King Lear

[combinator]

SCENE VI. A chamber in a farmhouse adjoining the castle.

    Enter GLOUCESTER, KING LEAR, KENT, Fool, and EDGAR

GLOUCESTER

    Here is better than the open air; take it
    thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what
    addition I can: I will not be long from you.

KENT

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

    Exit GLOUCESTER

EDGAR

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

Fool

    Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a
    gentleman or a yeoman?

KING LEAR

    A king, a king!

Fool

    No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son;
    for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman
    before him.

KING LEAR

    To have a thousand with red burning spits
    Come hissing in upon 'em,--

EDGAR

    The foul fiend bites my back.

Fool

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

KING LEAR

    It shall be done; I will arraign them straight.

    To EDGAR
    Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer;

    To the Fool
    Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she foxes!

EDGAR

    Look, where he stands and glares!
    Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam?
    Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me,--

Fool

    Her boat hath a leak,
    And she must not speak
    Why she dares not come over to thee.

EDGAR

    The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a
    nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two
    white herring. Croak not, black angel; I have no
    food for thee.

KENT

    How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed:
    Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?

KING LEAR

    I'll see their trial first. Bring in the evidence.

    To EDGAR
    Thou robed man of justice, take thy place;

    To the Fool
    And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity,
    Bench by his side:

    To KENT
    you are o' the commission,
    Sit you too.

EDGAR

    Let us deal justly.
    Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd?
    Thy sheep be in the corn;
    And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,
    Thy sheep shall take no harm.
    Pur! the cat is gray.

KING LEAR

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

Fool

    Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?

KING LEAR

    She cannot deny it.

Fool

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

KING LEAR

    And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim
    What store her heart is made on. Stop her there!
    Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place!
    False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape?

EDGAR

    Bless thy five wits!

KENT

    O pity! Sir, where is the patience now,
    That thou so oft have boasted to retain?

EDGAR

    [Aside] My tears begin to take his part so much,
    They'll mar my counterfeiting.

KING LEAR

    The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and
    Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.

EDGAR

    Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs!
    Be thy mouth or black or white,
    Tooth that poisons if it bite;
    Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim,
    Hound or spaniel, brach or lym,
    Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail,
    Tom will make them weep and wail:
    For, with throwing thus my head,
    Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
    Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and
    fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

KING LEAR

    Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds
    about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that
    makes these hard hearts?

    To EDGAR
    You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I
    do not like the fashion of your garments: you will
    say they are Persian attire: but let them be changed.

KENT

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

KING LEAR

    Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains:
    so, so, so. We'll go to supper i' he morning. So, so, so.

Fool

    And I'll go to bed at noon.

    Re-enter GLOUCESTER

GLOUCESTER

    Come hither, friend: where is the king my master?

KENT

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

GLOUCESTER

    Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms;
    I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him:
    There is a litter ready; lay him in 't,
    And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
    Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master:
    If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life,
    With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
    Stand in assured loss: take up, take up;
    And follow me, that will to some provision
    Give thee quick conduct.

KENT

    Oppressed nature sleeps:
    This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses,
    Which, if convenience will not allow,
    Stand in hard cure.

    To the Fool
    Come, help to bear thy master;
    Thou must not stay behind.

GLOUCESTER

    Come, come, away.

    Exeunt all but EDGAR

EDGAR

    When we our betters see bearing our woes,
    We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
    Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind,
    Leaving free things and happy shows behind:
    But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip,
    When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
    How light and portable my pain seems now,
    When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
    He childed as I father'd! Tom, away!
    Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray,
    When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee,
    In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee.
    What will hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king!
    Lurk, lurk.

    Exit

[combinator]

SCENE VII. Gloucester's castle.

    Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GONERIL, EDMUND, and Servants

CORNWALL

    Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him
    this letter: the army of France is landed. Seek
    out the villain Gloucester.

    Exeunt some of the Servants

REGAN

    Hang him instantly.

GONERIL

    Pluck out his eyes.

CORNWALL

    Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our
    sister company: the revenges we are bound to take
    upon your traitorous father are not fit for your
    beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to
    a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the
    like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent
    betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister: farewell, my
    lord of Gloucester.

    Enter OSWALD
    How now! where's the king?

OSWALD

    My lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence:
    Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
    Hot questrists after him, met him at gate;
    Who, with some other of the lords dependants,
    Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast
    To have well-armed friends.

CORNWALL

    Get horses for your mistress.

GONERIL

    Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.

CORNWALL

    Edmund, farewell.

    Exeunt GONERIL, EDMUND, and OSWALD
    Go seek the traitor Gloucester,
    Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us.

    Exeunt other Servants
    Though well we may not pass upon his life
    Without the form of justice, yet our power
    Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men
    May blame, but not control. Who's there? the traitor?

    Enter GLOUCESTER, brought in by two or three

REGAN

    Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

CORNWALL

    Bind fast his corky arms.

GLOUCESTER

    What mean your graces? Good my friends, consider
    You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.

CORNWALL

    Bind him, I say.

    Servants bind him

REGAN

    Hard, hard. O filthy traitor!

GLOUCESTER

    Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none.

CORNWALL

    To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find--

    REGAN plucks his beard

GLOUCESTER

    By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
    To pluck me by the beard.

REGAN

    So white, and such a traitor!

GLOUCESTER

    Naughty lady,
    These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
    Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host:
    With robbers' hands my hospitable favours
    You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?

CORNWALL

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

REGAN

    Be simple answerer, for we know the truth.

CORNWALL

    And what confederacy have you with the traitors
    Late footed in the kingdom?

REGAN

    To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak.

GLOUCESTER

    I have a letter guessingly set down,
    Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
    And not from one opposed.

CORNWALL

    Cunning.

REGAN

    And false.

CORNWALL

    Where hast thou sent the king?

GLOUCESTER

    To Dover.

REGAN

    Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charged at peril--

CORNWALL

    Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that.

GLOUCESTER

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

REGAN

    Wherefore to Dover, sir?

GLOUCESTER

    Because I would not see thy cruel nails
    Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
    In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
    The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
    In hell-black night endured, would have buoy'd up,
    And quench'd the stelled fires:
    Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
    If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
    Thou shouldst have said 'Good porter, turn the key,'
    All cruels else subscribed: but I shall see
    The winged vengeance overtake such children.

CORNWALL

    See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
    Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.

GLOUCESTER

    He that will think to live till he be old,
    Give me some help! O cruel! O you gods!

REGAN

    One side will mock another; the other too.

CORNWALL

    If you see vengeance,--

First Servant

    Hold your hand, my lord:
    I have served you ever since I was a child;
    But better service have I never done you
    Than now to bid you hold.

REGAN

    How now, you dog!

First Servant

    If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
    I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?

CORNWALL

    My villain!

    They draw and fight

First Servant

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

REGAN

    Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus!

    Takes a sword, and runs at him behind

First Servant

    O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left
    To see some mischief on him. O!

    Dies

CORNWALL

    Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly!
    Where is thy lustre now?

GLOUCESTER

    All dark and comfortless. Where's my son Edmund?
    Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,
    To quit this horrid act.

REGAN

    Out, treacherous villain!
    Thou call'st on him that hates thee: it was he
    That made the overture of thy treasons to us;
    Who is too good to pity thee.

GLOUCESTER

    O my follies! then Edgar was abused.
    Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!

REGAN

    Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
    His way to Dover.

    Exit one with GLOUCESTER
    How is't, my lord? how look you?

CORNWALL

    I have received a hurt: follow me, lady.
    Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave
    Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace:
    Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm.

    Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN

Second Servant

    I'll never care what wickedness I do,
    If this man come to good.

Third Servant

    If she live long,
    And in the end meet the old course of death,
    Women will all turn monsters.

Second Servant

    Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam
    To lead him where he would: his roguish madness
    Allows itself to any thing.

Third Servant

    Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs
    To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him!

    Exeunt severally

[combinator]

SCENE I. The heath.

    Enter EDGAR

EDGAR

    Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
    Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
    The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,
    Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear:
    The lamentable change is from the best;
    The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,
    Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!
    The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst
    Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here?

    Enter GLOUCESTER, led by an Old Man
    My father, poorly led? World, world, O world!
    But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
    Lie would not yield to age.

Old Man

    O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and
    your father's tenant, these fourscore years.

GLOUCESTER

    Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:
    Thy comforts can do me no good at all;
    Thee they may hurt.

Old Man

    Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.

GLOUCESTER

    I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
    I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen,
    Our means secure us, and our mere defects
    Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,
    The food of thy abused father's wrath!
    Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
    I'ld say I had eyes again!

Old Man

    How now! Who's there?

EDGAR

    [Aside] O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at
    the worst'?
    I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man

    'Tis poor mad Tom.

EDGAR

    [Aside] And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
    So long as we can say 'This is the worst.'

Old Man

    Fellow, where goest?

GLOUCESTER

    Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man

    Madman and beggar too.

GLOUCESTER

    He has some reason, else he could not beg.
    I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
    Which made me think a man a worm: my son
    Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
    Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard
    more since.
    As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods.
    They kill us for their sport.

EDGAR

    [Aside] How should this be?
    Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
    Angering itself and others.--Bless thee, master!

GLOUCESTER

    Is that the naked fellow?

Old Man

    Ay, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

    Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake,
    Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,
    I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;
    And bring some covering for this naked soul,
    Who I'll entreat to lead me.

Old Man

    Alack, sir, he is mad.

GLOUCESTER

    'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
    Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;
    Above the rest, be gone.

Old Man

    I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,
    Come on't what will.

    Exit

GLOUCESTER

    Sirrah, naked fellow,--

EDGAR

    Poor Tom's a-cold.

    Aside
    I cannot daub it further.

GLOUCESTER

    Come hither, fellow.

EDGAR

    [Aside] And yet I must.--Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

GLOUCESTER

    Know'st thou the way to Dover?

EDGAR

    Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor
    Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless
    thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! five
    fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as
    Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of
    stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of
    mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids
    and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master!

GLOUCESTER

    Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues
    Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
    Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still!
    Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,
    That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
    Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;
    So distribution should undo excess,
    And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?

EDGAR

    Ay, master.

GLOUCESTER

    There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
    Looks fearfully in the confined deep:
    Bring me but to the very brim of it,
    And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear
    With something rich about me: from that place
    I shall no leading need.

EDGAR

    Give me thy arm:
    Poor Tom shall lead thee.

    Exeunt

[combinator]

SCENE II. Before ALBANY's palace.

    Enter GONERIL and EDMUND

GONERIL

    Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband
    Not met us on the way.

    Enter OSWALD
    Now, where's your master'?

OSWALD

    Madam, within; but never man so changed.
    I told him of the army that was landed;
    He smiled at it: I told him you were coming:
    His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery,
    And of the loyal service of his son,
    When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot,
    And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:
    What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
    What like, offensive.

GONERIL

    [To EDMUND] Then shall you go no further.
    It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
    That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs
    Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
    May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
    Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:
    I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
    Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
    Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
    If you dare venture in your own behalf,
    A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;

    Giving a favour
    Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
    Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:
    Conceive, and fare thee well.

EDMUND

    Yours in the ranks of death.

GONERIL

    My most dear Gloucester!

    Exit EDMUND
    O, the difference of man and man!
    To thee a woman's services are due:
    My fool usurps my body.

OSWALD

    Madam, here comes my lord.

    Exit

    Enter ALBANY

GONERIL

    I have been worth the whistle.

ALBANY

    O Goneril!
    You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
    Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:
    That nature, which contemns its origin,
    Cannot be border'd certain in itself;
    She that herself will sliver and disbranch
    From her material sap, perforce must wither
    And come to deadly use.

GONERIL

    No more; the text is foolish.

ALBANY

    Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
    Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
    Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
    A father, and a gracious aged man,
    Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
    Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
    Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
    A man, a prince, by him so benefited!
    If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
    Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
    It will come,
    Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
    Like monsters of the deep.

GONERIL

    Milk-liver'd man!
    That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
    Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
    Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st
    Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd
    Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
    France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
    With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;
    Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest
    'Alack, why does he so?'

ALBANY

    See thyself, devil!
    Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
    So horrid as in woman.

GONERIL

    O vain fool!

ALBANY

    Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,
    Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
    To let these hands obey my blood,
    They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
    Thy flesh and bones: howe'er thou art a fiend,
    A woman's shape doth shield thee.

GONERIL

    Marry, your manhood now--

    Enter a Messenger

ALBANY

    What news?

Messenger

    O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
    Slain by his servant, going to put out
    The other eye of Gloucester.

ALBANY

    Gloucester's eye!

Messenger

    A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
    Opposed against the act, bending his sword
    To his great master; who, thereat enraged,
    Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;
    But not without that harmful stroke, which since
    Hath pluck'd him after.

ALBANY

    This shows you are above,
    You justicers, that these our nether crimes
    So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!
    Lost he his other eye?

Messenger

    Both, both, my lord.
    This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
    'Tis from your sister.

GONERIL

    [Aside] One way I like this well;
    But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,
    May all the building in my fancy pluck
    Upon my hateful life: another way,
    The news is not so tart.--I'll read, and answer.

    Exit

ALBANY

    Where was his son when they did take his eyes?

Messenger

    Come with my lady hither.

ALBANY

    He is not here.

Messenger

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

ALBANY

    Knows he the wickedness?

Messenger

    Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
    And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
    Might have the freer course.

ALBANY

    Gloucester, I live
    To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
    And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend:
    Tell me what more thou know'st.

    Exeunt

[combinator]

SCENE III. The French camp near Dover.

    Enter KENT and a Gentleman

KENT

    Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back
    know you the reason?

Gentleman

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

KENT

    Who hath he left behind him general?

Gentleman

    The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.

KENT

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

Gentleman

    Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;
    And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
    Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen
    Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
    Sought to be king o'er her.

KENT

    O, then it moved her.

Gentleman

    Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove
    Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
    Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
    Were like a better way: those happy smilets,
    That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
    What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
    As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
    Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
    If all could so become it.

KENT

    Made she no verbal question?

Gentleman

    'Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father'
    Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart:
    Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters!
    Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night?
    Let pity not be believed!' There she shook
    The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
    And clamour moisten'd: then away she started
    To deal with grief alone.

KENT

    It is the stars,
    The stars above us, govern our conditions;
    Else one self mate and mate could not beget
    Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?

Gentleman

    No.

KENT

    Was this before the king return'd?

Gentleman

    No, since.

KENT

    Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town;
    Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
    What we are come about, and by no means
    Will yield to see his daughter.

Gentleman

    Why, good sir?

KENT

    A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,
    That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
    To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
    To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting
    His mind so venomously, that burning shame
    Detains him from Cordelia.

Gentleman

    Alack, poor gentleman!

KENT

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

Gentleman

    'Tis so, they are afoot.

KENT

    Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
    And leave you to attend him: some dear cause
    Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;
    When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
    Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
    Along with me.

    Exeunt

[combinator]

SCENE IV. The same. A tent.

    Enter, with drum and colours, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers

CORDELIA

    Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now
    As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud;
    Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
    With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
    Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
    In our sustaining corn. A century send forth;
    Search every acre in the high-grown field,
    And bring him to our eye.

    Exit an Officer
    What can man's wisdom
    In the restoring his bereaved sense?
    He that helps him take all my outward worth.

Doctor

    There is means, madam:
    Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,
    The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
    Are many simples operative, whose power
    Will close the eye of anguish.

CORDELIA

    All blest secrets,
    All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
    Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate
    In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him;
    Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
    That wants the means to lead it.

    Enter a Messenger

Messenger

    News, madam;
    The British powers are marching hitherward.

CORDELIA

    'Tis known before; our preparation stands
    In expectation of them. O dear father,
    It is thy business that I go about;
    Therefore great France
    My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
    No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
    But love, dear love, and our aged father's right:
    Soon may I hear and see him!

    Exeunt

[combinator]

SCENE V. Gloucester's castle.

    Enter REGAN and OSWALD

REGAN

    But are my brother's powers set forth?

OSWALD

    Ay, madam.

REGAN

    Himself in person there?

OSWALD

    Madam, with much ado:
    Your sister is the better soldier.

REGAN

    Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?

OSWALD

    No, madam.

REGAN

    What might import my sister's letter to him?

OSWALD

    I know not, lady.

REGAN

    'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
    It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out,
    To let him live: where he arrives he moves
    All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
    In pity of his misery, to dispatch
    His nighted life: moreover, to descry
    The strength o' the enemy.

OSWALD

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

REGAN

    Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us;
    The ways are dangerous.

OSWALD

    I may not, madam:
    My lady charged my duty in this business.

REGAN

    Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you
    Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
    Something--I know not what: I'll love thee much,
    Let me unseal the letter.

OSWALD

    Madam, I had rather--

REGAN

    I know your lady does not love her husband;
    I am sure of that: and at her late being here
    She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks
    To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.

OSWALD

    I, madam?

REGAN

    I speak in understanding; you are; I know't:
    Therefore I do advise you, take this note:
    My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;
    And more convenient is he for my hand
    Than for your lady's: you may gather more.
    If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
    And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
    I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.
    So, fare you well.
    If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
    Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

OSWALD

    Would I could meet him, madam! I should show
    What party I do follow.

REGAN

    Fare thee well.

    Exeunt

[combinator]

SCENE VI. Fields near Dover.

    Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant

GLOUCESTER

    When shall we come to the top of that same hill?

EDGAR

    You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.

GLOUCESTER

    Methinks the ground is even.

EDGAR

    Horrible steep.
    Hark, do you hear the sea?

GLOUCESTER

    No, truly.

EDGAR

    Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect
    By your eyes' anguish.

GLOUCESTER

    So may it be, indeed:
    Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
    In better phrase and matter than thou didst.

EDGAR

    You're much deceived: in nothing am I changed
    But in my garments.

GLOUCESTER

    Methinks you're better spoken.

EDGAR

    Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful
    And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
    The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
    Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
    Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!
    Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
    The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
    Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
    Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
    Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
    That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
    Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more;
    Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
    Topple down headlong.

GLOUCESTER

    Set me where you stand.

EDGAR

    Give me your hand: you are now within a foot
    Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
    Would I not leap upright.

GLOUCESTER

    Let go my hand.
    Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel
    Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods
    Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off;
    Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

EDGAR

    Now fare you well, good sir.

GLOUCESTER

    With all my heart.

EDGAR

    Why I do trifle thus with his despair
    Is done to cure it.

GLOUCESTER

    [Kneeling] O you mighty gods!
    This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,
    Shake patiently my great affliction off:
    If I could bear it longer, and not fall
    To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
    My snuff and loathed part of nature should
    Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!
    Now, fellow, fare thee well.

    He falls forward

EDGAR

    Gone, sir: farewell.
    And yet I know not how conceit may rob
    The treasury of life, when life itself
    Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought,
    By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead?
    Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak!
    Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives.
    What are you, sir?

GLOUCESTER

    Away, and let me die.

EDGAR

    Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,
    So many fathom down precipitating,
    Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;
    Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.
    Ten masts at each make not the altitude
    Which thou hast perpendicularly fell:
    Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.

GLOUCESTER

    But have I fall'n, or no?

EDGAR

    From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
    Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so far
    Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.

GLOUCESTER

    Alack, I have no eyes.
    Is wretchedness deprived that benefit,
    To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
    When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
    And frustrate his proud will.

EDGAR

    Give me your arm:
    Up: so. How is 't? Feel you your legs? You stand.

GLOUCESTER

    Too well, too well.

EDGAR

    This is above all strangeness.
    Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that
    Which parted from you?

GLOUCESTER

    A poor unfortunate beggar.

EDGAR

    As I stood here below, methought his eyes
    Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
    Horns whelk'd and waved like the enridged sea:
    It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father,
    Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours
    Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee.

GLOUCESTER

    I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
    Affliction till it do cry out itself
    'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of,
    I took it for a man; often 'twould say
    'The fiend, the fiend:' he led me to that place.

EDGAR

    Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here?

    Enter KING LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers
    The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
    His master thus.

KING LEAR

    No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the
    king himself.

EDGAR

    O thou side-piercing sight!

KING LEAR

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

EDGAR

    Sweet marjoram.

KING LEAR

    Pass.

GLOUCESTER

    I know that voice.

KING LEAR

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

GLOUCESTER

    The trick of that voice I do well remember:
    Is 't not the king?

KING LEAR

    Ay, every inch a king:
    When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
    I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery?
    Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No:
    The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly
    Does lecher in my sight.
    Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son
    Was kinder to his father than my daughters
    Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
    To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.
    Behold yond simpering dame,
    Whose face between her forks presages snow;
    That minces virtue, and does shake the head
    To hear of pleasure's name;
    The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't
    With a more riotous appetite.
    Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
    Though women all above:
    But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
    Beneath is all the fiends';
    There's hell, there's darkness, there's the
    sulphurous pit,
    Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie,
    fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet,
    good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination:
    there's money for thee.

GLOUCESTER

    O, let me kiss that hand!

KING LEAR

    Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

GLOUCESTER

    O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
    Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me?

KING LEAR

    I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny
    at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not
    love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the
    penning of it.

GLOUCESTER

    Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.

EDGAR

    I would not take this from report; it is,
    And my heart breaks at it.

KING LEAR

    Read.

GLOUCESTER

    What, with the case of eyes?

KING LEAR

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

GLOUCESTER

    I see it feelingly.

KING LEAR

    What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes
    with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond
    justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in
    thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, which
    is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen
    a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?

GLOUCESTER

    Ay, sir.

KING LEAR

    And the creature run from the cur? There thou
    mightst behold the great image of authority: a
    dog's obeyed in office.
    Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
    Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back;
    Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
    For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.
    Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
    Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
    And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
    Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
    None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em:
    Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
    To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
    And like a scurvy politician, seem
    To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now:
    Pull off my boots: harder, harder: so.

EDGAR

    O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness!

KING LEAR

    If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
    I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester:
    Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
    Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
    We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark.

GLOUCESTER

    Alack, alack the day!

KING LEAR

    When we are born, we cry that we are come
    To this great stage of fools: this a good block;
    It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
    A troop of horse with felt: I'll put 't in proof;
    And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
    Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

    Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants

Gentleman

    O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir,
    Your most dear daughter--

KING LEAR

    No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even
    The natural fool of fortune. Use me well;
    You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons;
    I am cut to the brains.

Gentleman

    You shall have any thing.

KING LEAR

    No seconds? all myself?
    Why, this would make a man a man of salt,
    To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
    Ay, and laying autumn's dust.

Gentleman

    Good sir,--

KING LEAR

    I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What!
    I will be jovial: come, come; I am a king,
    My masters, know you that.

Gentleman

    You are a royal one, and we obey you.

KING LEAR

    Then there's life in't. Nay, if you get it, you
    shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

    Exit running; Attendants follow

Gentleman

    A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
    Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter,
    Who redeems nature from the general curse
    Which twain have brought her to.

EDGAR

    Hail, gentle sir.

Gentleman

    Sir, speed you: what's your will?

EDGAR

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

Gentleman

    Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that,
    Which can distinguish sound.

EDGAR

    But, by your favour,
    How near's the other army?

Gentleman

    Near and on speedy foot; the main descry
    Stands on the hourly thought.

EDGAR

    I thank you, sir: that's all.

Gentleman

    Though that the queen on special cause is here,
    Her army is moved on.

EDGAR

    I thank you, sir.

    Exit Gentleman

GLOUCESTER

    You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me:
    Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
    To die before you please!

EDGAR

    Well pray you, father.

GLOUCESTER

    Now, good sir, what are you?

EDGAR

    A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows;
    Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
    Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
    I'll lead you to some biding.

GLOUCESTER

    Hearty thanks:
    The bounty and the benison of heaven
    To boot, and boot!

    Enter OSWALD

OSWALD

    A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
    That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh
    To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
    Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out
    That must destroy thee.

GLOUCESTER

    Now let thy friendly hand
    Put strength enough to't.

    EDGAR interposes

OSWALD

    Wherefore, bold peasant,
    Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
    Lest that the infection of his fortune take
    Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

EDGAR

    Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion.

OSWALD

    Let go, slave, or thou diest!

EDGAR

    Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk
    pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life,
    'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight.
    Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vor
    ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be
    the harder: ch'ill be plain with you.

OSWALD

    Out, dunghill!

EDGAR

    Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor
    your foins.

    They fight, and EDGAR knocks him down

OSWALD

    Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse:
    If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
    And give the letters which thou find'st about me
    To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out
    Upon the British party: O, untimely death!

    Dies

EDGAR

    I know thee well: a serviceable villain;
    As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
    As badness would desire.

GLOUCESTER

    What, is he dead?

EDGAR

    Sit you down, father; rest you
    Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of
    May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry
    He had no other death's-man. Let us see:
    Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
    To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts;
    Their papers, is more lawful.

    Reads
    'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have
    many opportunities to cut him off: if your will
    want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered.
    There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror:
    then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from
    the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply
    the place for your labour.
    'Your--wife, so I would say--
    'Affectionate servant,
    'GONERIL.'
    O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!
    A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
    And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands,
    Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
    Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time
    With this ungracious paper strike the sight
    Of the death practised duke: for him 'tis well
    That of thy death and business I can tell.

GLOUCESTER

    The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense,
    That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling
    Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
    So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
    And woes by wrong imaginations lose
    The knowledge of themselves.

EDGAR

    Give me your hand:

    Drum afar off
    Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum:
    Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.

    Exeunt

[combinator]

SCENE VII. A tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed asleep,

    soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending.

    Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor

CORDELIA

    O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work,
    To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
    And every measure fail me.

KENT

    To be acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid.
    All my reports go with the modest truth;
    Nor more nor clipp'd, but so.

CORDELIA

    Be better suited:
    These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
    I prithee, put them off.

KENT

    Pardon me, dear madam;
    Yet to be known shortens my made intent:
    My boon I make it, that you know me not
    Till time and I think meet.

CORDELIA

    Then be't so, my good lord.

    To the Doctor
    How does the king?

Doctor

    Madam, sleeps still.

CORDELIA

    O you kind gods,
    Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
    The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up
    Of this child-changed father!

Doctor

    So please your majesty
    That we may wake the king: he hath slept long.

CORDELIA

    Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
    I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?

Gentleman

    Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep
    We put fresh garments on him.

Doctor

    Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
    I doubt not of his temperance.

CORDELIA

    Very well.

Doctor

    Please you, draw near. Louder the music there!

CORDELIA

    O my dear father! Restoration hang
    Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
    Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
    Have in thy reverence made!

KENT

    Kind and dear princess!

CORDELIA

    Had you not been their father, these white flakes
    Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
    To be opposed against the warring winds?
    To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
    In the most terrible and nimble stroke
    Of quick, cross lightning? to watch--poor perdu!--
    With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog,
    Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
    Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
    To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
    In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
    'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
    Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.

Doctor

    Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.

CORDELIA

    How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

KING LEAR

    You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave:
    Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
    Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
    Do scald like moulten lead.

CORDELIA

    Sir, do you know me?

KING LEAR

    You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

CORDELIA

    Still, still, far wide!

Doctor

    He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

KING LEAR

    Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
    I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity,
    To see another thus. I know not what to say.
    I will not swear these are my hands: let's see;
    I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
    Of my condition!

CORDELIA

    O, look upon me, sir,
    And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:
    No, sir, you must not kneel.

KING LEAR

    Pray, do not mock me:
    I am a very foolish fond old man,
    Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
    And, to deal plainly,
    I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
    Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
    Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant
    What place this is; and all the skill I have
    Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
    Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
    For, as I am a man, I think this lady
    To be my child Cordelia.

CORDELIA

    And so I am, I am.

KING LEAR

    Be your tears wet? yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:
    If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
    I know you do not love me; for your sisters
    Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
    You have some cause, they have not.

CORDELIA

    No cause, no cause.

KING LEAR

    Am I in France?

KENT

    In your own kingdom, sir.

KING LEAR

    Do not abuse me.

Doctor

    Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,
    You see, is kill'd in him: and yet it is danger
    To make him even o'er the time he has lost.
    Desire him to go in; trouble him no more
    Till further settling.

CORDELIA

    Will't please your highness walk?

KING LEAR

    You must bear with me:
    Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

    Exeunt all but KENT and Gentleman

Gentleman

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

KENT

    Most certain, sir.

Gentleman

    Who is conductor of his people?

KENT

    As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.

Gentleman

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

KENT

    Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the
    powers of the kingdom approach apace.

Gentleman

    The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you
    well, sir.

    Exit

KENT

    My point and period will be throughly wrought,
    Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought.

    Exit

[combinator]

SCENE I. The British camp, near Dover.

    Enter, with drum and colours, EDMUND, REGAN, Gentlemen, and Soldiers.

EDMUND

    Know of the duke if his last purpose hold,
    Or whether since he is advised by aught
    To change the course: he's full of alteration
    And self-reproving: bring his constant pleasure.

    To a Gentleman, who goes out

REGAN

    Our sister's man is certainly miscarried.

EDMUND

    'Tis to be doubted, madam.

REGAN

    Now, sweet lord,
    You know the goodness I intend upon you:
    Tell me--but truly--but then speak the truth,
    Do you not love my sister?

EDMUND

    In honour'd love.

REGAN

    But have you never found my brother's way
    To the forfended place?

EDMUND

    That thought abuses you.

REGAN

    I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
    And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers.

EDMUND

    No, by mine honour, madam.

REGAN

    I never shall endure her: dear my lord,
    Be not familiar with her.

EDMUND

    Fear me not:
    She and the duke her husband!

    Enter, with drum and colours, ALBANY, GONERIL, and Soldiers

GONERIL

    [Aside] I had rather lose the battle than that sister
    Should loosen him and me.

ALBANY

    Our very loving sister, well be-met.
    Sir, this I hear; the king is come to his daughter,
    With others whom the rigor of our state
    Forced to cry out. Where I could not be honest,
    I never yet was valiant: for this business,
    It toucheth us, as France invades our land,
    Not bolds the king, with others, whom, I fear,
    Most just and heavy causes make oppose.

EDMUND

    Sir, you speak nobly.

REGAN

    Why is this reason'd?

GONERIL

    Combine together 'gainst the enemy;
    For these domestic and particular broils
    Are not the question here.

ALBANY

    Let's then determine
    With the ancient of war on our proceedings.

EDMUND

    I shall attend you presently at your tent.

REGAN

    Sister, you'll go with us?

GONERIL

    No.

REGAN

    'Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us.

GONERIL

    [Aside] O, ho, I know the riddle.--I will go.

    As they are going out, enter EDGAR disguised

EDGAR

    If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor,
    Hear me one word.

ALBANY

    I'll overtake you. Speak.

    Exeunt all but ALBANY and EDGAR

EDGAR

    Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
    If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
    For him that brought it: wretched though I seem,
    I can produce a champion that will prove
    What is avouched there. If you miscarry,
    Your business of the world hath so an end,
    And machination ceases. Fortune love you.

ALBANY

    Stay till I have read the letter.

EDGAR

    I was forbid it.
    When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,
    And I'll appear again.

ALBANY

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

    Exit EDGAR

    Re-enter EDMUND

EDMUND

    The enemy's in view; draw up your powers.
    Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
    By diligent discovery; but your haste
    Is now urged on you.

ALBANY

    We will greet the time.

    Exit

EDMUND

    To both these sisters have I sworn my love;
    Each jealous of the other, as the stung
    Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
    Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,
    If both remain alive: to take the widow
    Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
    And hardly shall I carry out my side,
    Her husband being alive. Now then we'll use
    His countenance for the battle; which being done,
    Let her who would be rid of him devise
    His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
    Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
    The battle done, and they within our power,
    Shall never see his pardon; for my state
    Stands on me to defend, not to debate.

    Exit

[combinator]

SCENE II. A field between the two camps.

    Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours, KING LEAR, CORDELIA, and Soldiers, over the stage; and exeunt

    Enter EDGAR and GLOUCESTER

EDGAR

    Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
    For your good host; pray that the right may thrive:
    If ever I return to you again,
    I'll bring you comfort.

GLOUCESTER

    Grace go with you, sir!

    Exit EDGAR

    Alarum and retreat within. Re-enter EDGAR

EDGAR

    Away, old man; give me thy hand; away!
    King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en:
    Give me thy hand; come on.

GLOUCESTER

    No farther, sir; a man may rot even here.

EDGAR

    What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
    Their going hence, even as their coming hither;
    Ripeness is all: come on.

GLOUCESTER

    And that's true too.

    Exeunt

[combinator]

SCENE III. The British camp near Dover.

    Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, EDMUND, KING LEAR and CORDELIA, prisoners; Captain, Soldiers, & c

EDMUND

    Some officers take them away: good guard,
    Until their greater pleasures first be known
    That are to censure them.

CORDELIA

    We are not the first
    Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst.
    For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;
    Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.
    Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?

KING LEAR

    No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
    We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
    When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
    And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,
    And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
    At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
    Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
    Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
    And take upon's the mystery of things,
    As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
    In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
    That ebb and flow by the moon.

EDMUND

    Take them away.

KING LEAR

    Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
    The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?
    He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven,
    And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes;
    The good-years shall devour them, flesh and fell,
    Ere they shall make us weep: we'll see 'em starve
    first. Come.

    Exeunt KING LEAR and CORDELIA, guarded

EDMUND

    Come hither, captain; hark.
    Take thou this note;

    Giving a paper
    go follow them to prison:
    One step I have advanced thee; if thou dost
    As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
    To noble fortunes: know thou this, that men
    Are as the time is: to be tender-minded
    Does not become a sword: thy great employment
    Will not bear question; either say thou'lt do 't,
    Or thrive by other means.

Captain

    I'll do 't, my lord.

EDMUND

    About it; and write happy when thou hast done.
    Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so
    As I have set it down.

Captain

    I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats;
    If it be man's work, I'll do 't.

    Exit

    Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, another Captain, and Soldiers

ALBANY

    Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain,
    And fortune led you well: you have the captives
    That were the opposites of this day's strife:
    We do require them of you, so to use them
    As we shall find their merits and our safety
    May equally determine.

EDMUND

    Sir, I thought it fit
    To send the old and miserable king
    To some retention and appointed guard;
    Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
    To pluck the common bosom on his side,
    An turn our impress'd lances in our eyes
    Which do command them. With him I sent the queen;
    My reason all the same; and they are ready
    To-morrow, or at further space, to appear
    Where you shall hold your session. At this time
    We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
    And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed
    By those that feel their sharpness:
    The question of Cordelia and her father
    Requires a fitter place.

ALBANY

    Sir, by your patience,
    I hold you but a subject of this war,
    Not as a brother.

REGAN

    That's as we list to grace him.
    Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded,
    Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers;
    Bore the commission of my place and person;
    The which immediacy may well stand up,
    And call itself your brother.

GONERIL

    Not so hot:
    In his own grace he doth exalt himself,
    More than in your addition.

REGAN

    In my rights,
    By me invested, he compeers the best.

GONERIL

    That were the most, if he should husband you.

REGAN

    Jesters do oft prove prophets.

GONERIL

    Holla, holla!
    That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint.

REGAN

    Lady, I am not well; else I should answer
    From a full-flowing stomach. General,
    Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;
    Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine:
    Witness the world, that I create thee here
    My lord and master.

GONERIL

    Mean you to enjoy him?

ALBANY

    The let-alone lies not in your good will.

EDMUND

    Nor in thine, lord.

ALBANY

    Half-blooded fellow, yes.

REGAN

    [To EDMUND] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.

ALBANY

    Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee
    On capital treason; and, in thine attaint,
    This gilded serpent

    Pointing to Goneril
    For your claim, fair sister,
    I bar it in the interest of my wife:
    'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
    And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
    If you will marry, make your loves to me,
    My lady is bespoke.

GONERIL

    An interlude!

ALBANY

    Thou art arm'd, Gloucester: let the trumpet sound:
    If none appear to prove upon thy head
    Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
    There is my pledge;

    Throwing down a glove
    I'll prove it on thy heart,
    Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
    Than I have here proclaim'd thee.

REGAN

    Sick, O, sick!

GONERIL

    [Aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine.

EDMUND

    There's my exchange:

    Throwing down a glove
    what in the world he is
    That names me traitor, villain-like he lies:
    Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
    On him, on you, who not? I will maintain
    My truth and honour firmly.

ALBANY

    A herald, ho!

EDMUND

    A herald, ho, a herald!

ALBANY

    Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,
    All levied in my name, have in my name
    Took their discharge.

REGAN

    My sickness grows upon me.

ALBANY

    She is not well; convey her to my tent.

    Exit Regan, led

    Enter a Herald
    Come hither, herald,--Let the trumpet sound,
    And read out this.

Captain

    Sound, trumpet!

    A trumpet sounds

Herald

    [Reads] 'If any man of quality or degree within
    the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund,
    supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold
    traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the
    trumpet: he is bold in his defence.'

EDMUND

    Sound!

    First trumpet

Herald

    Again!

    Second trumpet

Herald

    Again!

    Third trumpet

    Trumpet answers within

    Enter EDGAR, at the third sound, armed, with a trumpet before him

ALBANY

    Ask him his purposes, why he appears
    Upon this call o' the trumpet.

Herald

    What are you?
    Your name, your quality? and why you answer
    This present summons?

EDGAR

    Know, my name is lost;
    By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit:
    Yet am I noble as the adversary
    I come to cope.

ALBANY

    Which is that adversary?

EDGAR

    What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester?

EDMUND

    Himself: what say'st thou to him?

EDGAR

    Draw thy sword,
    That, if my speech offend a noble heart,
    Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.
    Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
    My oath, and my profession: I protest,
    Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
    Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune,
    Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor;
    False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
    Conspirant 'gainst this high-illustrious prince;
    And, from the extremest upward of thy head
    To the descent and dust below thy foot,
    A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'No,'
    This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
    To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
    Thou liest.

EDMUND

    In wisdom I should ask thy name;
    But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
    And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,
    What safe and nicely I might well delay
    By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn:
    Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;
    With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;
    Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,
    This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
    Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak!

    Alarums. They fight. EDMUND falls

ALBANY

    Save him, save him!

GONERIL

    This is practise, Gloucester:
    By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
    An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd,
    But cozen'd and beguiled.

ALBANY

    Shut your mouth, dame,
    Or with this paper shall I stop it: Hold, sir:
    Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil:
    No tearing, lady: I perceive you know it.

    Gives the letter to EDMUND

GONERIL

    Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine:
    Who can arraign me for't.

ALBANY

    Most monstrous! oh!
    Know'st thou this paper?

GONERIL

    Ask me not what I know.

    Exit

ALBANY

    Go after her: she's desperate; govern her.

EDMUND

    What you have charged me with, that have I done;
    And more, much more; the time will bring it out:
    'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou
    That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble,
    I do forgive thee.

EDGAR

    Let's exchange charity.
    I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
    If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me.
    My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
    The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
    Make instruments to plague us:
    The dark and vicious place where thee he got
    Cost him his eyes.

EDMUND

    Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true;
    The wheel is come full circle: I am here.

ALBANY

    Methought thy very gait did prophesy
    A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee:
    Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
    Did hate thee or thy father!

EDGAR

    Worthy prince, I know't.

ALBANY

    Where have you hid yourself?
    How have you known the miseries of your father?

EDGAR

    By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale;
    And when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!
    The bloody proclamation to escape,
    That follow'd me so near,--O, our lives' sweetness!
    That we the pain of death would hourly die
    Rather than die at once!--taught me to shift
    Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
    That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
    Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
    Their precious stones new lost: became his guide,
    Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair;
    Never,--O fault!--reveal'd myself unto him,
    Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd:
    Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
    I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
    Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart,
    Alack, too weak the conflict to support!
    'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
    Burst smilingly.

EDMUND

    This speech of yours hath moved me,
    And shall perchance do good: but speak you on;
    You look as you had something more to say.

ALBANY

    If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;
    For I am almost ready to dissolve,
    Hearing of this.

EDGAR

    This would have seem'd a period
    To such as love not sorrow; but another,
    To amplify too much, would make much more,
    And top extremity.
    Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a man,
    Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
    Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
    Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms
    He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out
    As he'ld burst heaven; threw him on my father;
    Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him
    That ever ear received: which in recounting
    His grief grew puissant and the strings of life
    Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded,
    And there I left him tranced.

ALBANY

    But who was this?

EDGAR

    Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise
    Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service
    Improper for a slave.

    Enter a Gentleman, with a bloody knife

Gentleman

    Help, help, O, help!

EDGAR

    What kind of help?

ALBANY

    Speak, man.

EDGAR

    What means that bloody knife?

Gentleman

    'Tis hot, it smokes;
    It came even from the heart of--O, she's dead!

ALBANY

    Who dead? speak, man.

Gentleman

    Your lady, sir, your lady: and her sister
    By her is poisoned; she hath confess'd it.

EDMUND

    I was contracted to them both: all three
    Now marry in an instant.

EDGAR

    Here comes Kent.

ALBANY

    Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead:
    This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble,
    Touches us not with pity.

    Exit Gentleman

    Enter KENT
    O, is this he?
    The time will not allow the compliment
    Which very manners urges.

KENT

    I am come
    To bid my king and master aye good night:
    Is he not here?

ALBANY

    Great thing of us forgot!
    Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia?
    See'st thou this object, Kent?

    The bodies of GONERIL and REGAN are brought in

KENT

    Alack, why thus?

EDMUND

    Yet Edmund was beloved:
    The one the other poison'd for my sake,
    And after slew herself.

ALBANY

    Even so. Cover their faces.

EDMUND

    I pant for life: some good I mean to do,
    Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,
    Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ
    Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia:
    Nay, send in time.

ALBANY

    Run, run, O, run!

EDGAR

    To who, my lord? Who hath the office? send
    Thy token of reprieve.

EDMUND

    Well thought on: take my sword,
    Give it the captain.

ALBANY

    Haste thee, for thy life.

    Exit EDGAR

EDMUND

    He hath commission from thy wife and me
    To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
    To lay the blame upon her own despair,
    That she fordid herself.

ALBANY

    The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.

    EDMUND is borne off

    Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Captain, and others following

KING LEAR

    Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:
    Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so
    That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!
    I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
    She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;
    If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
    Why, then she lives.

KENT

    Is this the promised end

EDGAR

    Or image of that horror?

ALBANY

    Fall, and cease!

KING LEAR

    This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
    It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
    That ever I have felt.

KENT

    [Kneeling] O my good master!

KING LEAR

    Prithee, away.

EDGAR

    'Tis noble Kent, your friend.

KING LEAR

    A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
    I might have saved her; now she's gone for ever!
    Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!
    What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft,
    Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
    I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee.

Captain

    'Tis true, my lords, he did.

KING LEAR

    Did I not, fellow?
    I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion
    I would have made them skip: I am old now,
    And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you?
    Mine eyes are not o' the best: I'll tell you straight.

KENT

    If fortune brag of two she loved and hated,
    One of them we behold.

KING LEAR

    This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?

KENT

    The same,
    Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius?

KING LEAR

    He's a good fellow, I can tell you that;
    He'll strike, and quickly too: he's dead and rotten.

KENT

    No, my good lord; I am the very man,--

KING LEAR

    I'll see that straight.

KENT

    That, from your first of difference and decay,
    Have follow'd your sad steps.

KING LEAR

    You are welcome hither.

KENT

    Nor no man else: all's cheerless, dark, and deadly.
    Your eldest daughters have fordone them selves,
    And desperately are dead.

KING LEAR

    Ay, so I think.

ALBANY

    He knows not what he says: and vain it is
    That we present us to him.

EDGAR

    Very bootless.

    Enter a Captain

Captain

    Edmund is dead, my lord.

ALBANY

    That's but a trifle here.
    You lords and noble friends, know our intent.
    What comfort to this great decay may come
    Shall be applied: for us we will resign,
    During the life of this old majesty,
    To him our absolute power:

    To EDGAR and KENT
    you, to your rights:
    With boot, and such addition as your honours
    Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
    The wages of their virtue, and all foes
    The cup of their deservings. O, see, see!

KING LEAR

    And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
    Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
    And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
    Never, never, never, never, never!
    Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.
    Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
    Look there, look there!

    Dies

EDGAR

    He faints! My lord, my lord!

KENT

    Break, heart; I prithee, break!

EDGAR

    Look up, my lord.

KENT

    Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him much
    That would upon the rack of this tough world
    Stretch him out longer.

EDGAR

    He is gone, indeed.

KENT

    The wonder is, he hath endured so long:
    He but usurp'd his life.

ALBANY

    Bear them from hence. Our present business
    Is general woe.

    To KENT and EDGAR
    Friends of my soul, you twain
    Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain.

KENT

    I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
    My master calls me, I must not say no.

ALBANY

    The weight of this sad time we must obey;
    Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
    The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
    Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

    Exeunt, with a dead march