King Lear

Act I, Scene 1

King Lear’s Palace.

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund. [Kent and Gloucester converse. Edmund stands back.]

Earl of Kent. I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than
Cornwall.

Earl of Gloucester. It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the
kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most, for 5
equalities are so weigh'd that curiosity in neither can make
choice of either's moiety.

Earl of Kent. Is not this your son, my lord?

Earl of Gloucester. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often
blush'd to acknowledge him that now I am braz'd to't. 10

Earl of Kent. I cannot conceive you.

Earl of Gloucester. Sir, this young fellow's mother could; whereupon she grew
round-womb'd, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she
had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

Earl of Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so 15
proper.

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

Edmund. [comes forward] No, my lord.

Earl of Gloucester. My Lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honourable
friend. 25

Edmund. My services to your lordship.

Earl of Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better.

Edmund. Sir, I shall study deserving.

Earl of Gloucester. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.
[Sound a sennet.] 30
The King is coming.

Enter one bearing a coronet; then Lear; then the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; next, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, with Followers.

Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

Earl of Gloucester. I shall, my liege.

Exeunt [Gloucester and Edmund].

Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.
Give me the map there. Know we have divided
In three our kingdom; and 'tis our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age,
Conferring them on younger strengths while we 40
Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, 45
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters
(Since now we will divest us both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state), 50
Which of you shall we say doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.

Goneril. Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; 55
Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable. 60
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

Cordelia. [aside] What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.

Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, 65
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.- What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

Regan. Sir, I am made
Of the selfsame metal that my sister is, 70
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short, that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys
Which the most precious square of sense possesses, 75
And find I am alone felicitate
In your dear Highness' love.

Cordelia. [aside] Then poor Cordelia!
And yet not so; since I am sure my love's
More richer than my tongue. 80

Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,
No less in space, validity, and pleasure
Than that conferr'd on Goneril.- Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least; to whose young love 85
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
Strive to be interest; what can you say to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

Cordelia. Nothing, my lord.

Lear. Nothing? 90

Cordelia. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again.

Cordelia. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty
According to my bond; no more nor less. 95

Lear. How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,
Lest it may mar your fortunes.

Cordelia. Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I
Return those duties back as are right fit, 100
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty. 105
Sure I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all.

Lear. But goes thy heart with this?

Cordelia. Ay, good my lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender? 110

Cordelia. So young, my lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so! thy truth then be thy dower!
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecate and the night;
By all the operation of the orbs 115
From whom we do exist and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian, 120
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,
As thou my sometime daughter.

Earl of Kent. Good my liege- 125

Lear. Peace, Kent!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.- Hence and avoid my sight!-
So be my grave my peace as here I give 130
Her father's heart from her! Call France! Who stirs?
Call Burgundy! Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third;
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly in my power, 135
Preeminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,
With reservation of an hundred knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain 140
The name, and all th' additions to a king. The sway,
Revenue, execution of the rest,
Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,
This coronet part betwixt you.

Earl of Kent. Royal Lear, 145
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers-

Lear. The bow is bent and drawn; make from the shaft.

Earl of Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade 150
The region of my heart! Be Kent unmannerly
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man?
Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound
When majesty falls to folly. Reverse thy doom; 155
And in thy best consideration check
This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness. 160

Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more!

Earl of Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive.

Lear. Out of my sight! 165

Earl of Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.

Lear. Now by Apollo-

Earl of Kent. Now by Apollo, King,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. 170

Lear. O vassal! miscreant! [Lays his hand on his sword.]

Duke of Albany. [with Cornwall] Dear sir, forbear!

Earl of Kent. Do!
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift, 175
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee thou dost evil.

Lear. Hear me, recreant!
On thine allegiance, hear me!
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow- 180
Which we durst never yet- and with strain'd pride
To come between our sentence and our power,-
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,-
Our potency made good, take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee for provision 185
To shield thee from diseases of the world,
And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom. If, on the tenth day following,
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, 190
This shall not be revok'd.

Earl of Kent. Fare thee well, King. Since thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
[To Cordelia] The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
That justly think'st and hast most rightly said! 195
[To Regan and Goneril] And your large speeches may your deeds
approve,
That good effects may spring from words of love.
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
He'll shape his old course in a country new. Exit. 200

Flourish. Enter Gloucester, with France and Burgundy; Attendants.

Earl of Gloucester. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

Lear. My Lord of Burgundy,
We first address toward you, who with this king
Hath rivall'd for our daughter. What in the least 205
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?

Duke of Burgundy. Most royal Majesty,
I crave no more than hath your Highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less. 210

Lear. Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands.
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd, 215
And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,
She's there, and she is yours.

Duke of Burgundy. I know no answer.

Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new adopted to our hate, 220
Dow'r'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?

Duke of Burgundy. Pardon me, royal sir.
Election makes not up on such conditions.

Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the pow'r that made me, 225
I tell you all her wealth. [To France] For you, great King,
I would not from your love make such a stray
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
T' avert your liking a more worthier way
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd 230
Almost t' acknowledge hers.

King of France. This is most strange,
That she that even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time 235
Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle
So many folds of favour. Sure her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection
Fall'n into taint; which to believe of her 240
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me.

Cordelia. I yet beseech your Majesty,
If for I want that glib and oily art
To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend, 245
I'll do't before I speak- that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulness,
No unchaste action or dishonoured step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour;
But even for want of that for which I am richer- 250
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
Hath lost me in your liking.

Lear. Better thou
Hadst not been born than not t' have pleas'd me better. 255

King of France. Is it but this- a tardiness in nature
Which often leaves the history unspoke
That it intends to do? My Lord of Burgundy,
What say you to the lady? Love's not love
When it is mingled with regards that stands 260
Aloof from th' entire point. Will you have her?
She is herself a dowry.

Duke of Burgundy. Royal Lear,
Give but that portion which yourself propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand, 265
Duchess of Burgundy.

Lear. Nothing! I have sworn; I am firm.

Duke of Burgundy. I am sorry then you have so lost a father
That you must lose a husband.

Cordelia. Peace be with Burgundy! 270
Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife.

King of France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon. 275
Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.
Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to inflam'd respect.
Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. 280
Not all the dukes in wat'rish Burgundy
Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind.
Thou losest here, a better where to find.

Lear. Thou hast her, France; let her be thine; for we 285
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
Without our grace, our love, our benison.
Come, noble Burgundy.

Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, [Cornwall, Albany, Gloucester, and Attendants].

King of France. Bid farewell to your sisters.

Cordelia. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are;
And, like a sister, am most loath to call
Your faults as they are nam'd. Use well our father. 295
To your professed bosoms I commit him;
But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place!
So farewell to you both.

Goneril. Prescribe not us our duties. 300

Regan. Let your study
Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you
At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

Cordelia. Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides. 305
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper!

King of France. Come, my fair Cordelia.

Exeunt France and Cordelia.

Goneril. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly 310
appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night.

Regan. That's most certain, and with you; next month with us.

Goneril. You see how full of changes his age is. The observation we
have made of it hath not been little. He always lov'd our
sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her 315
off appears too grossly.

Regan. 'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly
known himself.

Goneril. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then
must we look to receive from his age, not alone the 320
imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but therewithal
the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with
them.

Regan. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this
of Kent's banishment. 325

Goneril. There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and
him. Pray you let's hit together. If our father carry authority
with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his
will but offend us.

Regan. We shall further think on't. 330

Goneril. We must do something, and i' th' heat.

Exeunt.

Act I, Scene 2

The Earl of Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter [Edmund the] Bastard solus, [with a letter].

Edmund. Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I 335
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact, 340
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality 345
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund 350
As to th' legitimate. Fine word- 'legitimate'!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top th' legitimate. I grow; I prosper.
Now, gods, stand up for bastards! 355

Enter Gloucester.

Earl of Gloucester. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choler parted?
And the King gone to-night? subscrib'd his pow'r?
Confin'd to exhibition? All this done
Upon the gad? Edmund, how now? What news? 360

Edmund. So please your lordship, none.

[Puts up the letter.]

Earl of Gloucester. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

Edmund. I know no news, my lord.

Earl of Gloucester. What paper were you reading? 365

Edmund. Nothing, my lord.

Earl of Gloucester. No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your
pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide
itself. Let's see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need
spectacles. 370

Edmund. I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother
that I have not all o'er-read; and for so much as I have
perus'd, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking.

Earl of Gloucester. Give me the letter, sir.

Edmund. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as 375
in part I understand them, are to blame.

Earl of Gloucester. Let's see, let's see!

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

Earl of Gloucester. [reads] 'This policy and reverence of age makes the world 380
bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us
till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle
and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways,
not as it hath power, but as it is suffer'd. Come to me, that
of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I 385
wak'd him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live
the beloved of your brother,
'EDGAR.'
Hum! Conspiracy? 'Sleep till I wak'd him, you should enjoy half
his revenue.' My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart 390
and brain to breed it in? When came this to you? Who brought it?

Edmund. It was not brought me, my lord: there's the cunning of it. I
found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.

Earl of Gloucester. You know the character to be your brother's?

Edmund. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; 395
but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.

Earl of Gloucester. It is his.

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

Earl of Gloucester. Hath he never before sounded you in this business? 400

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

Earl of Gloucester. O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter! Abhorred
villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! worse than 405
brutish! Go, sirrah, seek him. I'll apprehend him. Abominable
villain! Where is he?

Edmund. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend
your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him
better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; 410
where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his
purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour and shake
in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life
for him that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your
honour, and to no other pretence of danger. 415

Earl of Gloucester. Think you so?

Edmund. If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall
hear us confer of this and by an auricular assurance have your
satisfaction, and that without any further delay than this very
evening. 420

Earl of Gloucester. He cannot be such a monster.

Edmund. Nor is not, sure.

Earl of Gloucester. To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him.
Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray
you; frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate 425
myself to be in a due resolution.

Edmund. I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the business as I
shall find means, and acquaint you withal.

Earl of Gloucester. These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to
us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet 430
nature finds itself scourg'd by the sequent effects. Love cools,
friendship falls off, brothers divide. In cities, mutinies; in
countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond crack'd
'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the
prediction; there's son against father: the King falls from bias 435
of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best
of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all
ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out
this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it
carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banish'd! his 440
offence, honesty! 'Tis strange. Exit.

Edmund. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are
sick in fortune, often the surfeit of our own behaviour, we make
guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if
we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; 445
knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical pre-dominance;
drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforc'd obedience of
planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine
thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay
his goatish disposition to the charge of a star! My father 450
compounded with my mother under the Dragon's Tail, and my
nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows I am rough and
lecherous. Fut! I should have been that I am, had the
maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
Edgar- 455
[Enter Edgar.]
and pat! he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy. My
cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam.
O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! Fa, sol, la, mi.

Edgar. How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation are you 460
in?

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

Edgar. Do you busy yourself with that?

Edmund. I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily: as 465
of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death,
dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state,
menaces and maledictions against king and nobles; needless
diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts,
nuptial breaches, and I know not what. 470

Edgar. How long have you been a sectary astronomical?

Edmund. Come, come! When saw you my father last?

Edgar. The night gone by.

Edmund. Spake you with him?

Edgar. Ay, two hours together. 475

Edmund. Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by
word or countenance

Edgar. None at all.

Edmund. Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him; and at my
entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath 480
qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so
rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would
scarcely allay.

Edgar. Some villain hath done me wrong.

Edmund. That's my fear. I pray you have a continent forbearance till 485
the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me
to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my
lord speak. Pray ye, go! There's my key. If you do stir abroad,
go arm'd.

Edgar. Arm'd, brother? 490

Edmund. Brother, I advise you to the best. Go arm'd. I am no honest man
if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I
have seen and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image and
horror of it. Pray you, away!

Edgar. Shall I hear from you anon? 495

Edmund. I do serve you in this business.
[Exit Edgar.]
A credulous father! and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms
That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty 500
My practices ride easy! I see the business.
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit;
All with me's meet that I can fashion fit. Exit.

Act I, Scene 3

The Duke of Albany’s Palace.

Enter Goneril and [her] Steward [Oswald].

Goneril. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? 505

Oswald. Ay, madam.

Goneril. By day and night, he wrongs me! Every hour
He flashes into one gross crime or other
That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it.
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us 510
On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,
I will not speak with him. Say I am sick.
If you come slack of former services,
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.

[Horns within.]

Oswald. He's coming, madam; I hear him.

Goneril. Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows. I'd have it come to question.
If he distaste it, let him to our sister,
Whose mind and mine I know in that are one, 520
Not to be overrul'd. Idle old man,
That still would manage those authorities
That he hath given away! Now, by my life,
Old fools are babes again, and must be us'd
With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd. 525
Remember what I have said.

Oswald. Very well, madam.

Goneril. And let his knights have colder looks among you.
What grows of it, no matter. Advise your fellows so.
I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, 530
That I may speak. I'll write straight to my sister
To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner.

Exeunt.

Act I, Scene 4

The Duke of Albany’s Palace.

Enter Kent, [disguised].

Earl of Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, 535
That can my speech defuse, my good intent
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I raz'd my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st, 540
Shall find thee full of labours.
Horns within. Enter Lear, [Knights,] and Attendants.

Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. [Exit
an Attendant.] How now? What art thou?

Earl of Kent. A man, sir. 545

Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?

Earl of Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him truly
that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to
converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear
judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish. 550

Lear. What art thou?

Earl of Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.

Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king, thou
art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

Earl of Kent. Service. 555

Lear. Who wouldst thou serve?

Earl of Kent. You.

Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow?

Earl of Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I would
fain call master. 560

Lear. What's that?

Earl of Kent. Authority.

Lear. What services canst thou do?

Earl of Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in
telling it and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which 565
ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best of me
is diligence.

Lear. How old art thou?

Earl of Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to
dote on her for anything. I have years on my back forty-eight. 570

Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no worse after
dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho, dinner!
Where's my knave? my fool? Go you and call my fool hither.
[Exit an attendant.]
[Enter [Oswald the] Steward.] 575
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?

Oswald. So please you- Exit.

Lear. What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.
[Exit a Knight.] Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's
asleep. 580
[Enter Knight]
How now? Where's that mongrel?

Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I call'd him?

Knight. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not. 585

Lear. He would not?

Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my judgment
your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection
as you were wont. There's a great abatement of kindness appears
as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himself also 590
and your daughter.

Lear. Ha! say'st thou so?

Knight. I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for
my duty cannot be silent when I think your Highness wrong'd.

Lear. Thou but rememb'rest me of mine own conception. I have 595
perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather
blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence
and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into't. But
where's my fool? I have not seen him this two days.

Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool 600
hath much pined away.

Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you and tell my
daughter I would speak with her. [Exit Knight.] Go you, call
hither my fool.
[Exit an Attendant.] 605
[Enter [Oswald the] Steward.]
O, you, sir, you! Come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?

Oswald. My lady's father.

Lear. 'My lady's father'? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog! you
slave! you cur! 610

Oswald. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.

Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

[Strikes him.]

Oswald. I'll not be strucken, my lord.

Earl of Kent. Nor tripp'd neither, you base football player? 615

[Trips up his heels.

Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee.

Earl of Kent. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences. Away,
away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry; but
away! Go to! Have you wisdom? So. 620

[Pushes him out.]

Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest of thy
service. [Gives money.]

Enter Fool.

Fool. Let me hire him too. Here's my coxcomb. 625

[Offers Kent his cap.]

Lear. How now, my pretty knave? How dost thou?

Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

Earl of Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. Why? For taking one's part that's out of favour. Nay, an thou 630
canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly.
There, take my coxcomb! Why, this fellow hath banish'd two on's
daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will. If
thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.- How now,
nuncle? Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! 635

Lear. Why, my boy?

Fool. If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs myself.
There's mine! beg another of thy daughters.

Lear. Take heed, sirrah- the whip.

Fool. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out, when 640
Lady the brach may stand by th' fire and stink.

Lear. A pestilent gall to me!

Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.

Lear. Do.

Fool. Mark it, nuncle. 645
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest, 650
Set less than thou throwest;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score. 655

Earl of Kent. This is nothing, fool.

Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer- you gave me
nothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?

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

Fool. [to Kent] Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land 660
comes to. He will not believe a fool.

Lear. A bitter fool!

Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter
fool and a sweet fool?

Lear. No, lad; teach me. 665

Fool. That lord that counsell'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me-
Do thou for him stand.
The sweet and bitter fool 670
Will presently appear;
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.

Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy?

Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast 675
born with.

Earl of Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord.

Fool. No, faith; lords and great men will not let me. If I had a
monopoly out, they would have part on't. And ladies too, they
will not let me have all the fool to myself; they'll be 680
snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two
crowns.

Lear. What two crowns shall they be?

Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up the
meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i' 685
th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine ass on
thy back o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown
when thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in
this, let him be whipp'd that first finds it so.
[Sings] Fools had ne'er less grace in a year, 690
For wise men are grown foppish;
They know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.

Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?

Fool. I have us'd it, nuncle, ever since thou mad'st thy daughters 695
thy mother; for when thou gav'st them the rod, and put'st down
thine own breeches,
[Sings] Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep 700
And go the fools among.
Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to
lie. I would fain learn to lie.

Lear. An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd.

Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They'll have me 705
whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying;
and sometimes I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather be
any kind o' thing than a fool! And yet I would not be thee,
nuncle. Thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides and left nothing
i' th' middle. Here comes one o' the parings. 710

Enter Goneril.

Lear. How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinks you
are too much o' late i' th' frown.

Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for
her frowning. Now thou art an O without a figure. I am better 715
than thou art now: I am a fool, thou art nothing.
[To Goneril] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So your face
bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum!
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some.- 720
[Points at Lear] That's a sheal'd peascod.

Goneril. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool,
But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, 725
I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful,
By what yourself, too, late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on
By your allowance; which if you should, the fault 730
Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Must call discreet proceeding. 735

Fool. For you know, nuncle,
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long
That it had it head bit off by it young.
So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.

Lear. Are you our daughter? 740

Goneril. Come, sir,
I would you would make use of that good wisdom
Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away
These dispositions that of late transform you
From what you rightly are. 745

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

Lear. Doth any here know me? This is not Lear.
Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
Either his notion weakens, his discernings 750
Are lethargied- Ha! waking? 'Tis not so!
Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Fool. Lear's shadow.

Lear. I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty,
Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded 755
I had daughters.

Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.

Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman?

Goneril. This admiration, sir, is much o' th' savour
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 760
To understand my purposes aright.
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd, and bold
That this our court, infected with their manners, 765
Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy. Be then desir'd
By her that else will take the thing she begs 770
A little to disquantity your train,
And the remainder that shall still depend
To be such men as may besort your age,
Which know themselves, and you.

Lear. Darkness and devils! 775
Saddle my horses! Call my train together!
Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter.

Goneril. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters. 780

Enter Albany.

Lear. Woe that too late repents!- O, sir, are you come?
Is it your will? Speak, sir!- Prepare my horses.
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child 785
Than the sea-monster!

Duke of Albany. Pray, sir, be patient.

Lear. [to Goneril] Detested kite, thou liest!
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know 790
And in the most exact regard support
The worships of their name.- O most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature
From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love 795
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in [Strikes his head.]
And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.

Duke of Albany. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath mov'd you. 800

Lear. It may be so, my lord.
Hear, Nature, hear! dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful.
Into her womb convey sterility; 805
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen, that it may live
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her. 810
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks,
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt, that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 815
To have a thankless child! Away, away! Exit.

Duke of Albany. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?

Goneril. Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
But let his disposition have that scope
That dotage gives it. 820

Enter Lear.

Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap?
Within a fortnight?

Duke of Albany. What's the matter, sir?

Lear. I'll tell thee. [To Goneril] Life and death! I am asham'd 825
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!
Th' untented woundings of a father's curse
Pierce every sense about thee!- Old fond eyes, 830
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay. Yea, is it come to this?
Let it be so. Yet have I left a daughter,
Who I am sure is kind and comfortable. 835
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.

Exeunt [Lear, Kent, and Attendants].

Goneril. Do you mark that, my lord?

Duke of Albany. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
To the great love I bear you—

Goneril. Pray you, content.- What, Oswald, ho!
[To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master! 845

Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the fool with thee.
A fox when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter. 850
So the fool follows after. Exit.

Goneril. This man hath had good counsel! A hundred knights?
'Tis politic and safe to let him keep
At point a hundred knights; yes, that on every dream,
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 855
He may enguard his dotage with their pow'rs
And hold our lives in mercy.- Oswald, I say!

Duke of Albany. Well, you may fear too far.

Goneril. Safer than trust too far.
Let me still take away the harms I fear, 860
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart.
What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister.
If she sustain him and his hundred knights,
When I have show'd th' unfitness- [Enter [Oswald the] Steward.]
How now, Oswald? 865
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

Oswald. Yes, madam.

Goneril. Take you some company, and away to horse!
Inform her full of my particular fear,
And thereto add such reasons of your own 870
As may compact it more. Get you gone,
And hasten your return. [Exit Oswald.] No, no, my lord!
This milky gentleness and course of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more at task for want of wisdom 875
Than prais'd for harmful mildness.

Duke of Albany. How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

Goneril. Nay then-

Duke of Albany. Well, well; th' event. Exeunt. 880

Act I, Scene 5

Court before the Duke of Albany’s Palace. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.

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

Earl of Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter. Exit. 885

Fool. If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in danger of
kibes?

Lear. Ay, boy.

Fool. Then I prithee be merry. Thy wit shall ne'er go slip-shod.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha! 890

Fool. Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though
she's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell
what I can tell.

Lear. What canst tell, boy?

Fool. She'll taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou 895
canst tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle on's face?

Lear. No.

Fool. Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose, that what a
man cannot smell out, 'a may spy into.

Lear. I did her wrong. 900

Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?

Lear. No.

Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.

Lear. Why?

Fool. Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to his daughters, 905
and leave his horns without a case.

Lear. I will forget my nature. So kind a father!- Be my horses
ready?

Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the seven stars
are no moe than seven is a pretty reason. 910

Lear. Because they are not eight?

Fool. Yes indeed. Thou wouldst make a good fool.

Lear. To tak't again perforce! Monster ingratitude!

Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten for being
old before thy time. 915

Lear. How's that?

Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.

Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad! [Enter a Gentleman.]
How now? Are the horses ready? 920

Gentleman. Ready, my lord.

Lear. Come, boy.

Fool. She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter

Exeunt.

Act II, Scene 1

A court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloucester.

Enter [Edmund the] Bastard and Curan, meeting.

Edmund. Save thee, Curan.

Curan. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him
notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his Duchess will be
here with him this night. 930

Edmund. How comes that?

Curan. Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad- I mean the
whisper'd ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments?

Edmund. Not I. Pray you, what are they?

Curan. Have you heard of no likely wars toward 'twixt the two Dukes 935
of Cornwall and Albany?

Edmund. Not a word.

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

Edmund. The Duke be here to-night? The better! best!
This weaves itself perforce into my business. 940
My father hath set guard to take my brother;
And I have one thing, of a queasy question,
Which I must act. Briefness and fortune, work!
Brother, a word! Descend! Brother, I say!
[Enter Edgar.] 945
My father watches. O sir, fly this place!
Intelligence is given where you are hid.
You have now the good advantage of the night.
Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
He's coming hither; now, i' th' night, i' th' haste, 950
And Regan with him. Have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
Advise yourself.

Edgar. I am sure on't, not a word.

Edmund. I hear my father coming. Pardon me! 955
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you.
Draw, seem to defend yourself; now quit you well.-
Yield! Come before my father. Light, ho, here!
Fly, brother.- Torches, torches!- So farewell.
[Exit Edgar.] 960
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeavour. [Stabs his arm.] I have seen
drunkards
Do more than this in sport.- Father, father!-
Stop, stop! No help? 965

Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.

Earl of Gloucester. Now, Edmund, where's the villain?

Edmund. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand 's auspicious mistress. 970

Earl of Gloucester. But where is he?

Edmund. Look, sir, I bleed.

Earl of Gloucester. Where is the villain, Edmund?

Edmund. Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could-

Earl of Gloucester. Pursue him, ho! Go after. [Exeunt some Servants]. 975
By no means what?

Edmund. Persuade me to the murther of your lordship;
But that I told him the revenging gods
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond 980
The child was bound to th' father- sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion
With his prepared sword he charges home
My unprovided body, lanch'd mine arm; 985
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to th' encounter,
Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.

Earl of Gloucester. Let him fly far. 990
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
And found- dispatch. The noble Duke my master,
My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night.
By his authority I will proclaim it
That he which find, him shall deserve our thanks, 995
Bringing the murderous caitiff to the stake;
He that conceals him, death.

Edmund. When I dissuaded him from his intent
And found him pight to do it, with curst speech
I threaten'd to discover him. He replied, 1000
'Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think,
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal
Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee
Make thy words faith'd? No. What I should deny
(As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce 1005
My very character), I'ld turn it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice;
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spurs 1010
To make thee seek it.'

Earl of Gloucester. Strong and fast'ned villain!
Would he deny his letter? I never got him.
[Tucket within.]
Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes. 1015
All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not scape;
The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him, and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means 1020
To make thee capable.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.

Duke of Cornwall. How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither
(Which I can call but now) I have heard strange news.

Regan. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short 1025
Which can pursue th' offender. How dost, my lord?

Earl of Gloucester. O madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd!

Regan. What, did my father's godson seek your life?
He whom my father nam'd? Your Edgar?

Earl of Gloucester. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid! 1030

Regan. Was he not companion with the riotous knights
That tend upon my father?

Earl of Gloucester. I know not, madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad!

Edmund. Yes, madam, he was of that consort.

Regan. No marvel then though he were ill affected. 1035
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have th' expense and waste of his revenues.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well inform'd of them, and with such cautions
That, if they come to sojourn at my house, 1040
I'll not be there.

Duke of Cornwall. Nor I, assure thee, Regan.
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
A childlike office.

Edmund. 'Twas my duty, sir. 1045

Earl of Gloucester. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

Duke of Cornwall. Is he pursued?

Earl of Gloucester. Ay, my good lord.

Duke of Cornwall. If he be taken, he shall never more 1050
Be fear'd of doing harm. Make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours.
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; 1055
You we first seize on.

Edmund. I shall serve you, sir,
Truly, however else.

Earl of Gloucester. For him I thank your Grace.

Duke of Cornwall. You know not why we came to visit you- 1060

Regan. Thus out of season, threading dark-ey'd night.
Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise,
Wherein we must have use of your advice.
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of differences, which I best thought it fit 1065
To answer from our home. The several messengers
From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business,
Which craves the instant use. 1070

Earl of Gloucester. I serve you, madam.
Your Graces are right welcome.

Exeunt. Flourish.

Act II, Scene 2

Before Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Kent and [Oswald the] Steward, severally.

Oswald. Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house? 1075

Earl of Kent. Ay.

Oswald. Where may we set our horses?

Earl of Kent. I' th' mire.

Oswald. Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me.

Earl of Kent. I love thee not. 1080

Oswald. Why then, I care not for thee.

Earl of Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for
me.

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

Earl of Kent. Fellow, I know thee. 1085

Oswald. What dost thou know me for?

Earl of Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy,
worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking, whoreson,
glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; 1090
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of
good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave,
beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch;
one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny the
least syllable of thy addition. 1095

Oswald. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one
that's neither known of thee nor knows thee!

Earl of Kent. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me!
Is it two days ago since I beat thee and tripp'd up thy heels
before the King? [Draws his sword.] Draw, you rogue! for, though 1100
it be night, yet the moon shines. I'll make a sop o' th'
moonshine o' you. Draw, you whoreson cullionly barbermonger!
draw!

Oswald. Away! I have nothing to do with thee.

Earl of Kent. Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King, and 1105
take Vanity the puppet's part against the royalty of her father.
Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks! Draw, you
rascal! Come your ways!

Oswald. Help, ho! murther! help!

Earl of Kent. Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat slave! 1110
Strike! [Beats him.]

Oswald. Help, ho! murther! murther!

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

Edmund. How now? What's the matter? Parts [them].

Earl of Kent. With you, goodman boy, an you please! Come, I'll flesh ye! 1115
Come on, young master!

Earl of Gloucester. Weapons? arms? What's the matter here?

Duke of Cornwall. Keep peace, upon your lives!
He dies that strikes again. What is the matter?

Regan. The messengers from our sister and the King 1120

Duke of Cornwall. What is your difference? Speak.

Oswald. I am scarce in breath, my lord.

Earl of Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valour. You cowardly
rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.

Duke of Cornwall. Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man? 1125

Earl of Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have
made him so ill, though he had been but two hours at the trade.

Duke of Cornwall. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

Oswald. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd
At suit of his grey beard- 1130

Earl of Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if
you'll give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into
mortar and daub the walls of a jakes with him. 'Spare my grey
beard,' you wagtail?

Duke of Cornwall. Peace, sirrah! 1135
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

Earl of Kent. Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege.

Duke of Cornwall. Why art thou angry?

Earl of Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, 1140
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain
Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion
That in the natures of their lords rebel,
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 1145
With every gale and vary of their masters,
Knowing naught (like dogs) but following.
A plague upon your epileptic visage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain, 1150
I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot.

Duke of Cornwall. What, art thou mad, old fellow?

Earl of Gloucester. How fell you out? Say that.

Earl of Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy
Than I and such a knave. 1155

Duke of Cornwall. Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault?

Earl of Kent. His countenance likes me not.

Duke of Cornwall. No more perchance does mine, or his, or hers.

Earl of Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain.
I have seen better faces in my time 1160
Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.

Duke of Cornwall. This is some fellow
Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb 1165
Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he!
An honest mind and plain- he must speak truth!
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know which in this plainness
Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends 1170
Than twenty silly-ducking observants
That stretch their duties nicely.

Earl of Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
Under th' allowance of your great aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire 1175
On flickering Phoebus' front-

Duke of Cornwall. What mean'st by this?

Earl of Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I
know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that beguil'd you in a plain
accent was a plain knave, which, for my part, I will not be, 1180
though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to't.

Duke of Cornwall. What was th' offence you gave him?

Oswald. I never gave him any.
It pleas'd the King his master very late
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; 1185
When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd
And put upon him such a deal of man
That worthied him, got praises of the King
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd; 1190
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.

Earl of Kent. None of these rogues and cowards
But Ajax is their fool.

Duke of Cornwall. Fetch forth the stocks! 1195
You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart,
We'll teach you-

Earl of Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn.
Call not your stocks for me. I serve the King;
On whose employment I was sent to you. 1200
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.

Duke of Cornwall. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour,
There shall he sit till noon. 1205

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

Earl of Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so.

Regan. Sir, being his knave, I will.

Duke of Cornwall. This is a fellow of the selfsame colour 1210
Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks!

Stocks brought out.

Earl of Gloucester. Let me beseech your Grace not to do so.
His fault is much, and the good King his master
Will check him for't. Your purpos'd low correction 1215
Is such as basest and contemn'dest wretches
For pilf'rings and most common trespasses
Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill
That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd. 1220

Duke of Cornwall. I'll answer that.

Regan. My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs. Put in his legs.-
[Kent is put in the stocks.] 1225
Come, my good lord, away.

Exeunt [all but Gloucester and Kent].

Earl of Gloucester. I am sorry for thee, friend. 'Tis the Duke's pleasure,
Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd. I'll entreat for thee. 1230

Earl of Kent. Pray do not, sir. I have watch'd and travell'd hard.
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels.
Give you good morrow!

Earl of Gloucester. The Duke 's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. Exit. 1235

Earl of Kent. Good King, that must approve the common saw,
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may 1240
Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
But misery. I know 'tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course- and [reads] 'shall find time
From this enormous state, seeking to give 1245
Losses their remedies'- All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel.

Sleeps.

Act II, Scene 3

The open country.

Enter Edgar.

Edgar. I heard myself proclaim'd,
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free, no place
That guard and most unusual vigilance 1255
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape,
I will preserve myself; and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth, 1260
Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots,
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, 1265
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, 1270
Enforce their charity. 'Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!'
That's something yet! Edgar I nothing am. Exit.

Act II, Scene 4

Before Gloucester’s Castle; Kent in the stocks.

Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.

Lear. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger. 1275

Gentleman. As I learn'd,
The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.

Earl of Kent. Hail to thee, noble master!

Lear. Ha! 1280
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?

Earl of Kent. No, my lord.

Fool. Ha, ha! look! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the
head, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men
by th' legs. When a man's over-lusty at legs, then he wears 1285
wooden nether-stocks.

Lear. What's he that hath so much thy place mistook
To set thee here?

Earl of Kent. It is both he and she-
Your son and daughter. 1290

Lear. No.

Earl of Kent. Yes.

Lear. No, I say.

Earl of Kent. I say yea.

Lear. No, no, they would not! 1295

Earl of Kent. Yes, they have.

Lear. By Jupiter, I swear no!

Earl of Kent. By Juno, I swear ay!

Lear. They durst not do't;
They would not, could not do't. 'Tis worse than murther 1300
To do upon respect such violent outrage.
Resolve me with all modest haste which way
Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage,
Coming from us.

Earl of Kent. My lord, when at their home 1305
I did commend your Highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress salutations; 1310
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read; on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse,
Commanded me to follow and attend
The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks, 1315
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine-
Being the very fellow which of late
Display'd so saucily against your Highness-
Having more man than wit about me, drew. 1320
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries.
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags 1325
Do make their children blind;
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor. 1330
But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy
daughters as thou canst tell in a year.

Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
Hysterica passio! Down, thou climbing sorrow!
Thy element's below! Where is this daughter? 1335

Earl of Kent. With the Earl, sir, here within.

Lear. Follow me not;
Stay here. Exit.

Gentleman. Made you no more offence but what you speak of?

Earl of Kent. None. 1340
How chance the King comes with so small a number?

Fool. An thou hadst been set i' th' stocks for that question,
thou'dst well deserv'd it.

Earl of Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no 1345
labouring i' th' winter. All that follow their noses are led by
their eyes but blind men, and there's not a nose among twenty
but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great
wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following
it; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after. 1350
When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again. I
would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.
That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain 1355
And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly.
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy. 1360

Earl of Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool?

Fool. Not i' th' stocks, fool.
Enter Lear and Gloucester

Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches- 1365
The images of revolt and flying off!
Fetch me a better answer.

Earl of Gloucester. My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
How unremovable and fix'd he is 1370
In his own course.

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.

Earl of Gloucester. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. 1375

Lear. Inform'd them? Dost thou understand me, man?

Earl of Gloucester. Ay, my good lord.

Lear. The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service.
Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood! 1380
Fiery? the fiery Duke? Tell the hot Duke that-
No, but not yet! May be he is not well.
Infirmity doth still neglect all office
Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind 1385
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
For the sound man.- Death on my state! Wherefore
Should he sit here? This act persuades me 1390
That this remotion of the Duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.
Go tell the Duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them-
Now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum 1395
Till it cry sleep to death.

Earl of Gloucester. I would have all well betwixt you. Exit.

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

Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she
put 'em i' th' paste alive. She knapp'd 'em o' th' coxcombs with 1400
a stick and cried 'Down, wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that,
in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.

Lear. Good morrow to you both.

Duke of Cornwall. Hail to your Grace! 1405

Kent here set at liberty.

Regan. I am glad to see your Highness.

Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, 1410
Sepulchring an adultress. [To Kent] O, are you free?
Some other time for that.- Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught. O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here!
[Lays his hand on his heart.] 1415
I can scarce speak to thee. Thou'lt not believe
With how deprav'd a quality- O Regan!

Regan. I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope
You less know how to value her desert
Than she to scant her duty. 1420

Lear. Say, how is that?

Regan. I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, 1425
As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My curses on her!

Regan. O, sir, you are old!
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine. You should be rul'd, and led 1430
By some discretion that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wrong'd her, sir.

Lear. Ask her forgiveness? 1435
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old. [Kneels.]
Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.'

Regan. Good sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks. 1440
Return you to my sister.

Lear. [rises] Never, Regan!
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. 1445
All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!

Duke of Cornwall. Fie, sir, fie!

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames 1450
Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful sun,
To fall and blast her pride!

Regan. O the blest gods! so will you wish on me
When the rash mood is on. 1455

Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse.
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, 1460
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in. Thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude. 1465
Thy half o' th' kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.

Regan. Good sir, to th' purpose.

Tucket within.

Lear. Who put my man i' th' stocks? 1470

Duke of Cornwall. What trumpet's that?

Regan. I know't- my sister's. This approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.
[Enter [Oswald the] Steward.]
Is your lady come? 1475

Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrowed pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
Out, varlet, from my sight!

Duke of Cornwall. What means your Grace?

Enter Goneril.

Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know on't.- Who comes here? O heavens!
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience- if yourselves are old,
Make it your cause! Send down, and take my part! 1485
[To Goneril] Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?-
O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

Goneril. Why not by th' hand, sir? How have I offended?
All's not offence that indiscretion finds
And dotage terms so. 1490

Lear. O sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold? How came my man i' th' stocks?

Duke of Cornwall. I set him there, sir; but his own disorders
Deserv'd much less advancement.

Lear. You? Did you? 1495

Regan. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me.
I am now from home, and out of that provision 1500
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage against the enmity o' th' air,
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl- 1505
Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg
To keep base life afoot. Return with her? 1510
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom. [Points at Oswald.]

Goneril. At your choice, sir.

Lear. I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad.
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell. 1515
We'll no more meet, no more see one another.
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil,
A plague sore, an embossed carbuncle 1520
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee.
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it.
I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoot
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure; 1525
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
I and my hundred knights.

Regan. Not altogether so.
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; 1530
For those that mingle reason with your passion
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But she knows what she does.

Lear. Is this well spoken?

Regan. I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers? 1535
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How in one house
Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible. 1540

Goneril. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine?

Regan. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd to slack ye,
We could control them. If you will come to me
(For now I spy a danger), I entreat you 1545
To bring but five-and-twenty. To no more
Will I give place or notice.

Lear. I gave you all-

Regan. And in good time you gave it!

Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; 1550
But kept a reservation to be followed
With such a number. What, must I come to you
With five-and-twenty, Regan? Said you so?

Regan. And speak't again my lord. No more with me.

Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd 1555
When others are more wicked; not being the worst
Stands in some rank of praise. [To Goneril] I'll go with thee.
Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,
And thou art twice her love.

Goneril. Hear, me, my lord. 1560
What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?

Regan. What need one?

Lear. O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars 1565
Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady:
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st 1570
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need-
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both.
If it be you that

shakespeare.to-go.biz

The Tragedy of King Lear