and I haue talk’d, And more conuenient is he for my hand
Then for your Ladies: You may gather more: If you do finde him, pray you giue him this; And when your Mistris heares thus much from you, I pray desire her call her wisedome to her. So fare you well:
If you do chance to heare of that blinde Traitor, Preferment fals on him, that cuts him off
Stew. Would I could meet Madam, I should shew What party I do follow
Reg. Fare thee well.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Gloucester, and Edgar.
Glou. When shall I come to th’ top of that same hill? Edg. You do climbe vp it now. Look how we labor
Glou. Me thinkes the ground is eeuen
Edg. Horrible steepe.
Hearke, do you heare the Sea?
Glou. No truly
Edg. Why then your other Senses grow imperfect By your eyes anguish
Glou. So may it be indeed.
Me thinkes thy voyce is alter’d, and thou speak’st In better phrase, and matter then thou did’st
Edg. Y’are much deceiu’d: In nothing am I chang’d But in my Garments
Glou. Me thinkes y’are better spoken
Edg. Come on Sir,
Heere’s the place: stand still: how fearefull And dizie ’tis, to cast ones eyes so low, The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre Shew scarse so grosse as Beetles. Halfe way downe Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade: Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head. The Fishermen, that walk’d vpon the beach Appeare like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Barke, Diminish’d to her Cocke: her Cocke, a Buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge, That on th’ vnnumbred idle Pebble chafes Cannot be heard so high. Ile looke no more, Least my braine turne, and the deficient sight Topple downe headlong
Glou. Set me where you stand
Edg. Giue me your hand:
You are now within a foote of th’ extreme Verge: For all beneath the Moone would I not leape vpright
Glou. Let go my hand:
Heere Friend’s another purse: in it, a Iewell Well worth a poore mans taking. Fayries, and Gods Prosper it with thee. Go thou further off, Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going
Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir
Glou. With all my heart
Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire, Is done to cure it
Glou. O you mighty Gods!
This world I do renounce, and in your sights Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could beare it longer, and not fall To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes, My snuffe, and loathed part of Nature should
Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him: Now Fellow, fare thee well
Edg. Gone Sir, farewell:
And yet I know not how conceit may rob The Treasury of life, when life it selfe Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought, By this had thought bin past. Aliue, or dead? Hoa, you Sir: Friend, heare you Sir, speake: Thus might he passe indeed: yet he reuiues. What are you Sir?
Glou. Away, and let me dye
Edg. Had’st thou beene ought
But Gozemore, Feathers, Ayre,
(So many fathome downe precipitating) Thou’dst shiuer’d like an Egge: but thou do’st breath: Hast heauy substance, bleed’st not, speak’st, art sound, Ten Masts at each, make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell,
Thy life’s a Myracle. Speake yet againe
Glou. But haue I falne, or no?
Edg. From the dread Somnet of this Chalkie Bourne Looke vp a height, the shrill-gorg’d Larke so farre Cannot be seene, or heard: Do but looke vp
Glou. Alacke, I haue no eyes:
Is wretchednesse depriu’d that benefit To end it selfe by death? ‘Twas yet some comfort, When misery could beguile the Tyrants rage, And frustrate his proud will
Edg. Giue me your arme.
Vp, so: How is’t? Feele you your Legges? You stand
Glou. Too well, too well
Edg. This is aboue all strangenesse, Vpon the crowne o’th’ Cliffe. What thing was that Which parted from you?
Glou. A poore vnfortunate Beggar
Edg. As I stood heere below, me thought his eyes Were two full Moones: he had a thousand Noses, Hornes wealk’d, and waued like the enraged Sea: It was some Fiend: Therefore thou happy Father, Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who make them Honors Of mens Impossibilities, haue preserued thee
Glou. I do remember now: henceforth Ile beare Affliction, till it do cry out it selfe
Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you speake of, I tooke it for a man: often ‘twould say
The Fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place
Edgar. Beare free and patient thoughts. Enter Lear.
But who comes heere?
The safer sense will ne’re accommodate His Master thus
Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the King himselfe
Edg. O thou side-piercing sight!
Lear. Nature’s aboue Art, in that respect. Ther’s your Presse-money. That fellow handles his bow, like a Crowkeeper: draw mee a Cloathiers yard. Looke, looke, a Mouse: peace, peace, this peece of toasted Cheese will doo’t. There’s my Gauntlet, Ile proue it on a Gyant. Bring vp the browne Billes. O well flowne Bird: i’th’ clout, i’th’ clout: Hewgh. Giue the word
Edg. Sweet Mariorum
Lear. Passe
Glou. I know that voice
Lear. Ha! Gonerill with a white beard? They flatter’d me like a Dogge, and told mee I had the white hayres in my Beard, ere the blacke ones were there. To say I, and no, to euery thing that I said: I, and no too, was no good Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and the winde to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found ’em, there I smelt ’em out. Go too, they are not men o’their words; they told me, I was euery thing: ‘Tis a Lye, I am not Agu-proofe
Glou. The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember: Is’t not the King?
Lear. I, euery inch a King.
When I do stare, see how the Subiect quakes. I pardon that mans life. What was thy cause? Adultery? thou shalt not dye: dye for Adultery? No, the Wren goes too’t, and the small gilded Fly Do’s letcher in my sight. Let Copulation thriue: For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his Father, Then my Daughters got ‘tweene the lawfull sheets. Too’t Luxury pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers. Behold yond simpring Dame, whose face betweene her Forkes presages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do’s shake the head to heare of pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor the soyled Horse goes too’t with a more riotous appetite: Downe from the waste they are Centaures, though Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit, beneath is all the Fiends. There’s hell, there’s darkenes, there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption: Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce of Ciuet; good Apothecary sweeten my immagination: There’s money for thee
Glou. O let me kisse that hand
Lear. Let me wipe it first,
It smelles of Mortality
Glou. O ruin’d peece of Nature, this great world Shall so weare out to naught.
Do’st thou know me?
Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough: dost thou squiny at me? No, doe thy worst blinde Cupid, Ile not loue. Reade thou this challenge, marke but the penning of it
Glou. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not see
Edg. I would not take this from report, It is, and my heart breakes at it
Lear. Read
Glou. What with the Case of eyes?
Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No eies in your head, nor no mony in your purse? Your eyes are in a heauy case, your purse in a light, yet you see how this world goes
Glou. I see it feelingly
Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes, with no eyes. Looke with thine eares: See how yond Iustice railes vpon yond simple theefe. Hearke in thine eare: Change places, and handy-dandy, which is the Iustice, which is the theefe: Thou hast seene a Farmers dogge barke at a Beggar?
Glou. I Sir
Lear. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou might’st behold the great image of Authoritie, a Dogg’s obey’d in Office. Thou, Rascall Beadle, hold thy bloody hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy owne backe, thou hotly lusts to vse her in that kind, for which thou whip’st her. The Vsurer hangs the Cozener. Thorough tatter’d cloathes great Vices do appeare: Robes, and Furr’d gownes hide all. Place sinnes with Gold, and the strong Lance of Iustice, hurtlesse breakes: Arme it in ragges, a Pigmies straw do’s pierce it. None do’s offend, none, I say none, Ile able ’em; take that of me my Friend, who haue the power to seale th’ accusers lips. Get thee glasse-eyes, and like a scuruy Politician, seeme to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my Bootes: harder, harder, so
Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt, Reason in Madnesse
Lear. If thou wilt weepe my Fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well enough, thy name is Glouster: Thou must be patient; we came crying hither: Thou know’st, the first time that we smell the Ayre We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Marke
Glou. Alacke, alacke the day
Lear. When we are borne, we cry that we are come To this great stage of Fooles. This a good blocke: It were a delicate stratagem to shoo
A Troope of Horse with Felt: Ile put’t in proofe, And when I haue stolne vpon these Son in Lawes, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. Enter a Gentleman.
Gent. Oh heere he is: lay hand vpon him, Sir. Your most deere Daughter-
Lear. No rescue? What, a Prisoner? I am euen The Naturall Foole of Fortune. Vse me well, You shall haue ransome. Let me haue Surgeons, I am cut to’th’ Braines
Gent. You shall haue any thing
Lear. No Seconds? All my selfe?
Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt To vse his eyes for Garden water-pots. I wil die brauely, Like a smugge Bridegroome. What? I will be Iouiall: Come, come, I am a King, Masters, know you that? Gent. You are a Royall one, and we obey you
Lear. Then there’s life in’t. Come, and you get it, You shall get it by running: Sa, sa, sa, sa. Enter.
Gent. A sight most pittifull in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast a Daughter Who redeemes Nature from the generall curse Which twaine haue brought her to
Edg. Haile gentle Sir
Gent. Sir, speed you: what’s your will? Edg. Do you heare ought (Sir) of a Battell toward
Gent. Most sure, and vulgar:
Euery one heares that, which can distinguish sound
Edg. But by your fauour:
How neere’s the other Army?
Gent. Neere, and on speedy foot: the maine descry Stands on the hourely thought
Edg. I thanke you Sir, that’s all
Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here Her Army is mou’d on.
Enter.
Edg. I thanke you Sir
Glou. You euer gentle Gods, take my breath from me, Let not my worser Spirit tempt me againe To dye before you please
Edg. Well pray you Father
Glou. Now good sir, what are you?
Edg. A most poore man, made tame to Fortunes blows Who, by the Art of knowne, and feeling sorrowes, Am pregnant to good pitty. Giue me your hand, Ile leade you to some biding
Glou. Heartie thankes:
The bountie, and the benizon of Heauen To boot, and boot.
Enter Steward.
Stew. A proclaim’d prize: most happie That eyelesse head of thine, was first fram’d flesh To raise my fortunes. Thou old, vnhappy Traitor, Breefely thy selfe remember: the Sword is out That must destroy thee
Glou. Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough too’t
Stew. Wherefore, bold Pezant,
Dar’st thou support a publish’d Traitor? Hence, Least that th’ infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arme
Edg. Chill not let go Zir,
Without vurther ‘casion
Stew. Let go Slaue, or thou dy’st
Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, and let poore volke passe: and ‘chud ha’ bin zwaggerd out of my life, ‘twould not ha’ bin zo long as ’tis, by a vortnight. Nay, come not neere th’ old man: keepe out che vor’ ye, or Ile try whither your Costard, or my Ballow be the harder; chill be plaine with you
Stew. Out Dunghill
Edg. Chill picke your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor your foynes
Stew. Slaue thou hast slaine me: Villain, take my purse; If euer thou wilt thriue, bury my bodie, And giue the Letters which thou find’st about me, To Edmund Earle of Glouster: seeke him out Vpon the English party. Oh vntimely death, death
Edg. I know thee well. A seruiceable Villaine, As duteous to the vices of thy Mistris,
As badnesse would desire
Glou. What, is he dead?
Edg. Sit you downe Father: rest you. Let’s see these Pockets; the Letters that he speakes of May be my Friends: hee’s dead; I am onely sorry He had no other Deathsman. Let vs see:
Leaue gentle waxe, and manners: blame vs not To know our enemies mindes, we rip their hearts, Their Papers is more lawfull.
Reads the Letter.
Let our reciprocall vowes be remembred. You haue manie opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer’d. There is nothing done. If hee returne the Conqueror, then am I the Prisoner, and his bed, my Gaole, from the loathed warmth whereof, deliuer me, and supply the place for your Labour.
Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate Seruant. Gonerill.
Oh indistinguish’d space of Womans will, A plot vpon her vertuous Husbands life,
And the exchange my Brother: heere, in the sands Thee Ile rake vp, the poste vnsanctified Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time, With this vngracious paper strike the sight Of the death-practis’d Duke: for him ’tis well, That of thy death, and businesse, I can tell
Glou. The King is mad:
How stiffe is my vilde sense
That I stand vp, and haue ingenious feeling Of my huge Sorrowes? Better I were distract, So should my thoughts be seuer’d from my greefes,
Drum afarre off.
And woes, by wrong imaginations loose The knowledge of themselues
Edg. Giue me your hand:
Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten Drumme. Come Father, Ile bestow you with a Friend.
Exeunt.
Scaena Septima.
Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.
Cor. O thou good Kent,
How shall I liue and worke
To match thy goodnesse?
My life will be too short,
And euery measure faile me
Kent. To be acknowledg’d Madam is ore-pai’d, All my reports go with the modest truth, Nor more, nor clipt, but so
Cor. Be better suited,
These weedes are memories of those worser houres: I prythee put them off
Kent. Pardon deere Madam,
Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent, My boone I make it, that you know me not, Till time, and I, thinke meet
Cor. Then be’t so my good Lord:
How do’s the King?
Gent. Madam sleepes still
Cor. O you kind Gods!
Cure this great breach in his abused Nature, Th’ vntun’d and iarring senses, O winde vp, Of this childe-changed Father
Gent. So please your Maiesty,
That we may wake the King, he hath slept long? Cor. Be gouern’d by your knowledge, and proceede I’th’ sway of your owne will: is he array’d? Enter Lear in a chaire carried by Seruants] Gent. I Madam: in the heauinesse of sleepe, We put fresh garments on him.
Be by good Madam when we do awake him, I doubt of his Temperance
Cor. O my deere Father, restauratian hang Thy medicine on my lippes, and let this kisse Repaire those violent harmes, that my two Sisters Haue in thy Reuerence made
Kent. Kind and deere Princesse
Cor. Had you not bin their Father, these white flakes Did challenge pitty of them. Was this a face To be oppos’d against the iarring windes? Mine Enemies dogge, though he had bit me, Should haue stood that night against my fire, And was’t thou faine (poore Father)
To houell thee with Swine and Rogues forlorne, In short, and musty straw? Alacke, alacke, ‘Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once Had not concluded all. He wakes, speake to him
Gen. Madam do you, ’tis fittest
Cor. How does my Royall Lord?
How fares your Maiesty?
Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o’th’ graue, Thou art a Soule in blisse, but I am bound Vpon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares Do scal’d, like molten Lead
Cor. Sir, do you know me?
Lear. You are a spirit I know, where did you dye? Cor. Still, still, farre wide
Gen. He’s scarse awake,
Let him alone a while
Lear. Where haue I bin?
Where am I? Faire day light?
I am mightily abus’d; I should eu’n dye with pitty To see another thus. I know not what to say: I will not sweare these are my hands: let’s see, I feele this pin pricke, would I were assur’d Of my condition
Cor. O looke vpon me Sir,
And hold your hand in benediction o’re me, You must not kneele
Lear. Pray do not mocke me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourescore and vpward,
Not an houre more, nor lesse:
And to deale plainely,
I feare I am not in my perfect mind. Me thinkes I should know you, and know this man, Yet I am doubtfull: For I am mainely ignorant What place this is: and all the skill I haue Remembers not these garments: nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me, For (as I am a man) I thinke this Lady
To be my childe Cordelia
Cor. And so I am: I am
Lear. Be your teares wet?
Yes faith: I pray weepe not,
If you haue poyson for me, I will drinke it: I know you do not loue me, for your Sisters Haue (as I do remember) done me wrong.
You haue some cause, they haue not
Cor. No cause, no cause
Lear. Am I in France?
Kent. In your owne kingdome Sir
Lear. Do not abuse me
Gent. Be comforted good Madam, the great rage You see is kill’d in him: desire him to go in, Trouble him no more till further setling
Cor. Wilt please your Highnesse walke? Lear. You must beare with me:
Pray you now forget, and forgiue,
I am old and foolish.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter with Drumme and Colours, Edmund, Regan. Gentlemen, and Souldiers.
Bast. Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold, Or whether since he is aduis’d by ought
To change the course, he’s full of alteration, And selfereprouing, bring his constant pleasure
Reg. Our Sisters man is certainely miscarried
Bast. ‘Tis to be doubted Madam
Reg. Now sweet Lord,
You know the goodnesse I intend vpon you: Tell me but truly, but then speake the truth, Do you not loue my Sister?
Bast. In honour’d Loue
Reg. But haue you neuer found my Brothers way, To the fore-fended place?
Bast. No by mine honour, Madam
Reg. I neuer shall endure her, deere my Lord Be not familiar with her
Bast. Feare not, she and the Duke her husband. Enter with Drum and Colours, Albany, Gonerill, Soldiers.
Alb. Our very louing Sister, well be-met: Sir, this I heard, the King is come to his Daughter With others, whom the rigour of our State Forc’d to cry out
Regan. Why is this reasond?
Gone. Combine together ‘gainst the Enemie: For these domesticke and particular broiles, Are not the question heere
Alb. Let’s then determine with th’ ancient of warre On our proceeding
Reg. Sister you’le go with vs?
Gon. No
Reg. ‘Tis most conuenient, pray go with vs
Gon. Oh ho, I know the Riddle, I will goe.
Exeunt. both the Armies.
Enter Edgar.
Edg. If ere your Grace had speech with man so poore, Heare me one word
Alb. Ile ouertake you, speake
Edg. Before you fight the Battaile, ope this Letter: If you haue victory, let the Trumpet sound For him that brought it: wretched though I seeme, I can produce a Champion, that will proue What is auouched there. If you miscarry, Your businesse of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases. Fortune loues you
Alb. Stay till I haue read the Letter
Edg. I was forbid it:
When time shall serue, let but the Herald cry, And Ile appeare againe.
Enter.
Alb. Why farethee well, I will o’re-looke thy paper. Enter Edmund.
Bast. The Enemy’s in view, draw vp your powers, Heere is the guesse of their true strength and Forces, By dilligent discouerie, but your hast
Is now vrg’d on you
Alb. We will greet the time.
Enter.
Bast. To both these Sisters haue I sworne my loue: Each iealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the Adder. Which of them shall I take? Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enioy’d If both remaine aliue: To take the Widdow, Exasperates, makes mad her Sister Gonerill, And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being aliue. Now then, wee’l vse His countenance for the Battaile, which being done, Let her who would be rid of him, deuise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercie Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, The Battaile done, and they within our power, Shall neuer see his pardon: for my state, Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Alarum within. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Lear, Cordelia, and
Souldiers, ouer the Stage, and Exeunt. Enter Edgar, and Gloster.
Edg. Heere Father, take the shadow of this Tree For your good hoast: pray that the right may thriue: If euer I returne to you againe,
Ile bring you comfort
Glo. Grace go with you Sir.
Enter.
Alarum and Retreat within. Enter Edgar.
Edgar. Away old man, giue me thy hand, away: King Lear hath lost, he and his Daughter tane, Giue me thy hand: Come on
Glo. No further Sir, a man may rot euen heere
Edg. What in ill thoughts againe?
Men must endure
Their going hence, euen as their comming hither, Ripenesse is all come on
Glo. And that’s true too.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter in conquest with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Lear, and Cordelia, as
prisoners, Souldiers, Captaine.
Bast. Some Officers take them away: good guard, Vntill their greater pleasures first be knowne That are to censure them
Cor. We are not the first,
Who with best meaning haue incurr’d the worst:
For thee oppressed King I am cast downe, My selfe could else out-frowne false Fortunes frowne. Shall we not see these Daughters, and these Sisters? Lear. No, no, no, no: come let’s away to prison, We two alone will sing like Birds i’th’ Cage: When thou dost aske me blessing, Ile kneele downe And aske of thee forgiuenesse: So wee’l liue, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded Butterflies: and heere (poore Rogues) Talke of Court newes, and wee’l talke with them too, Who looses, and who wins; who’s in, who’s out; And take vpon’s the mystery of things,
As if we were Gods spies: And wee’l weare out In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great ones, That ebbe and flow by th’ Moone
Bast. Take them away
Lear. Vpon such sacrifices my Cordelia, The Gods themselues throw Incense.
Haue I caught thee?
He that parts vs, shall bring a Brand from Heauen, And fire vs hence, like Foxes: wipe thine eyes, The good yeares shall deuoure them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make vs weepe?
Weele see ’em staru’d first: come.
Enter.
Bast. Come hither Captaine, hearke.
Take thou this note, go follow them to prison, One step I haue aduanc’d thee, if thou do’st As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way To Noble Fortunes: know thou this, that men Are as the time is; to be tender minded
Do’s not become a Sword, thy great imployment Will not beare question: either say thou’lt do’t, Or thriue by other meanes
Capt. Ile do’t my Lord
Bast. About it, and write happy, when th’hast done, Marke I say instantly, and carry it so
As I haue set it downe.
Exit Captaine.
Flourish. Enter Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Soldiers.
Alb. Sir, you haue shew’d to day your valiant straine And Fortune led you well: you haue the Captiues Who were the opposites of this dayes strife: I do require them of you so to vse them, As we shall find their merites, and our safety May equally determine
Bast. Sir, I thought it fit,
To send the old and miserable King to some retention, Whose age had Charmes in it, whose Title more, To plucke the common bosome on his side, And turne our imprest Launces in our eies Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen: My reason all the same, and they are ready To morrow, or at further space, t’ appeare Where you shall hold your Session
Alb. Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subiect of this Warre, Not as a Brother
Reg. That’s as we list to grace him. Methinkes our pleasure might haue bin demanded Ere you had spoke so farre. He led our Powers, Bore the Commission of my place and person, The which immediacie may well stand vp,
And call it selfe your Brother
Gon. Not so hot:
In his owne grace he doth exalt himselfe, More then in your addition
Reg. In my rights,
By me inuested, he compeeres the best
Alb. That were the most, if he should husband you
Reg. Iesters do oft proue Prophets
Gon. Hola, hola,
That eye that told you so, look’d but a squint
Rega. Lady I am not well, else I should answere From a full flowing stomack. Generall,
Take thou my Souldiers, prisoners, patrimony, Dispose of them, of me, the walls is thine: Witnesse the world, that I create thee heere My Lord, and Master
Gon. Meane you to enioy him?
Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will
Bast. Nor in thine Lord
Alb. Halfe-blooded fellow, yes
Reg. Let the Drum strike, and proue my title thine
Alb. Stay yet, heare reason: Edmund, I arrest thee On capitall Treason; and in thy arrest,
This guilded Serpent: for your claime faire Sisters, I bare it in the interest of my wife,
‘Tis she is sub-contracted to this Lord, And I her husband contradict your Banes. If you will marry, make your loues to me, My Lady is bespoke
Gon. An enterlude
Alb. Thou art armed Gloster,
Let the Trumpet sound:
If none appeare to proue vpon thy person, Thy heynous, manifest, and many Treasons, There is my pledge: Ile make it on thy heart Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing lesse Then I haue heere proclaim’d thee
Reg. Sicke, O sicke
Gon. If not, Ile nere trust medicine
Bast. There’s my exchange, what in the world hes That names me Traitor, villain-like he lies, Call by the Trumpet: he that dares approach; On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine My truth and honor firmely.
Enter a Herald.
Alb. A Herald, ho.
Trust to thy single vertue, for thy Souldiers All leuied in my name, haue in my name
Tooke their discharge
Regan. My sicknesse growes vpon me
Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my Tent. Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet sound, And read out this.
A Trumpet sounds.
Herald reads.
If any man of qualitie or degree, within the lists of the Army, will maintaine vpon Edmund, supposed Earle of Gloster, that he is a manifold Traitor, let him appeare by the third