KING LEAR


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DRAMATIS PERSONAE
LEAR king of Britain (KING LEAR:)
KING OF FRANCE:
DUKE OF BURGUNDY (BURGUNDY:)
DUKE OF CORNWALL (CORNWALL:)
DUKE OF ALBANY (ALBANY:)
EARL OF KENT (KENT:)
EARL OF GLOUCESTER (GLOUCESTER:)
EDGAR son to Gloucester.
EDMUND bastard son to Gloucester.
CURAN a courtier.
Old Man tenant to Gloucester.
Doctor:
Fool:
OSWALD steward to Goneril.
A Captain employed by Edmund. (Captain:)
Gentleman attendant on Cordelia. (Gentleman:)
A Herald.
Servants to Cornwall.
(First Servant:)
(Second Servant:)
(Third Servant:)
GONERIL

REGAN

CORDELIA
|
|
| daughters to Lear.
|
|
Knights of Lear's train, Captains, Messengers,
Soldiers, and Attendants
(Knight:)
(Captain:)
(Messenger:)

SceneBritain.
Act I

Scene I King Lear's palace.

[Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND]
KENT I thought the king had more affected the Duke of
Albany than Cornwall.
GLOUCESTER It did always seem so to us: but now, in the
division of the kingdom, it appears not which of
the dukes he values most; for equalities are so
weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice
of either's moiety.
KENT Is not this your son, my lord?
GLOUCESTER His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have
so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
brazed to it.
KENT I cannot conceive you.
GLOUCESTER Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon
she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son
for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.
Do you smell a fault?
KENT I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it
being so proper.
GLOUCESTER But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year
elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:
though this knave came something saucily into the
world before he was sent for, yet was his mother
fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this
noble gentleman, Edmund?
EDMUND No, my lord.
GLOUCESTER My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my
honourable friend.
EDMUND My services to your lordship.
KENT I must love you, and sue to know you better.
EDMUND Sir, I shall study deserving.
GLOUCESTER He hath been out nine years, and away he shall
again. The king is coming.
[Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY,
GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants]
KING LEAR Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.
GLOUCESTER I shall, my liege.
[Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND]
KING LEAR Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.
Give me the map there. Know that we have divided
In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age;
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy,
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters,--
Since now we will divest us both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state,--
Which of you shall we say doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.
GONERIL Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
As much as child e'er loved, or father found;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
CORDELIA [Aside] What shall Cordelia do?
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,
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 self-same metal that my sister is,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short: that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys,
Which the most precious square of sense possesses;
And find I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness' love.
CORDELIA [Aside] Then poor Cordelia!
And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
More richer than my tongue.
KING LEAR To thee and thine hereditary ever
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least; to whose young love
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
CORDELIA Nothing, my lord.
KING LEAR Nothing!
CORDELIA Nothing.
KING LEAR Nothing will 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; nor more nor less.
KING 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, loved me: I
Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty:
Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all.
KING LEAR But goes thy heart with this?
CORDELIA Ay, good my lord.
KING LEAR So young, and so untender?
CORDELIA So young, my lord, and true.
KING LEAR Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower:
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;
By all the operation of the orbs
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved,
As thou my sometime daughter.
KENT Good my liege,--
KING LEAR Peace, Kent!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
I loved her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight!
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father's heart from her! Call France; who stirs?
Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,
With reservation of an hundred knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain
The name, and all the additions to a king;
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part betwixt you.
[Giving the crown]
KENT Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Loved as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers,--
KING LEAR The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.
KENT Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man?
Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak,
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,
When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom;
And, in thy best consideration, cheque
This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness.
KING LEAR Kent, on thy life, no more.
KENT My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive.
KING LEAR Out of my sight!
KENT See better, Lear; and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.
KING LEAR Now, by Apollo,--
KENT Now, by Apollo, king,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
KING LEAR O, vassal! miscreant!
[Laying his hand on his sword]
ALBANY

CORNWALL
|
| Dear sir, forbear.
|
KENT Do:
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom;
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee thou dost evil.
KING LEAR Hear me, recreant!
On thine allegiance, hear me!
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride
To come between our sentence and our power,
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,
Our potency made good, take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from diseases of the world;
And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter,
This shall not be revoked.
KENT Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
[To CORDELIA]
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said!
[To REGAN and GONERIL]
And your large speeches may your 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]
[Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE,
BURGUNDY, and Attendants]
GLOUCESTER Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
KING LEAR My lord of Burgundy.
We first address towards you, who with this king
Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least,
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?
BURGUNDY Most royal majesty,
I crave no more than what your highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less.
KING LEAR Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands:
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
She's there, and she is yours.
BURGUNDY I know no answer.
KING LEAR Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?
BURGUNDY Pardon me, royal sir;
Election makes not up on such conditions.
KING LEAR Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
I tell you all her wealth.
[To KING OF FRANCE]
For you, great king,
I would not from your love make such a stray,
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
To avert your liking a more worthier way
Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed
Almost to acknowledge hers.
KING OF FRANCE This is most strange,
That she, that even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree,
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection
Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Could never plant in me.
CORDELIA I yet beseech your majesty,--
If for I want that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
I'll do't before I speak,--that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;
But even for want of that for which I am richer,
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
Hath lost me in your liking.
KING LEAR Better thou
Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better.
KING OF FRANCE Is it but this,--a tardiness in nature
Which often leaves the history unspoke
That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy,
What say you to the lady? Love's not love
When it is mingled with regards that stand
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
She is herself a dowry.
BURGUNDY Royal Lear,
Give but that portion which yourself proposed,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.
KING LEAR Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.
BURGUNDY I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
That you must lose a husband.
CORDELIA Peace be with Burgundy!
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 loved, despised!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.
Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to inflamed respect.
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here, a better where to find.
KING LEAR Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
Without our grace, our love, our benison.
Come, noble Burgundy.
[Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, GONERIL,
REGAN, and CORDELIA]
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 named. Use well our father:
To your professed bosoms I commit him
But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place.
So, farewell to you both.
REGAN Prescribe not us our duties.
GONERIL Let your study
Be to content your lord, who hath received you
At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.
CORDELIA Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper!
KING OF FRANCE Come, my fair Cordelia.
[Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and CORDELIA]
GONERIL Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what
most nearly appertains to us both. I think our
father will hence to-night.
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 loved our sister most; and
with what poor judgment he hath now cast her 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 imperfections of long-engraffed
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.
GONERIL There is further compliment of leavetaking
between France and him. Pray you, let's hit
together: if our father carry authority with
such dispositions as he bears, this last
surrender of his will but offend us.
REGAN We shall further think on't.
GONERIL We must do something, and i' the heat.
[Exeunt]

Scene II The Earl of Gloucester's castle.

[Enter EDMUND, with a letter]
EDMUND Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
[Enter GLOUCESTER]
GLOUCESTER Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted!
And the king gone to-night! subscribed his power!
Confined to exhibition! All this done
Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! what news?
EDMUND So please your lordship, none.
[Putting up the letter]
GLOUCESTER Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?
EDMUND I know no news, my lord.
GLOUCESTER What paper were you reading?
EDMUND Nothing, my lord.
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.
EDMUND I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter
from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read;
and for so much as I have perused, I find it not
fit for your o'er-looking.
GLOUCESTER Give me the letter, sir.
EDMUND I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The
contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.
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.
GLOUCESTER [Reads] 'This policy and reverence of age makes
the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps
our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish
them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage
in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not
as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to
me, that of this I may speak more. If our father
would sleep till I waked him, you should half his
revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your
brother, EDGAR.'
Hum--conspiracy!--'Sleep till I waked him,--you
should enjoy half his revenue,'--My son Edgar!
Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain
to breed it in?--When came this to you? who
brought it?
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.
GLOUCESTER You know the character to be your brother's?
EDMUND If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear
it were his; but, in respect of that, I would
fain think it were not.
GLOUCESTER It is his.
EDMUND It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is
not in the contents.
GLOUCESTER Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business?
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.
GLOUCESTER O villain, villain! His very opinion in the
letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested,
brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah,
seek him; I'll apprehend him: abominable villain!
Where is he?
EDMUND I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please
you to suspend your indignation against my
brother till you can derive from him better
testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain
course; where, if you violently proceed against
him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great
gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the
heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life
for him, that he hath wrote this to feel my
affection to your honour, and to no further
pretence of danger.
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.
GLOUCESTER He cannot be such a monster--
EDMUND Nor is not, sure.
GLOUCESTER To his father, that so tenderly and entirely
loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him
out: wind me into him, I pray you: frame the
business after your own wisdom. I would unstate
myself, to be in a due resolution.
EDMUND I will seek him, sir, presently: convey the
business as I shall find means and acquaint you withal.
GLOUCESTER These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend
no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can
reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself
scourged by the sequent effects: love cools,
friendship falls off, brothers divide: in
cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in
palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son
and father. This villain of mine comes under the
prediction; there's son against father: the king
falls from bias of nature; there's father against
child. We have seen the best of our time:
machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all
ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our
graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall
lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the
noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his
offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.
[Exit]
EDMUND This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,
when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit
of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our
disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as
if we were villains by necessity; fools by
heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and
treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards,
liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of
planetary influence; and all that we are evil in,
by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion
of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish
disposition to the charge of a star! My
father compounded with my mother under the
dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa
major; so that it follows, I am rough and
lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am,
had the maidenliest star in the firmament
twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar--
[Enter EDGAR]
And pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old
comedy: my cue is villanous melancholy, with a
sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. O, these eclipses do
portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.
EDGAR How now, brother Edmund! what serious
contemplation are you in?
EDMUND I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
this other day, what should follow these eclipses.
EDGAR Do you busy yourself about that?
EDMUND I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed
unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child
and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of
ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and
maledictions against king and nobles; needless
diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation
of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.
EDGAR How long have you been a sectary astronomical?
EDMUND Come, come; when saw you my father last?
EDGAR Why, the night gone by.
EDMUND Spake you with him?
EDGAR Ay, two hours together.
EDMUND Parted you in good terms? Found you no
displeasure in him by word or countenance?
EDGAR None at all.
EDMUND Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended
him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence
till some little time hath qualified the heat of
his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth
in him, that with the mischief of your person it
would scarcely allay.
EDGAR Some villain hath done me wrong.
EDMUND That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent
forbearance till the spied of his rage goes
slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my
lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to
hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there's my key:
if you do stir abroad, go armed.
EDGAR Armed, brother!
EDMUND Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed: I
am no honest man if there be any good meaning
towards you: I have told you what I have seen
and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image
and horror of it: pray you, away.
EDGAR Shall I hear from you anon?
EDMUND I do serve you in this business.
[Exit EDGAR]
A credulous father! and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty
My practises ride easy! I see the business.
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:
All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.
[Exit]

Scene III The Duke of Albany's palace.

[Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD, her steward]
GONERIL Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?
OSWALD Yes, madam.
GONERIL By day and night he wrongs me; every hour
He flashes into one gross crime or other,
That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,
I will not speak with him; say I am sick:
If you come slack of former services,
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.
OSWALD He's coming, madam; I hear him.
[Horns within]
GONERIL Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows; I'll have it come to question:
If he dislike it, let him to our sister,
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man,
That still would manage those authorities
That he hath given away! Now, by my life,
Old fools are babes again; and must be used
With cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused.
Remember what I tell you.
OSWALD Well, madam.
GONERIL And let his knights have colder looks among you;
What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so:
I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall,
That I may speak: I'll write straight to my sister,
To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner.
[Exeunt]

Scene IV A hall in the same.

[Enter KENT, disguised]
KENT If but as well I other accents borrow,
That can my speech defuse, my good intent
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest,
Shall find thee full of labours.
[Horns within. Enter KING LEAR, Knights, and
Attendants]
KING LEAR Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready.
[Exit an Attendant]
How now! what art thou?
KENT A man, sir.
KING LEAR What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with us?
KENT I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve
him truly that will put me in trust: to love him
that is honest; to converse with him that is wise,
and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I
cannot choose; and to eat no fish.
KING LEAR What art thou?
KENT A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.
KING LEAR If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a
king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?
KENT Service.
KING LEAR Who wouldst thou serve?
KENT You.
KING LEAR Dost thou know me, fellow?
KENT No, sir; but you have that in your countenance
which I would fain call master.
KING LEAR What's that?
KENT Authority.
KING LEAR What services canst thou do?
KENT I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious
tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message
bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am
qualified in; and the best of me is diligence.
KING LEAR How old art thou?
KENT Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor
so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years
on my back forty eight.
KING LEAR Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no
worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet.
Dinner, ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool?
Go you, and call my fool hither.
[Exit an Attendant]
[Enter OSWALD]
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?
OSWALD So please you,--
[Exit]
KING LEAR What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.
[Exit a Knight]
Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep.
[Re-enter Knight]
How now! where's that mongrel?
Knight He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.
KING LEAR Why came not the slave back to me when I called him.
Knight Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would
not.
KING LEAR He would not!
Knight My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my
judgment, your highness is not entertained with that
ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a
great abatement of kindness appears as well in the
general dependants as in the duke himself also and
your daughter.
KING LEAR Ha! sayest thou so?
Knight I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken;
for my duty cannot be silent when I think your
highness wronged.
KING LEAR Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I
have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I
have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity
than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness:
I will look further into't. But where's my fool? I
have not seen him this two days.
Knight Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the
fool hath much pined away.
KING LEAR No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and
tell my daughter I would speak with her.
[Exit an Attendant]
Go you, call hither my fool.
[Exit an Attendant]
[Re-enter OSWALD]
O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I,
sir?
OSWALD My lady's father.
KING LEAR 'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your
whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!
OSWALD I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.
KING LEAR Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
[Striking him]
OSWALD I'll not be struck, my lord.
KENT Nor tripped neither, you base football player.
[Tripping up his heels]
KING LEAR I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll
love thee.
KENT Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences:
away, away! if you will measure your lubber's
length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you
wisdom? so.
[Pushes OSWALD out]
KING LEAR Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's
earnest of thy service.
[Giving KENT money]
[Enter Fool]
Fool Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb.
[Offering KENT his cap]
KING LEAR How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?
Fool Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
KENT Why, fool?
Fool Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour:
nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits,
thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb:
why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters,
and did the third a blessing against his will; if
thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.
How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!
KING LEAR Why, my boy?
Fool If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs
myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters.
KING LEAR Take heed, sirrah; the whip.
Fool Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped
out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink.
KING LEAR A pestilent gall to me!
Fool Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.
KING LEAR Do.
Fool Mark it, nuncle:
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest,
Set less than thou throwest;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score.
KENT This is nothing, fool.
Fool Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you
gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of
nothing, nuncle?
KING LEAR Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.
Fool [To KENT] Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of
his land comes to: he will not believe a fool.
KING LEAR A bitter fool!
Fool Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a
bitter fool and a sweet fool?
KING LEAR No, lad; teach me.
Fool That lord that counsell'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,
Do thou for him stand:
The sweet and bitter fool
Will presently appear;
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.
KING LEAR Dost thou call me fool, boy?
Fool All thy other titles thou hast given away; that
thou wast born with.
KENT This is not altogether fool, my lord.
Fool No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if
I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't:
and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool
to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg,
nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.
KING LEAR What two crowns shall they be?
Fool Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat
up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou
clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away
both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o'er
the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown,
when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak
like myself in this, let him be whipped that first
finds it so.
[Singing]
Fools had ne'er less wit in a year;
For wise men are grown foppish,
They know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.
KING LEAR When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?
Fool I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy
daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them
the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches,
[Singing]
Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.
Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach
thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie.
KING LEAR An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped.
Fool I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are:
they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt
have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am
whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any
kind o' thing than a fool: and yet I would not be
thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides,
and left nothing i' the middle: here comes one o'
the parings.
[Enter GONERIL]
KING LEAR How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on?
Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown.
Fool Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to
care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a
figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool,
thou art nothing.
[To GONERIL]
Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face
bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some.
[Pointing to KING LEAR]
That's a shealed peascod.
GONERIL Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool,
But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth
In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir,
I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,
By what yourself too late have spoke and done.
That you protect this course, and put it on
By your allowance; which if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence,
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding.
Fool For, you trow, nuncle,
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it's had it head bit off by it young.
So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
KING LEAR Are you our daughter?
GONERIL Come, sir,
I would you would make use of that good wisdom,
Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away
These dispositions, that of late transform you
From what you rightly are.
Fool May not an ass know when the cart
draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee.
KING LEAR Doth any here know me? This is not Lear:
Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
Either his notion weakens, his discernings
Are lethargied--Ha! waking? 'tis not so.
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
Fool Lear's shadow.
KING LEAR I would learn that; for, by the
marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason,
I should be false persuaded I had daughters.
Fool Which they will make an obedient father.
KING LEAR Your name, fair gentlewoman?
GONERIL This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
To understand my purposes aright:
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy: be then desired
By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
A little to disquantity your train;
And the remainder, that shall still depend,
To be such men as may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.
KING LEAR Darkness and devils!
Saddle my horses; call my train together:
Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee.
Yet have I left a daughter.
GONERIL You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters.
[Enter ALBANY]
KING LEAR Woe, that too late repents,--
[To ALBANY]
O, sir, are you come?
Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses.
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child
Than the sea-monster!
ALBANY Pray, sir, be patient.
KING LEAR [To GONERIL] Detested kite! thou liest.
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know,
And in the most exact regard support
The worships of their name. O most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
That, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature
From the fix'd place; drew from heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,
[Striking his head]
And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.
ALBANY My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath moved you.
KING LEAR It may be so, my lord.
Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful!
Into her womb convey sterility!
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
And be a thwart disnatured torment to her!
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child! Away, away!
[Exit]
ALBANY Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?
GONERIL Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
But let his disposition have that scope
That dotage gives it.
[Re-enter KING LEAR]
KING LEAR What, fifty of my followers at a clap!
Within a fortnight!
ALBANY What's the matter, sir?
KING LEAR I'll tell thee:
[To GONERIL]
Life and death! I am ashamed
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!
The untented woundings of a father's curse
Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this?
Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter,
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable:
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever: thou shalt,
I warrant thee.
[Exeunt KING LEAR, KENT, and Attendants]
GONERIL Do you mark that, my lord?
ALBANY I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
To the great love I bear you,--
GONERIL Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho!
[To the Fool]
You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master.
Fool Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool
with thee.
A fox, when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter:
So the fool follows after.
[Exit]
GONERIL This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights!
'Tis politic and safe to let him keep
At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream,
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!
ALBANY Well, you may fear too far.
GONERIL Safer than trust too far:
Let me still take away the harms I fear,
Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart.
What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister
If she sustain him and his hundred knights
When I have show'd the unfitness,--
[Re-enter OSWALD]
How now, Oswald!
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?
OSWALD Yes, madam.
GONERIL Take you some company, and away to horse:
Inform her full of my particular fear;
And thereto add such reasons of your own
As may compact it more. Get you gone;
And hasten your return.
[Exit OSWALD]
No, no, my lord,
This milky gentleness and course of yours
Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom
Than praised for harmful mildness.
ALBANY How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell:
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.
GONERIL Nay, then--
ALBANY Well, well; the event.
[Exeunt]

Scene V Court before the same.

[Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool]
KING LEAR Go you before to Gloucester with these letters.
Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you
know than comes from her demand out of the letter.
If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you.
KENT I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered
your letter.
[Exit]
Fool If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in
danger of kibes?
KING LEAR Ay, boy.
Fool Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go
slip-shod.
KING LEAR Ha, ha, ha!
Fool Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly;
for though she's as like this as a crab's like an
apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
KING LEAR Why, what canst thou tell, my boy?
Fool She will taste as like this as a crab does to a
crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i'
the middle on's face?
KING LEAR No.
Fool Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that
what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.
KING LEAR I did her wrong--
Fool Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?
KING LEAR No.
Fool Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.
KING LEAR Why?
Fool Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his
daughters, and leave his horns without a case.
KING LEAR I will forget my nature. So kind a father! Be my
horses ready?
Fool Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the
seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.
KING LEAR Because they are not eight?
Fool Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool.
KING LEAR To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude!
Fool If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten
for being old before thy time.
KING LEAR How's that?
Fool Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst
been wise.
KING LEAR O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven
Keep me in temper: I would not be mad!
[Enter Gentleman]
How now! are the horses ready?
Gentleman Ready, my lord.
KING LEAR Come, boy.
Fool She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.
[Exeunt]

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