Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Michael Best
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King Lear (Quarto 1, 1608)


530
Enter Kent.
Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, that can my speech
defuse, my good intent may carry through it selfe to that full is-
sue for which I raz'd my likenes, now banisht Kent, 535if thou canst
serue where thou dost stand condem'd, thy maister whom thou
louest shall find the full of labour.
Enter Lear.
Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, goe get it readie, 540how
now, what art thou?
Kent. A man Sir.
Lear. What dost thou professe? what would'st thou with vs?
Kent. I doe professe to be no lesse then I seeme, to serue 545him
truly that will put me in trust, to loue him that is honest, to con-
uerse with him that is wise, and sayes little, to feare iudgement,
to fight when I cannot chuse, and to eate no fishe.
Lear. What art thou?
550Kent. A very honest harted fellow, and as poore as the king.
Lear. If thou be as poore for a subiect, as he is for a King, thar't
poore enough, what would'st thou?
Kent. Seruice. Lear. 555Who would'st thou serue?
Kent. You. Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?
Kent. No sir, but you haue that in your countenance, which
I would faine call Maister.
560Lear. Whats that? Kent. Authoritie.
Lear. What seruices canst doe?
Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, mar a curious
tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message 565bluntly, that
which ordinarie men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best
of me, is diligence.
Lear, How old art thou?
Kent. Not so yong to loue a woman for singing, nor so old to
dote on her for any thing, I haue yeares on 570my backe fortie
eight.
Lear. Follow mee, thou shalt serue mee, if I like thee no
worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet, dinner, ho din-
ner, wher's my knaue, my foole, goe you and call my foole he-
ther, you sirra, whers my daughter?
575
Enter Steward.
Steward. So please you,
Lear. What say's the fellow there, call the clat-pole backe,
whers my foole, ho I thinke the world's asleepe, how now,
wher's that mungrel?
580Kent. He say's my Lord, your daughter is not well.
Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to mee when I cal'd
him?
seruant. Sir, hee answered mee in the roundest maner, hee
would not.
585 Lear. A would not?
seruant. My Lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my
iudgemẽt, your highnes is not ẽtertained with that ceremonious
affection as you were wont, ther's a great abatement, apeer's as
well in 590the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also,
and your daughter.
Lear. Ha, say'st thou so?
seruant. I beseech you pardon mee my Lord, if I be mistaken,
for my dutie cannot bee silent, when I thinke 595your highnesse
wrong'd.
Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine owne conception, I
haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late, which I haue rather
blamed as mine owne ielous curiositie, then as a very pretence &
purport of vnkindnesse, 600I will looke further into't, but wher's
this foole? I haue not seene him this two dayes.
seruant. Since my yong Ladies going into France sir, the foole
hath much pined away.
Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it, goe you 605and tell my
daughter, I would speake with her, goe you cal hither my foole,
O you sir, you sir, come you hither, who am I sir?
Steward. My Ladies Father.
610Lear. My Ladies father, my Lords knaue, you horeson dog,
you slaue, you cur.
Stew. I am none of this my Lord, I beseech you pardon me.
Lear. Doe you bandie lookes with me you rascall?
615Stew. Ile not be struck my Lord,
Kent. Nor tript neither, you base football player.
Lear. I thanke thee fellow, thou seru'st me, and ile loue thee.
Kent. Come sir ile teach you differences, 620away, away, if
you will measure your lubbers length againe, tarry, but away,
you haue wisedome.
Lear. Now friendly knaue I thanke thee, their's earnest of
thy seruice.
Enter Foole.
625Foole. Let me hire him too, heer's my coxcombe.
Lear. How now my prety knaue, how do'st thou?
Foole. Sirra, you were best take my coxcombe.
Kent. Why Foole?
Foole. Why for taking on's part, that's out of fauour, 630nay and
thou can'st not smile as the wind sits, thou't catch cold shortly,
there take my coxcombe; why this fellow hath banisht two
on's daughters, and done the third a blessing against his will, if
thou follow him, thou must needs weare my coxcombe, how
now nuncle, would 635I had two coxcombes, and two daughters.
Lear. Why my boy?
Foole. If I gaue them any liuing, id'e keepe my coxcombs
my selfe, ther's mine, beg another of thy daughters.
640Lear. Take heede sirra, the whip.
Foole. Truth is a dog that must to kenell, hee must bee whipt
out, when Ladie oth'e brach may stand by the fire and stincke.
Lear. A pestilent gull to mee.
645Foole. Sirra ile teach thee a speech. Lear. Doe.
Foole. Marke it vncle; haue more then thou shewest, speake
lesse then thou knowest, 650lend lesse then thou owest, ride more
then thou goest, learne more then thou trowest, set lesse then
thou throwest, leaue thy drinke and thy whore, 655and keepe in a
doore, and thou shalt haue more, then two tens to a score.
Lear. This is nothing foole.
Foole. Then like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer, 660you gaue
me nothing for't, can you make no vse of nothing vncle?
Lear. Why no boy, nothing can be made out of nothing.
Foole. Preethe tell him so much the rent of his land 665comes to,
he will not beleeue a foole.
Lear. A bitter foole.
Foole. Doo'st know the difference my boy, betweene a bitter
foole, and a sweete foole.
Lear. No lad, teach mee.
Foole. That Lord that counsail'd thee to giue away thy land,
Come place him heere by mee, doe thou for him stand,
The sweet and bitter foole will presently appeare,
The one in motley here, the other found out there.
Lear. Do'st thou call mee foole boy?
Foole. All thy other Titles thou hast giuen away, that thou
wast borne with.
Kent. This is not altogether foole my Lord.
Foole. No faith, Lords and great men will not let me, if I had
a monopolie out, they would haue part an't, and Ladies too, they
will not let me haue all the foole to my selfe, they'l be snatching;
670giue me an egge Nuncle, and ile giue thee two crownes.
Lear. What two crownes shall they be?
Foole. Why, after I haue cut the egge in the middle and eate
vp the meate, the two crownes of the egge; when 675thou clouest
thy crowne it'h middle, and gauest away both parts, thou borest
thy asse at'h backe or'e the durt, thou had'st little wit in thy bald
crowne, when thou gauest thy golden one away, if I speake like
my selfe in this, let him be whipt that first finds it so.
680Fooles had nere lesse wit in a yeare,
For wise men are growne foppish,
They know not how their wits doe weare,
Their manners are so apish.
Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs sirra?
685Foole. I haue vs'd it nuncle, euer since thou mad'st thy daugh-
ters thy mother, for when thou gauest them the rod, and put'st
downe thine own breeches, then they for sudden ioy did weep,
and I for sorrow sung, 690that such a King should play bo-peepe,
and goe the fooles among: prethe Nunckle keepe a schoolema-
ster that can teach thy foole to lye, I would faine learneto lye.
Lear. And you lye, weele haue you whipt.
695Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are, they'l
haue me whipt for speaking true, thou wilt haue mee whipt for
lying, and sometime I am whipt for holding my peace, I had
rather be any kind of thing then a foole, and yet I would not bee
thee Nuncle, thou hast pared thy 700wit a both sides, & left nothing
in the middle, here comes one of the parings.
Enter Gonorill.
Lear. How now daughter, what makes that Frontlet on,
Me thinks you are too much alate it'h frowne.
705Foole. Thou wast a prettie fellow when no need
to care for her frowne, now thou art an O without a figure, I am
better then thou art now, I am a foole, thou art nothing, yes for-
sooth I will hould my tongue, so your face bids mee, though
you say nothing.
710Mum, mum, he that keepes neither crust nor crum,
Wearie of all, shall want some. That's a sheald pescod.
Gon. Not onely sir this, your all-licenc'd foole, but other of
your insolent retinue do hourely carpe and quarrell, breaking
forth in ranke & (not to be indured riots,) Sir I had thought by
making this well knowne vnto you, to haue found a safe redres,
but now grow fearefull by what your selfe too late haue spoke
and done, that you protect this course, and put on 720by your al-
lowance, which if you should, the fault would not scape censure,
nor the redresse, sleepe, which in the tender of a wholsome
weale, might in their working doe you that offence, that else
were shame, that then necessitie 725must call discreet proceedings.
Foole. For you trow nuncle, the hedge sparrow fed the Coo-
kow so long, that it had it head bit off beit young, so out went
the candle, and we were left darkling.
730Lear. Are you our daughter?
Gon. Come sir, I would you would make vse of that good
wisedome whereof I know you are fraught, and put away these
dispositions, that of late transforme you from what you rightly
are.
735Foole. May not an Asse know when the cart drawes the horse,
whoop Iug I loue thee.
Lear. Doth any here know mee? why this is not Lear, 740doth
Lear walke thus? speake thus? where are his eyes, either his no-
tion, weaknes, or his discernings are lethergie, sleeping, or wake-
ing; ha! sure tis not so, who is it that can tell me who I am? Lears
shadow? I would learne that, for by the markes of soueraintie,
744.1knowledge, and reason, I should bee false perswaded I had
daughters.
Foole. Which they, will make an obedient father.
745Lear. Your name faire gentlewoman?
Gon. Come sir, this admiration is much of the sauour of other
your new prankes, I doe beseech you vnderstand my purposes
aright, as you are old and reuerend, should be wise, 750here do you
keepe a 100. Knights and Squires, men so disordred, so deboyst
and bold, that this our court infected with their manners, showes
like a riotous Inne, epicurisme, and lust make more like a tauerne
or brothell, 755then a great pallace, the shame it selfe doth speake
for instant remedie, be thou desired by her, that else will take the
thing shee begs, a little to disquantitie your traine, and the re-
mainder that shall still depend, 760to bee such men as may besort
your age, that know themselues and you.
Lear. Darkenes, and Deuils! saddle my horses, call my traine
together, degenerate bastard, ile not trouble thee, 765yet haue I left
a daughter.
Gon. You strike my people, and your disordred rabble, make
seruants of their betters.
Enter Duke.
Lear. We that too late repent's, O sir, are you come? 770is it your
will that wee prepare any horses, ingratitude! thou marble har-
ted fiend, more hideous when thou shewest thee in a child, then
the Sea-monster, 775detested kite, thou list my traine, and men of
choise and rarest parts, that all particulars of dutie knowe, and
in the most exact regard, support the worships of their name, O
most small fault, 780how vgly did'st thou in Cordelia shewe, that
like an engine wrencht my frame of nature from the fixt place,
drew from my heart all loue and added to the gall, O Lear. Lear!
beat at this gate that let thy folly in, 785and thy deere iudgement
out, goe goe, my people?
Duke, My Lord, I am giltles as I am ignorant.
Leir. It may be so my Lord, harke Nature, heare deere God-
desse, 790suspend thy purpose, if thou did'st intend to make this
creature fruitful into her wombe, conuey sterility, drie vp in hir
the organs of increase, and from her derogate body neuer spring
795a babe to honour her, if shee must teeme, create her childe of
spleene, that it may liue and bee a thourt disuetur'd torment to
her, let it stampe wrinckles in her brow of youth, with accent
teares, fret channels in her cheeks, 800turne all her mothers paines
and benefits to laughter and contempt, that shee may feele, that
she may feele, how sharper then a serpents tooth it is, to haue a
thanklesse child, goe, goe, my people?
Duke. Now Gods that we adore, 805whereof comes this!
Gon. Neuer afflict your selfe to know the cause, but let his
disposition haue that scope that dotage giues it.
810Lear. What, fiftie of my followers at a clap, within a fortnight?
Duke. What is the matter sir?
Lear. Ile tell thee, life and death! I am asham'd 815that thou hast
power to shake my manhood thus, that these hot teares that
breake from me perforce, should make the worst blasts and fogs
vpon the vntented woundings of a fathers cursse, 820pierce euery
sence about the old fond eyes, beweepe this cause againe, ile
pluck you out, & you cast with the waters that you make to tem-
per clay, yea, i'st come to this? yet haue I left a daughter, 825whom
I am sure is kind and comfortable, when shee shall heare this of
thee, with her nailes shee'l flea thy woluish visage, thou shalt
find that ile resume the shape, which thou dost thinke I haue cast
off for euer, thou shalt I warrant thee.
830Gon. Doe you marke that my Lord?
Duke. I cannot bee so partiall Gonorill to the great loue I
beare you,
Gon. Come sir no more, you, more knaue then foole, after
your master?
835Foole. Nunckle Lear, Nunckle Lear, tary and take the foole
with a fox when one has caught her, and such a daughter should
sure to the slaughter, 840if my cap would buy a halter, so the foole
followes after.
Gon. What Oswald, ho.Oswald. Here Madam,
Gon. What haue you writ this letter to my sister?
Osw. Yes Madam.
860Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse, informe
her full of my particular feares, and thereto add such reasons of
your owne, as may compact it more, get you gon, & after your
returne now my Lord, 865this mildie gentlenes and course of yours
though I dislike not, yet vnder pardon y'are much more alapt
want of wisedome, then praise for harmfull mildnes.
Duke. How farre your eyes may pearce I cannot tell, 870striuing
to better ought, we marre whats well.
Gon. Nay then. Duke. Well, well, the euent,
Exeunt