King Lear (Quarto 1, 1608)
Not Peer Reviewed
M. William Shak-speare:
HIS
True Chronicle Historie of the life and
death of King LEAR and his three
Daughters.
With the vnfortunate life of Edgar, sonne
and heire to the Earle of Gloster, and his
sullen and assumed humor of
TOM of Bedlam:
As it was played before the King's Maiestie at Whitehall vpon
S.Stephans night in Christmas Hollidayes.
By his Maiesties seruants playing vsually at the Gloabe
on the Bancke-side.
LONDON,
Printed for Nathaniel Butter, and are to be sold at his shop in Pauls
Church-yard at the signe of the Pide Bull neere
St. Austins Gate. 1608.
M.William Shak-speare
HISHistorie, of King Lear.
¶
Enter Kent, Gloster, and Bastard.
¶
Kent.
¶I Thought the King had more affected the Duke of Al-
5bany then Cornwell.
¶diuision of the kingdomes, it appeares not which of
¶ten blusht to acknowledge him, that now I am braz'd to it.
15Kent. I cannot conceiue you.
¶grew round wombed, and had indeed Sir a sonne for her cradle,
¶proper.
¶der then this, who yet is no deerer in my account, though this
¶this noble gentleman Edmund?
¶Bast. No my Lord.
¶norable friend.
¶againe, the King is comming.
¶
Sound a Sennet, Enter one bearing a Coronet, then Lear, then the
¶The map there; know we haue diuided
¶In three, our kingdome; and tis our first intent,
45Confirming them on yonger yeares,
50The two great Princes France and Burgundy,
¶Great ryuals in our youngest daughters loue,
¶Long in our Court haue made their amorous soiourne,
¶And here are to be answerd, tell me my daughters,
¶That we our largest bountie may extend,
¶Where merit doth most challenge it,
¶Beyond what can be valued rich or rare,
¶As much a child ere loued, or father friend,
65A loue that makes breath poore, and speech vnable,
¶Beyond all manner of so much I loue you.
75And prize me at her worth in my true heart,
80And find I am alone felicitate, in your deere highnes loue.
¶My loues more richer then my tongue.
85Lear. To thee and thine hereditarie euer
¶Remaine this ample third of our faire kingdome,
¶Then that confirm'd on Gonorill, but now our ioy,
¶What can you say to win a third, more opulent
¶Cord. Nothing my Lord.
¶Cord. Vnhappie that I am, I cannot heaue my heart into my
¶mouth, I loue your Maiestie according to my bond, nor more nor
¶Least it may mar your fortunes.
¶Cord. Good my Lord,
¶You haue begot me, bred me, loued me,
¶I returne those duties backe as are right fit,
105Obey you, loue you, and most honour you,
¶Lear. But goes this with thy heart?
¶Cord. I good my Lord.
¶Cord. So yong my Lord and true.
¶For by the sacred radience of the Sunne,
¶By all the operation of the orbs,
120Heere I disclaime all my paternall care,
¶Propinquitie and property of blood,
¶And as a stranger to my heart and me
¶Hould thee from this for euer: the barbarous Scythyan,
¶Or he that makes his generation
¶Shall bee as well neighbour'd, pittyed and relieued
¶As thou my sometime daughter.
¶Kent. Good my Liege.
¶On her kind nurcery, hence and auoide my sight?
¶So be my graue my peace as here I giue,
¶Her fathers heart from her, call France, who stirres?
135Call Burgundy, Cornwell, and Albany,
¶With my two daughters dower digest this third,
¶Let pride, which she cals plainnes, marrie her:
¶I doe inuest you iointly in my powre,
¶Preheminence, and all the large effects
¶With reseruation of an hundred knights,
¶Make with you by due turnes, onely we still retaine
¶The name and all the additions to a King,
¶Beloued sonnes be yours, which to confirme,
¶This Coronet part betwixt you.
¶Kent. Royall Lear,
¶Whom I haue euer honor'd as my King,
150Loued as my Father, as my maister followed,
¶As my great patron thought on in my prayers.
¶Kent. Let it fall rather,
¶Though the forke inuade the region of my heart,
155Be Kent vnmannerly when Lear is man,
¶What wilt thou doe ould man, think'st thou that dutie
¶Shall haue dread to speake, when power to flatterie bowes,
¶Reuerbs no hollownes.
165Lear. Kent on thy life no more.
¶Kent. My life I neuer held but as a pawne
¶Thy safty being the motiue.
¶The true blanke of thine eye.
¶Lear. Now by Appollo,
¶Reuoke thy doome, or whilst I can vent clamour
180From my throat, ile tell thee thou dost euill.
¶Lear. Heare me, on thy allegeance heare me?
¶To come betweene our sentence and our powre,
185Which nor our nature nor our place can beare,
¶Our potency made good, take thy reward,
¶Foure dayes we doe allot thee for prouision,
¶And on the fift to turne thy hated backe
190Vpon our kingdome, if on the tenth day following,
¶Thy banisht truncke be found in our dominions,
¶The moment is thy death, away, by Iupiter
¶This shall not be reuokt.
¶The Gods to their protection take the maide,
¶And your large speeches may your deedes approue,
¶That good effects may spring from wordes of loue:
200Thus Kent O Princes, bids you all adew,
¶
Enter France and Burgundie with Gloster.
¶Glost. Heers France and Burgundie my noble Lord.
¶Who with a King hath riuald for our daughter,
¶And nothing else may fitly like your grace,
¶Shees there, and she is yours.
¶Vnfriended, new adopted to our hate,
¶Take her or leaue her.
¶On such conditions.
¶I tell you all her wealth, for you great King,
230To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you,
¶To auert your liking a more worthier way,
¶Then on a wretch whome nature is ashamed
¶Almost to acknowledge hers.
¶Should in this trice of time commit a thing,
¶That monsters it, or you for voucht affections
¶Falne into taint, which to beleeue of her
¶Could neuer plant in me.
¶If for I want that glib and oyly Art,
¶Ile do't before I speake, that you may know
¶It is no vicious blot, murder or foulnes,
¶That hath depriu'd me of your grace and fauour,
¶But euen for want of that, for which I am rich,
¶As I am glad I haue not, though not to haue it,
255Hath lost me in your liking.
¶Then not to haue pleas'd me better.
¶Fran. Is it no more but this, a tardines in nature,
260My Lord of Burgundie, what say you to the Lady?
¶Aloofe from the intire point wil you haue her?
¶She is her selfe and dowre.
265Burg. Royall Leir, giue but that portion
¶By the hand, Dutches of Burgundie,
¶Of fortune are his loue, I shall not be his wife.
¶Thee and thy vertues here I ceaze vpon,
¶Be it lawfull I take vp whats cast away,
¶Thy dowreles daughter King throwne to thy chance,
¶Is Queene of vs, of ours, and our faire France:
¶Not all the Dukes in watrish Burgundie,
¶Shall buy this vnprizd precious maide of me,
285Bid them farewell Cordelia, though vnkind
¶That face of hers againe, therfore be gone,
290Without our grace, our loue, our benizon? come noble
(Burgũdy.
291.1
Exit Lear and Burgundie.
¶Cord. The iewels of our father,
¶As they are named, vse well our Father,
¶But yet alas stood I within his grace,
¶I would preferre him to a better place:
300So farewell to you both?
¶Who hath receaued you at Fortunes almes,
¶You haue obedience scanted,
305And well are worth the worth that you haue wanted.
¶Well may you prosper.
¶Of what most neerely appertaines to vs both,
¶I thinke our father will hence to night.
¶derly knowne himselfe.
¶fection of long ingrafted condition, but therwithal vnruly way-
¶wardnes, that infirme and cholericke yeares bring with them.
¶this of Kents banishment.
¶Gono. There is further complement of leaue taking betweene
¶France and him, pray lets hit together, if our Father cary autho-
330will but offend vs,
¶
Enter Bastard Solus.
¶and permit the curiositie of nations to depriue me, for that I am
340wherfore base, when my dementions are as well compact, my
¶doth within a stale dull lyed bed, goe to the creating of a whole
¶tribe of fops got tweene a sleepe and wake; well the legitimate
¶Edmund, as to the legitimate, well my legitimate, if this letter
¶
Enter Gloster.
360bition, all this donne vpon the gadde; Edmund how now
¶what newes?
¶Bast. I know no newes my Lord.
365Glost. What paper were you reading?
¶Bast. Nothing my Lord,
¶your pocket, the qualitie of nothing hath not such need to hide
370cles.
¶not fit for your liking.
¶as in part I vnderstand them, are too blame.
A Letter.
¶of our times, keepes our fortunes from vs till our oldnes cannot
¶reuenew for euer, and liue the beloued of your brother Ed-
¶gar.
¶his reuenew, my sonne Edgar, had hee a hand to write this, a
¶hart, and braine to breed it in, when came this to you, who
¶brought it?
¶Bast. It was not brought me my Lord, ther's the cunning of
¶Glost. You know the Caractar to be your brothers?
¶his but in respect, of that I would faine thinke it were not,
¶Glost. It is his?
¶Bast. It is his hand my Lord, but I hope his heart is not in
¶the contents.
405Bast. Neuer my Lord, but I haue often heard him maintaine
¶it to be fit, that sons at perfit age, & fathers declining, his father
¶uenew.
¶where is he?
¶honour, & shake in peeces the heart of his obediẽce, I dare pawn
420downe my life for him, he hath wrote this to feele my affection
¶to your honour, and to no further pretence of danger.
¶Bast. If your honour iudge it meete, I will place you where
¶this very euening.
¶heauen and earth! Edmund seeke him out, wind mee into him, I
¶Bast. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when
¶predominance, Drunkards, Lyars, and Adulterers by an enforst
¶obedience of planitary influence, and all that wee are euill in,
¶Father compounded with my Mother vnder the Dragons taile,
¶rough and lecherous, Fut, I should haue beene that I am, had the
¶
Enter Edgar
¶medy, mine is villanous melancholy, with a sith like them of
¶tion are you in?
¶Bast. I am thinking brother of a prediction I read this other
¶es, and I know not what.
475Edg. Why, the night gon by.
¶Bast. Spake you with him?
¶Edg. Two houres together.
¶in him by word or countenance?
480Edg. None at all.
485would scarce allay.
¶Edg. Some villaine hath done me wrong.
495ly, nothing like the image and horror of it; pray you away.
¶Edg. Shall I heare from you anon?
¶A credulous Father, and a brother noble,
¶Let me if not by birth, haue lands by wit,
¶All with me's meete, that I can fashion fit.
Exit.
¶
Enter Gonorill and Gentleman.
¶foole?
¶Gent. Yes Madam.
510Gon. By day and night he wrongs me,
¶That sets vs all at ods, ile not indure it,
¶His Knights grow ryotous, and him selfe obrayds vs,
¶On euery trifell when he returnes from hunting,
¶Gent. Hee's coming Madam, I heare him.
¶authorities that hee hath giuen away, now by my life old fooles
¶are babes again, & must be vs'd with checkes as flatteries, when
¶Gent. Very well Madam.
525Gon. And let his Knights haue colder looks among you, what
¶dinner.
Exit.
530
Enter Kent.
¶
Enter Lear.
540now, what art thou?
¶Kent. A man Sir.
¶Lear. What art thou?
¶poore enough, what would'st thou?
¶I would faine call Maister.
565which ordinarie men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best
¶of me, is diligence.
¶Lear, How old art thou?
¶dote on her for any thing, I haue yeares on my backe fortie
570eight.
¶ner, wher's my knaue, my foole, goe you and call my foole he-
¶ther, you sirra, whers my daughter?
575
Enter Steward.
¶whers my foole, ho I thinke the world's asleepe, how now,
¶wher's that mungrel?
¶him?
585would not.
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
590and your daughter.
Lear. Ha, say'st thou so?
595wrong'd.
¶haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late, which I haue rather
¶blamed as mine owne ielous curiositie, then as a very pretence &
600this foole? I haue not seene him this two dayes.
¶hath much pined away.
¶Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it, goe you and tell my
605daughter, I would speake with her, goe you cal hither my foole,
¶Steward. My Ladies Father.
¶you slaue, you cur.
620you will measure your lubbers length againe, tarry, but away,
¶you haue wisedome.
¶thy seruice.
Enter Foole.
625Foole. Let me hire him too, heer's my coxcombe.
¶Kent. Why Foole?
¶Foole. Why for taking on's part, that's out of fauour, nay and
¶there take my coxcombe; why this fellow hath banisht two
¶thou follow him, thou must needs weare my coxcombe, how
¶now nuncle, would I 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.
¶thou throwest, leaue thy drinke and thy whore, and keepe in a
¶Lear. This is nothing foole.
650Foole. Then like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer, you gaue
¶me nothing for't, can you make no vse of nothing vncle?
¶Lear. Why no boy, nothing can be made out of nothing.
¶he will not beleeue a foole.
655Lear. A bitter foole.
¶foole, and a sweete foole.
¶Lear. No lad, teach mee.
660Come place him heere by mee, doe thou for him stand,
¶The one in motley here, the other found out there.
665wast 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
670giue me an egge Nuncle, and ile giue thee two crownes.
¶Foole. Why, after I haue cut the egge in the middle and eate
¶vp the meate, the two crownes of the egge; when thou clouest
¶They know not how their wits doe weare,
¶downe thine own breeches, then they for sudden ioy did weep,
¶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
700in 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.
¶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-
¶you say nothing.
710Mum, mum, he that keepes neither crust nor crum,
¶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,
¶weale, might in their working doe you that offence, that else
¶the candle, and we were left darkling.
730Lear. Are you our daughter?
wisedome whereof I know you are fraught, and put away these
¶are.
¶whoop Iug I loue thee.
¶Lear. Doth any here know mee? why this is not Lear, doth
¶daughters.
¶Foole. Which they, will make an obedient father.
745Lear. Your name faire gentlewoman?
¶and bold, that this our court infected with their manners, showes
760your age, that know themselues and you.
¶together, degenerate bastard, ile not trouble thee, yet haue I left
765a daughter.
¶seruants of their betters.
Enter Duke.
¶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, and thy deere iudgement
785out, goe goe, my people?
¶Duke, My Lord, I am giltles as I am ignorant.
¶creature fruitful into her wombe, conuey sterility, drie vp in hir
¶her, let it stampe wrinckles in her brow of youth, with accent
¶teares, fret channels in her cheeks, turne all her mothers paines
800and benefits to laughter and contempt, that shee may feele, that
¶Duke. Now Gods that we adore, whereof comes this!
810Lear. What, fiftie of my followers at a clap, within a fortnight?
¶per clay, yea, i'st come to this? yet haue I left a daughter, whom
¶off for euer, thou shalt I warrant thee.
830Gon. Doe you marke that my Lord?
¶beare you,
¶your master?
835Foole. Nunckle Lear, Nunckle Lear, tary and take the foole
¶followes after.
¶Osw. Yes Madam.
¶your owne, as may compact it more, get you gon, & after your
¶returne now my Lord, this mildie gentlenes and course of yours
¶though I dislike not, yet vnder pardon y'are much more alapt
870to better ought, we marre whats well.
¶
Enter Lear.
¶my daughter no further with any thing you know, then comes
¶die, I shall be there before you.
¶letter.
Exit
¶ger of kibes?
Lear. I boy.
¶Lear. Ha ha ha.
¶though shees as like this, as a crab is like an apple, yet I con, what
890I can tel.
895Lear. No.
¶Lear. I did her wrong.
¶Lear. Why?
¶Foole. Why, to put his head in, not to giue it away to his
905daughter, and leaue his hornes without a case.
¶readie?
¶Fool. If thou wert my foole Nunckle, id'e haue thee beatẽ for
¶being old before thy time.
915Lear. Hows that?
¶beene wise.
¶keepe me in temper, I would not be mad, are the horses readie?
¶Foole. Shee that is maide now, and laughs at my departure,
¶Shall not be a maide long, except things be cut shorter.
Exit
¶
Enter Bast. and Curan meeting.
¶Bast. Saue thee Curan.
¶Curan. And you Sir, I haue beene with your father, and giuen
930him notice, that the Duke of Cornwall and his Dutches will bee
¶here with him to night.
¶Bast. How comes that?
¶Curan. Nay, I know not, you haue heard of the newes abroad,
¶guments.
¶Bast. Not, I pray you what are they?
¶Curan. Haue you heard of no likely warres towards, twixt
¶the two Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Bast. Not a word.
¶brother I say, my father watches, O flie this place, intelligence
¶is giuen where you are hid, you haue now the good aduantage
¶Duke of Albany, aduise your---
¶you well, yeeld, come before my father, light here, here, flie
¶on mee would beget opinion of my more fierce indeuour, I
Enter Glost.
¶Glost. Now Edmund where is the villaine?
¶ous Mistris.
Glost. But where is he?
¶Glost. Where is the villaine Edmund?
¶I told him the reuengiue Gods, gainst Paracides did all their
990bould in the quarrels, rights, rousd to the encounter, or whether
¶worthy Arch and Patron, comes to night, by his authoritie I will
¶bringing the murderous caytife to the stake, hee that conceals
1000him, death.
¶worth in thee make thy words fayth'd? no. what I should denie,
¶as this I would, I, though thou didst produce my very character,
¶and thou must make a dullard of the world, if they not thought
¶the profits of my death, were very pregnant and potentiall
¶I neuer got him, harke the Dukes trumpets, I know not why he
comes, all Ports ile barre, the villaine shall not scape, the Duke
1020neere, that all the kingdome may haue note of him, and of my
¶land loyall and naturall boy, ile worke the meanes to make thee
¶capable.
¶
Enter the Duke of Cornwall.
¶I can call but now, I haue heard strange newes.
¶Glost. Madam my old heart is crackt, is crackt.
¶my father named your Edgar?
¶Reg. Was he not companion with the ryotous knights, that
¶tends vpon my father?
1035Glost. I know not Madam, tis too bad, too bad.
¶Bast. Yes Madam, he was.
¶Reg. No maruaile then though he were ill affected,
¶Tis they haue put him on the old mans death,
¶To haue the wast and spoyle of his reuenues:
¶Beene well inform'd of them, and with such cautions,
1045haue shewen your father a child-like office.
¶Bast. Twas my dutie Sir.
1060Glost. For him I thanke your grace.
¶Of defences, which I best thought it fit,
¶From hence attend dispatch, our good old friend,
( Exeunt.
1075
Enter Kent, and Steward.
¶care for mee.
¶Kent. Fellow I know thee.
¶ard, pander, and the sonne and heire of a mungrell bitch, whom
¶ble of the addition.
¶that's neither knowne of thee, nor knowes thee.
¶Kent. What a brazen fac't varlet art thou, to deny thou
¶thy heeles before the King? draw you rogue, for though it be
¶draw you whorson cullyonly barber-munger, draw?
¶Stew. Away, I haue nothing to doe with thee.
¶and take Vanitie the puppets part, against the royaltie of her
¶you rascall, come your wayes.
¶Stew. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.
1115strike?
Stew. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.
¶
Enter Edmund with his rapier drawne, Gloster the Duke
and Dutchesse.
¶Bast. How now, whats the matter?
¶Glost. Weapons, armes, whats the matter here?
¶gaine, what's the matter?
¶haue made him so ill, though hee had beene but two houres at
¶the trade.
¶Glost. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?
¶of his gray-beard.
¶Lord if you'l giue mee leaue, I will tread this vnboulted villaine
¶into morter, and daube the walles of a iaques with him, spare
1140my gray beard you wagtayle.
¶Duke. Why art thou angry?
¶Like Rats oft bite those cordes in twaine,
¶That in the natures of their Lords rebell,
¶Reneag, affirme, and turne their halcion beakes
¶With euery gale and varie of their maisters,
¶Knowing nought like dayes but following, a plague vpon your
(epeliptick
¶Goose and I had you vpon Sarum plaine,
¶Id'e send you cackling home to Camulet.,
¶Duke. What art thou mad old fellow?
1160Kent. No contraries hold more, antipathy,
¶Then I and such a knaue.
¶Kent. His countenance likes me not.
1165Duke. No more perchance does mine, or his, or hers.
¶Kent. Sir tis my occupation to be plaine,
¶I haue seene better faces in my time
¶Before me at this instant.
¶For bluntnes doth affect a sawcy ruffines,
¶And constraines the garb quite from his nature,
¶He cannot flatter he, he must be plaine,
1175If not he's plaine, these kind of knaues I know
¶Which in this plainnes harbour more craft,
¶And more corrupter ends, then twentie silly ducking
¶Vnder the allowance of your graund aspect.
¶Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire
¶In flitkering Phoebus front.
¶much, I know sir, I am no flatterer, he that beguild you in a plain
¶accent, was a plaine knaue, which for my part I will not bee,
1190Duke. What's the offence you gaue him?
1195Tript me behind, being downe, insulted, rayld,
¶And put vpon him such a deale of man, that,
¶That worthied him, got prayses of the King,
¶And in the flechuent of this dread exploit,
1200Drew on me here againe.
1205Weele teach you.
¶Reg. Till noone, till night my Lord, and all night too.
1215Kent. Why Madam, if I were your fathers dogge, you could
¶Reg. Sir being his knaue, I will.
¶His fault is much, and the good King his maister
1221.1{W}ill check him for't, your purpost low correction
1226.1For following her affaires, put in his legges,
¶Come my good Lord away?
1230{W}ill not be rubd nor stopt, ile intreat for thee.
¶A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles,
¶Giue you good morrow.
1235Glost. The Dukes to blame in this, twill be ill tooke.
¶Thou out of heauens benediction comest
¶To the warme Sunne.
1240Approach thou beacon to this vnder gloabe,
¶That by thy comfortable beames I may
¶But miserie, I know tis from Cordelia,
¶{W}ho hath most fortunately bin informed
¶Take vantage heauie eyes not to behold
¶This shamefull lodging, Fortune goodnight,
1250Smile, once more turne thy wheele.
sleepes.
¶
Enter Edgar.
¶And by the happie hollow of a tree
¶Escapt the hunt, no Port is free, no place
¶That euer penury in contempt of man,
1260Brought neare to beast, my face ile grime with filth,
¶Blanket my loynes, else all my haire with knots,
¶And with presented nakednes outface,
¶The Countrie giues me proofe and president
1265Of Bedlam beggers, who with roring voyces,
¶Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare armes,
¶And with this horrible obiect from low seruice,
¶Poore pelting villages, sheep-coates, and milles,
1270Sometime with lunaticke bans, sometime with prayers
¶Enforce their charitie, poore Turlygod, poore Tom,
¶That's something yet, Edgar I nothing am.
Exit
¶
Enter King.
¶Knight. As I learn'd, the night before there was
¶No purpose of his remoue.
¶Foole. Ha ha, looke he weares crewell garters,
¶Horses are tide by the heeles, dogges and beares
¶Byt'h necke, munkies bit'h loynes, and men
¶Byt'h legges, when a mans ouer lusty at legs,
1285Then he weares wooden neatherstockes.
¶thee here?
¶They would not, could not do't, tis worse then murder,
¶Coming from vs.
¶Kent. My Lord, when at their home
¶I did commend your highnes letters to them,
¶My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Post,
¶Stewd in his hast, halfe breathles, panting forth
¶Commanded me to follow, and attend the leasure
¶Of their answere, gaue me cold lookes,
¶Being the very fellow that of late
¶Hauing more man then wit, about me drew,
1330Thy element's below, where is this daughter?
¶Kent. Why foole?
¶no labouring in the winter, all that follow their noses, are led by
¶their eyes, but blind men, and ther's not a nose among a 100. but
1345ing it, but the great one that goes vp the hill, let him draw thee
¶after, when a wise man giues thee better councell, giue mee mine
¶againe, I would haue none but knaues follow it, since a foole
¶giues it.
1350That Sir that serues for gaine,
¶And followes but for forme:
¶Will packe when it begin to raine,
¶And leaue thee in the storme.
¶But I will tarie, the foole will stay,
1355And let the wise man flie :
¶The knaue turnes foole that runs away,
¶The foole no knaue perdy.
¶Kent. Where learnt you this foole?
1360
Enter Lear and Gloster.
¶They traueled hard to night, meare Iustice,
¶I the Images of reuolt and flying off,
1365Fetch mee a better answere.
¶Glost. My deere Lord, you know the fierie qualitie of the
¶Duke, how vnremoueable and fixt he is in his owne Course.
¶his wife.
1375Glost. I my good Lord.
1380Fierie Duke, tell the hot Duke that Lear,
¶No but not yet may be he is not well,
¶Infirmitie doth still neglect all office, where to our health
¶Cõmand the mind to suffer with the bodie, ile forbeare,
¶And am fallen out with my more hedier will,
¶Tell the Duke and's wife, Ile speake with them
¶Now presently, bid them come forth and heare me,
¶Or at their chamber doore ile beat the drum,
1395Till it cry sleepe to death.
¶Glost. I would haue all well betwixt you.
¶Lear. O my heart, my heart.
¶Foole. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cokney did to the eeles, when
1400and cryed downe wantons downe, twas her brother, that in pure
¶kindnes to his horse buttered his hay.
¶
Enter Duke and Regan.
¶Lear. Good morrow to you both.
1405Duke. Hayle to your Grace.
¶I would diuorse me from thy mothers tombe
¶Some other time for that. Beloued Regan,
¶Sharpe tooth'd vnkindnes, like a vulture heare,
1415Of how depriued a qualitie, O Regan.
¶Reg. O Sir you are old,
¶Say you haue wrong'd her Sir?
¶Doe you marke how this becomes the house,
¶That you'l vouchsafe me rayment, bed and food.
1440Lear. No Regan,
¶She hath abated me of halfe my traine,
¶Lookt blacke vpon me, strooke mee with her tongue
¶Most Serpent-like vpon the very heart,
1445Strike her yong bones, you taking ayrs with lamenes.
¶Lear. You nimble lightnings dart your blinding flames,
¶Into her scornfull eyes, infect her beautie,
1450You Fen suckt fogs, drawne by the powrefull Sunne,
¶To fall and blast her pride.
¶When the rash mood---
¶The offices of nature, bond of child-hood,
¶Effects of curtesie, dues of gratitude,
¶Thy halfe of the kingdome, hast thou not forgot
1465Wherein I thee indow'd.
¶Duke. What trumpets that?
Enter Steward.
¶Dwels in the fickle grace of her a followes,
¶Out varlet, from my sight.
¶Thou didst not know ant.
¶Lear. Who comes here? O heauens!
¶Send downe and take my part,
¶Art not asham'd to looke vpon this beard?
¶O Regan wilt thou take her by the hand?
¶Als not offence that indiscretion finds,
¶And dotage tearmes so.
¶Will you yet hold? how came my man it'h stockes?
¶Lear. You, did you?
1495If till the expiration of your moneth,
¶I am now from home, and out of that prouision,
¶Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
¶No rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse
¶To wage against the enmitie of the Ayre,
¶To be a Comrade with the Woolfe and owle,
1505Why the hot bloud in France, that dowerles
¶Tooke our yongest borne, I could as well be brought
¶To knee his throne, and Squire-like pension bag,
¶To keepe base life afoot, returne with her,
1510To this detested groome.
¶Lear. Now I prithee daughter do not make me mad,
¶I will not trouble thee my child, farewell,
¶Wee'le no more meete, no more see one another.
1515But yet thou art my flesh, my bloud, my daughter,
¶Which I must needs call mine, thou art a bile,
¶Corrupted bloud, but Ile not chide thee,
1520Let shame come when it will, I doe not call it,
¶I doe not bid the thunder bearer shoote,
¶Nor tell tailes of thee to high Iudging Ioue,
¶I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
1525I and my hundred Knights.
¶Nor am prouided for your fit welcome,
¶Is it not well what should you need of more,
¶Should many people vnder two commands
¶Gon. Why might not you my Lord receiue attendãce
¶We could controwle them, if you will come to me,
¶For now I spie a danger, I intreat you,
1545To bring but fiue and twentie, to no more
¶Will I giue place or notice.
¶Lear. I gaue you all.
¶Reg. And in good time you gaue it.
1550But kept a reseruation to be followed
1555When others are more wicked, not being the worst
¶Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twentie,
¶And thou art twice her loue.
¶Gon. Heare me my Lord,
1560What need you fiue and twentie, tenne, or fiue,
¶Haue a commaund to tend you.
¶Regan. What needes one?
¶Allow not nature more then nature needes,
¶Mans life as cheape as beasts, thou art a Lady,
¶If onely to goe warme were gorgeous,
¶Why nature needes not, what thou gorgeous wearest
1570Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need,
¶You heauens giue me that patience, patience I need,
¶You see me here (you Gods) a poore old fellow,
¶As full of greefe as age, wretched in both,
1575Against their Father, foole me not to much,
¶To beare it lamely, touch me with noble anger,
¶O let not womens weapons, water drops
¶Stayne my mans cheekes, no you vnnaturall hags,
¶I will haue such reuenges on you both,
¶What they are yet I know not, but they shalbe
¶The terrors of the earth, you thinke ile weepe,
¶No ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping,
¶Or ere ile weepe, O foole I shall goe mad.
Exeunt Lear, Leister, Kent, and Foole.
¶Cannot be well bestowed.
¶Reg. For his particuler, ile receiue him gladly,
¶But not one follower.
¶Reg. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd.
¶Glo. Alack the night comes on, and the bleak winds
¶The iniuries that they themselues procure,
¶He is attended with a desperate traine,
1610And what they may incense him to, being apt,
¶Duke. Shut vp your doores my Lord, tis a wild night,
Exe{u~}t
1615
Enter Kent and a Gentleman at seuerall doores.
¶Kent. I know you, whers the King?
¶Gent. Contending with the fretfull element,
1620Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
¶Or swell the curled waters boue the maine
1622.1Which the impetuous blasts with eyles rage
¶Catch in their furie, and make nothing of,
¶Striues in his little world of man to outscorne,
¶The too and fro conflicting wind and raine,
.5This night wherin the cub-drawne Beare would couch,
¶The Lyon, and the belly pinched Wolfe
¶Keepe their furre dry, vnbonneted he runnes,
¶And bids what will take all.
¶Kent. But who is with him?
1625His heart strooke iniuries.
¶Kent. Sir I doe know you,
¶And dare vpon the warrant of my Arte,
¶Commend a deare thing to you, there is diuision,
¶Although as yet the face of it be couer'd,
1630With mutuall cunning, twixt Albany and Cornwall
1630.1But true it is, from France there comes a power
.5And are at point to shew their open banner.
¶Now to you, if on my credit you dare build so farre,
¶Some that will thanke you, making iust report
¶Of how vnnaturall and bemadding sorrow
.10The King hath cause to plaine,
¶I am a Gentleman of blood and breeding,
¶Offer this office to you.
¶Gent. I will talke farther with you.
1640Kent. No doe not,
¶For confirmation that I much more
¶Then my outwall, open this purse and take
1645And she will tell you who your fellow is,
¶That yet you doe not know, fie on this storme,
¶I will goe seeke the King.
1650Kent. Few words but to effect more then all yet:
¶That when we haue found the King,
¶Ile this way, you that, he that first lights
On him, hollow the other.
Exeunt.
1655
Enter Lear and Foole.
¶Lear. Blow wind & cracke your cheekes, rage, blow
¶You caterickes, & Hircanios spout til you haue drencht,
¶Thought executing fires, vaunt-currers to
1660Oke-cleauing thunderboults, singe my white head,
¶The thicke Rotunditie of the world, cracke natures
¶Mold, all Germains spill at once that make
¶Ingratefull man.
¶Is better then this raine water out a doore,
¶Heers a night pities nether wise man nor foole.
1670Nor raine, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters,
¶I taske not you you elements with vnkindnes,
¶I neuer gaue you kingdome, cald you children,
¶Ministers, that haue with 2. pernitious daughters ioin'd
¶As this, O tis foule.
¶headpeece, the Codpeece that will house before the head, has
1685haue a corne cry woe, and turne his sleepe to wake, for
¶there was neuer yet faire woman but shee made mouthes in a
1690I will say nothing.
¶a foole.
Things that loue night, loue not such nights as these,
1695The wrathfull Skies gallow, the very wanderer of the
¶Darke, and makes them keepe their caues,
¶Roaring winde, and rayne, I ne're remember
1700To haue heard, mans nature cannot cary
¶The affliction, nor the force.
¶Lear. Let the great Gods that keepe this dreadful
¶Powther ore our heades, find out their enemies now,
¶Tremble thou wretch that hast within thee
1705Vndivulged crimes, vnwhipt of Iustice,
¶Hide thee thou bloudy hand, thou periur'd, and
¶Caytife in peeces shake, that vnder couert
1710Close pent vp guilts, riue your concealed centers,
¶Kent. Alacke bare headed, gracious my Lord, hard by here is
¶the stone whereof tis rais'd, which euen but now demaunding
¶after me, denide me to come in, returne and force their scanted
¶curtesie.
¶Lear. My wit begins to turne,
¶Come on my boy, how dost my boy, art cold?
¶Make vild things precious, come you houell poore,
¶Foole and knaue, I haue one part of my heart
¶That sorrowes yet for thee.
¶Foole. Hee that has a little tine witte, with hey ho the wind
1730and the raine, must make content with his fortunes fit, for the
¶raine, it raineth euery day.
¶Lear. True my good boy, come bring vs to this houell?
¶
Enter Gloster and the Bastard with lights.
¶Glost. Alacke alacke Edmund I like not this,
Vnnaturall dealing when I desir'd their leaue
¶That I might pitty him, they tooke me from me
1760And a worse matter then that, I haue receiued
¶A letter this night, tis dangerous to be spoken,
The King now beares, will be reuenged home
¶Ther's part of a power already landed,
1765Priuily releeue him, goe you and maintaine talke
¶With the Duke, that my charity be not of him
¶Perceiued, if hee aske for me, I am ill, and gon
The King my old master must be releeued, there is
¶Some strãge thing toward, Edmund pray you be careful.
Exit.
¶Then all, then yonger rises when the old doe fall.
Exit.
¶
Enter Lear, Kent, and foole.
¶Kent. Here is the place my Lord, good my Lord enter, the
¶tyrannie of the open nights too ruffe for nature to indure.
¶Lear. Wilt breake my heart?
¶Kent. I had rather breake mine owne, good my Lord enter.
¶But where the greater malady is fixt
1790But if thy flight lay toward the roring sea,
¶Thoud'st meet the beare it'h mouth, whẽ the mind's free
¶The bodies delicate, this tempest in my mind
¶Saue what beates their filiall ingratitude,
1795Is it not as this mouth should teare this hand
¶No I will weepe no more, in such a night as this!
¶O Regan, Gonorill, your old kind father
¶Let me shun that, no more of that.
¶Kent. Good my Lord enter.
1805This tempest will not giue me leaue to ponder
¶On things would hurt me more, but ile goe in,
¶Poore naked wretches, where so ere you are
1810That bide the pelting of this pittiles night,
¶Your loopt and windowed raggednes defend you
¶Too little care of this, take physicke pompe,
¶mee.
¶come forth?
¶hathorne blowes the cold wind, goe to thy cold bed and warme
¶thee.
¶come to this?
¶Edg. Who giues any thing to poore Tom, whome the foule
¶Fiende hath led, through fire, and through foord, and
¶whirli-poole, ore bog and quagmire, that has layd kniues vn-
¶made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse ouer
¶the foule fiend vexes, there could I haue him now, and there, and
¶and there againe.
¶Lear. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre
¶Hang fated ore mens faults, fall on thy daughters.
¶To such a lownes, but his vnkind daughters,
¶Should haue thus little mercy on their flesh,
¶Begot those Pelicane daughters.
¶Foole. This cold night will turne vs all to fooles & madmen.
1860Edg. Take heede at'h foule fiend, obay thy parents, keep thy
1865Edg. A Seruingman, proud in heart and mind, that curld my
¶and did the act of darkenes with her, swore as many oaths as I
1870ued I deeply, dice deerely, and in woman out paromord the
¶Fox in stealth, {W}oolfe in greedines,, Dog in madnes, Lyon
1875betray thy poore heart to women, keepe thy foote out of bro-
¶thell, thy hand out of placket, thy pen from lenders booke,
¶and defie the foule fiend, still through the hathorne blowes the
¶cold wind, hay no on ny, Dolphin my boy, my boy, ceaese
1880let him trot by.
¶with thy vncouered bodie this extremitie of the skies, is man no
¶ odated man, is no more but such a poore bare forked Animall
¶as thou art, off off you lendings, come on
¶Foole. Prithe Nunckle be content, this is a naughty night to
¶swim in, now a little fire in a wild field, were like an old leachers
¶a walking fire.
Enter Gloster.
¶phew, and walks till the first cocke, he giues the web, & the pin,
¶squemes the eye, and makes the hare lip, mildewes the white
¶wheate, and hurts the poore creature of earth, swithald footed
1900thrice the old, he met the night mare and her nine fold bid her, O
¶light and her troth plight and arint thee, witch arint thee.
¶Kent. How fares your Grace?
1905Lear. Whats hee?
¶Glost. What are you there? your names?
¶tod pole, the wall-newt, and the water, that in the furie of his
¶lowes the old ratt, and the ditch dogge, drinkes the greene man-
¶tle of the standing poole, who is whipt from tithing to tithing,
¶to weare.
¶Hath beene Toms foode for seuen long yeare-
¶Beware my follower, peace snulbug, peace thou fiend.
1920Glost. What hath your Grace no better company?
¶Edg. The Prince of darkenes is a Gentleman, modo he's caled
¶and ma hu---
¶doth hate what gets it.
1925Edg. Poore Toms a cold.
¶daughters hard commaunds, though their iniunction be to barre
¶my doores, and let this tyranous night take hold vpon you, yet
1930haue I venter'd to come seeke you out, and bring you where
¶both food and fire is readie.
¶What is the cause of thunder?
¶your studie?
¶Edg. How to preuent the fiend, and to kill vermine.
¶His daughters seeke his death, O that good Kent,
¶Now out-lawed from my bloud, a sought my life
¶But lately, very late, I lou'd him friend
¶No father his sonne deerer, true to tell thee,
1950The greefe hath craz'd my wits,
¶What a nights this? I doe beseech your Grace.
¶Edg. Toms a cold.
1955Glost. In fellow there, in't houell keepe thee warme.
¶Lear. Come lets in all.
¶Kent. This way my Lord.
¶Glost. Take him you on.
¶Kent. Sirah come on, goe along with vs?
¶Lear. Come good Athenian.
¶Edg. Child Rowland, to the darke towne come,
¶His word was still fy fo and fum,
1970
Enter Cornewell and Bastard.
¶way to loyaltie, some thing feares me to thinke of.
¶gent partie to the aduantages of France, O heauens that his trea-
¶son were, or not I the detecter.
¶Corn. Goe with me to the Dutches.
1985Bast. If the matter of this paper be certaine, you haue mighty
¶busines in hand.
¶out where thy father is, that hee may bee readie for our appre-
¶hension.
¶though the conflict be sore betweene that and my bloud.
1995father in my loue.
Exit.
¶
Enter Gloster and Lear, Kent, Foole, and Tom.
¶Glost. Here is better then the open ayre, take it thankfully, I
¶will peece out the comfort with what addition I can, I will not be
2000long from you.
¶Ken. All the power of his wits haue giuen way to impatience,
¶the Gods deserue your kindnes.
¶Edg. Fretereto cals me, and tels me Nero is an angler in the
2005lake of darknes, pray innocent beware the foule fiend.
¶tleman or a Yeoman.
2014.1Edg. The foule fiend bites my backe,
¶ses health, a boyes loue, or a whores oath.
.10Why she dares not come, ouer to thee.
¶Hoppedance cries in Toms belly for two white herring,
¶Croke not blacke Angell, I haue no foode for thee.
¶robbed man of Iustice take thy place, & thou his yokefellow of
.25Lear. She cannot deny it.
¶Armes, armes, sword, fire, corruption in the place,
¶Theile marre my counterfeiting.
2020Lear. The little dogs and all
¶Trey, Blanch, and Sweet hart, see they barke at me.
¶Edg. Tom will throw his head at them, auant you curs,
¶Be thy mouth, or blacke, or white, tooth that poysons if it bite,
¶Bobtaile tike, or trũdletaile, Tom will make them weep & waile,
¶For with throwing thus my head, dogs leape the hatch and all
2030are fled, loudla doodla come march to wakes, and faires, and
¶market townes, poore Tom thy horne is dry.
¶Hart is there any cause in nature that makes this hardnes,
2035You sir, I entertaine you for one of my hundred,
¶They are Persian attire, but let them be chang'd.
2040Kent. Now good my Lord lie here awhile.
Enter Gloster.
¶Glost. Good friend I prithy take him in thy armes,
¶I haue or'e heard a plot of death vpon him,
¶Ther is a Litter ready lay him in't, & driue towards Douer frend,
¶Giue thee quicke conduct.
¶Which if conuenience will not alow stand in hard cure,
¶thinke, our miseries, our foes.
¶Leauing free things and happy showes behind,
¶When griefe hath mates, and bearing fellowship:
¶How light and portable my paine seemes now,
¶When that which makes me bend, makes the King bow.
¶He childed as I fathered, Tom away,
¶In thy iust proofe repeals and reconciles thee,
¶Lurke, lurke.
¶
Enter Cornwall, and Regan, and Gonorill, and Bastard.
¶Gon. Plucke out his eyes.
¶The reuenge we are bound to take vpon your trayterous father,
¶How now whers the King?
Enter Steward.
Stew. My Lord of Gloster hath conueyd him hence,
¶dants are gone with him towards Douer, where they boast to
¶haue well armed friends.
¶Pinion him like a theefe, bring him before vs,
2085Without the forme of Iustice, yet our power
¶Shall doe a curtesie to our wrath, which men may blame
¶But not controule, whose there, the traytor?
¶
Enter Gloster brought in by two or three,
2090Reg. Ingratfull Fox tis hee.
¶You are my gests, doe me no foule play friends.
¶Reg. Hard hard, O filthie traytor!
¶Glost. Vnmercifull Lady as you are, I am true.
¶by the beard.
Reg. So white and such a Traytor.
¶With robbers hands my hospitable fauours
¶You should not ruffell thus, what will you doe.
¶Corn. And what confederacy haue you with the tratours late
¶footed in the kingdome?
¶Which came from one, that's of a neutrall heart,
¶And not from one oppos'd.
¶In hell blacke night indur'd, would haue layd vp
¶And quencht the steeled fires, yet poore old heart,
¶Hee holpt the heauens to rage,
2135If wolues had at thy gate heard that dearne time
¶The winged vengeance ouertake such children.
¶Glost. He that will thinke to liue till he be old
¶Giue me some helpe, O cruell, O ye Gods!
2145Seruant. Hold your hand my Lord
¶Reg. How now you dogge.
¶on this quarrell, what doe you meane?
¶Corn. My villaine.
draw and fight.
¶Seru. Why then come on, and take the chance of anger.
2155
Shee takes a sword and runs at him behind.
¶Where is thy luster now?
¶Edmund vnbridle all the sparks of nature, to quit this horred act.
¶that made the ouerture of thy treasons to vs, who is too good to
¶pittie thee.
¶Glost. O my follies, then Edgar was abus'd,
¶Kind Gods forgiue me that, and prosper him.
¶Douer, how ist my Lord? how looke you?
¶Corn. I haue receiu'd a hurt, follow me Ladie,
¶Turne out that eyles villaine, throw this slaue vpon
2175The dungell Regan, I bleed apace, vntimely
¶Comes this hurt, giue me your arme.
Exit.
2176.1Seruant. Ile neuer care what wickednes I doe,
¶If this man come to good.
¶of death, women will all turne monsters.
.51 Ser. Lets follow the old Earle, and get the bedlom
¶To lead him where he would, his rogish madnes
¶Allows it selfe to any thing.
¶apply to his bleeding face, now heauen helpe him.
Exit.
¶
Enter Edgar.
¶Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemnd,
¶Stands still in experience, liues not in feare,
¶The lamentable change is from the best,
¶The worst returnes to laughter,
¶Who's here, my father poorlie, leed, world, world, O world!
¶But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee,
¶Life would not yeeld to age.
Enter Glost. led by an old man.
¶Old man O my good Lord, I haue beene your tenant, & your
¶fathers tenant this forescore---
2195Glost. Away, get thee away, good friend be gon,
¶Thy comforts can doe me no good at all,
¶Thee they may hurt.
¶Glost. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes,
¶Our meanes secure vs, and our meare defects
¶Proue our comodities, ah deere sonne Edgar,
¶The food of thy abused fathers wrath,
¶Might I but liue to see thee in my tuch,
2205Id'e say I had eyes againe.
¶I am worse then ere I was.
¶Old man. Tis poore mad Tom.
¶Glost. Is it a begger man?
¶Old man. Mad man, and begger to.
¶Which made me thinke a man a worme, my sonne
¶Came then into my mind, and yet my mind
¶As flies are toth' wanton boyes, are we toth' Gods,
¶They bitt vs for their sport.
¶Glost. Is that the naked fellow?
¶Old man. I my Lord.
¶Thou wilt oretake vs here a mile or twaine
2230Ith' way toward Douer, doe it for ancient loue
¶Who Ile intreate to leade me.
¶Doe as I bid thee, or rather doe thy pleasure,
¶Aboue the rest, be gon.
¶Come on't what will.
2240Glost. Sirrah naked fellow.
¶Edg. Poore Toms a cold, I cannot dance it farther.
¶Glost. Come hither fellow.
Poore Tom hath beene scard out of his good wits,
2248.1Fiue fiends haue beene in poore Tom at once,
¶Of lust, as Obidicut, Hobbididence Prince of dumbnes,
¶Mahu of stealing, Modo of murder, Stiberdigebit of
¶Because he does not feele, feele your power quickly,
¶And each man haue enough, dost thou know Douer?
¶Lookes firmely in the confined deepe,
2260Bring me but to the very brimme of it
¶With something rich about me,
¶From that place I shal no leading need.
¶
Enter Gonorill and Bastard.
¶Not met vs on the way, now wher's your maister?
2269.1
Enter Steward.
¶of the army that was landed, he smild at it, I told him you were
¶siue.
¶That dares not vndertake, hele not feele wrongs
¶May proue effects, backe Edgar to my brother,
¶If you dare venture in your owne behalfe
¶Conceaue and far you well.
¶Bast. Yours in the ranks of death.
¶My foote vsurps my body.
2303.1That nature which contemnes it origin
¶Cannot be bordered certaine in it selfe,
.5And come to deadly vse.
¶Tigers, not daughters, what haue you perform'd?
.10A father, and a gracious aged man
¶Whose reuerence euen the head-lugd beare would lick.
¶Could my good brother suffer you to doe it?
¶A man, a Prince, by him so beniflicted,
¶Send quickly downe to tame the vild offences, it will
(come
¶Gon. Milke liuerd man
2305That bearest a cheeke for bloes, a head for wrongs,
¶With plumed helme, thy slayer begin threats
.5Alack why does he so?
¶fiend, so horid as in woman.
¶Gon. O vaine foole!
¶Be-monster not thy feature, wer't my fitnes
¶To let these hands obay my bloud,
¶They are apt enough to dislecate and teare
.5Thy flesh and bones, how ere thou art a fiend,
¶Gon. Marry your manhood now---
¶To his great maister, who thereat inraged
2320Flew on him, and amongst them, feld him dead,
¶Hath pluckt him after.
Gon. One way I like this well,
¶But being widow and my Gloster with her,
¶May all the building on my fancie plucke,
¶Vpon my hatefull life, another way the newes is not so tooke,
¶Ile reade and answer.
Exit.
¶Gent. No my good Lord I met him backe againe.
¶Might haue the freer course.
¶And to reuenge thy eyes, come hither friend,
¶Tell me what more thou knowest.
Exit.
2347.1
Enter Kent and a Gentleman.
¶know you no reason.
.5comming forth is thought of, which imports to the Kingdome,
¶Kent. Who hath he left behind him, General.
¶And now and then an ample teare trild downe
.15Kent. O then it moued her.
.20That playd on her ripe lip seeme not to know,
¶What guests were in her eyes which parted thence,
¶As pearles from diamonds dropt in briefe,
¶Sorow would be a raritie most beloued,
¶If all could so become it.
¶Pantingly forth as if it prest her heart,
¶The holy water from her heauenly eyes,
¶To deale with griefe alone.
.40Who some time in his better tune remembers,
¶That stript her from his benediction turnd her,
.45To forraine casualties gaue her deare rights,
¶Gent. Alack poore Gentleman.
¶Kent. Of Albanies and Cornewals powers you heard not.
¶Will in concealement wrap me vp awhile,
¶When I am knowne aright you shall not greeue,
.55Lending me this acquaintance, I pray you go along with me.
¶Cor. Alack tis he, why he was met euen now,
¶Crownd with ranke femiter and furrow weedes,
¶With hor-docks, hemlocke, netles, cookow flowers,
2355Darnell and all the idle weedes that grow,
¶Search euery acre in the hie growne field,
¶And bring him to our eye, what can mans wisdome
2360Take all my outward worth.
¶Doct. There is meanes Madame.
¶The which he lackes that to prouoke in him,
¶Spring with my teares be aydant and remediat,
¶That wants the meanes to lead it.
Enter messenger.
¶In expectation of them, ô deere father
¶It is thy busines that I go about, therfore great France
¶My mourning and important teares hath pitied,
¶No blowne ambition doth our armes in sight
2380But loue, deere loue, and our ag'd fathers right,
¶Soone may I heare and see him.
Exit.
¶
Enter Regan and Steward.
2390Stew. No Madam.
¶Stew. I know not Lady.
¶It was great ignorance, Glosters eyes being out
2395To let him liue, where he ariues he moues
¶All harts against vs, and now I thinke is gone
¶The wayes are dangerous.
¶Stew. I may not Madame, my Lady charg'd my dutie in this
¶busines.
¶Some thing, I know not what, ile loue thee much,
¶Let me vnseale the letter.
¶Stew. Madam I'de rather---
¶I am sure of that, and at her late being here
¶To noble Edmund, I know you are of her bosome.
¶Stew. I Madam.
¶Therefore I doe aduise you take this note,
¶My Lord is dead, Edmund and I haue talkt,
¶And more conuenient is he for my hand
¶Then for your Ladies, you may gather more
2420If you doe find him, pray you giue him this,
¶And when your mistris heares thus much from you
¶If you doe chance to heare of that blind traytor,
2425Preferment fals on him that cuts him off.
¶What Lady I doe follow.
¶Reg. Fare thee well.
Exit.
2430
Enter Gloster and Edmund.
¶Edg. You do climbe it vp now, looke how we labour?
¶Glost. Me thinks the ground is euen.
¶Glost. No truly.
¶By your eyes anguish.
¶Glost. So may it be indeed,
¶Edg. Y'ar much deceaued, in nothing am I chang'd
¶But in my garments.
¶The crowes and choghes that wing the midway ayre
2450Hangs one that gathers sampire, dreadfull trade,
¶Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head,
¶The fishermen that walke vpon the beach
¶Appeare like mise, and yon tall anchoring barke
¶Diminisht to her cock, her cock a boui
¶That on the vnnumbred idle peeble chaffes
¶Cannot be heard, its so hie ile looke no more,
¶Topple downe headlong.
¶Edg. Giue me your hand, you are now within a foot
¶Of th'extreame verge, for all beneath the Moone
¶Would I not leape vpright.
¶Glost. Let goe my hand,
¶Well worth a poore mans taking, Fairies and Gods
¶Prosper it with thee, goe thou farther off,
¶Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going.
2470Glost. {W}ith all my heart.
¶Glost. O you mightie Gods,
He kneeles.
¶This world I doe renounce, and in your sights
2475Shake patiently my great affliction off,
¶If I could beare it longer and not fall
¶To quarel with your great opposles wils
2480Now fellow fare thee well.
He fals.
¶had he beene where he thought by this had thought beene past,
¶indeed, yet he reuiues, what are you sir?
¶Glost. Away and let me die.
¶So many fadome downe precipitating
2495Ten masts at each, make not the altitude,
¶{W}hich thou hast perpendicularly fell,
¶Thy lifes a miracle, speake yet againe.
¶Glost. But haue I fallen or no l
¶Cannot bee seene or heard, doe but looke vp?
¶Glost. Alack I haue no eyes
¶Is wretchednes depriu'd, that benefit
2505When misery could beguile the tyrants rage
¶And frustrate his proud will.
¶Edg. Giue me your arme?
¶Glost. Too well, too well.
¶Vpon the crowne of the cliffe what thing was that
¶Which parted from you.
¶Glost. A poore vnfortunate bagger.
¶Hornes, welk't and waued like the enridged sea,
¶It was some fiend, therefore thou happy father
¶Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who made their honours
2520Glost. I doe remember now, henceforth ile beare
¶Affliction till it doe crie out it selfe
¶Enough, enough and die that thing you speake of,
¶I tooke it for a man, often would it say
¶The fiend the fiend, he led me to that place
2525Edg. Bare free & patient thoughts, but who comes here
¶
Enter Lear mad.
¶money, that fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper, draw me
¶cheese will do it, ther's my gauntlet, ile proue it on a gyant, bring
¶vp the browne-billes, O well flowne bird in the ayre, hagh, giue
¶the word.?
Edg. Sweet Margerum.
¶Lear. Ha Gonorill, ha Regan, they flattered mee like a dogge,
¶and tould me I had white haires in my beard, ere the black ones
¶was no good diuinitie, when the raine came to wet me once, and
¶the winde to make mee chatter, when the thunder would not
¶peace at my bidding, there I found them, there I smelt them out,
2550goe toe, they are not men of their words, they told mee I was
¶euery thing, tis a lye, I am not argue-proofe.
¶the King?
2555quakes, I pardon that mans life, what was thy cause, adultery?
¶thou shalt not die for adulterie, no the wren goes toot, and the
¶ters got tweene the lawfull sheets, toot luxurie, pell, mell, for I
¶goes toot with a more riotous appetite, down frõ the wast tha're
¶centaures, though women all aboue, but to the girdle doe the
¶fie, fie, fie, pah, pah, Giue mee an ounce of Ciuet, good Apo-
¶thocarie,to sweeten my imagination, ther's money for thee.
¶weare out to naught, do you know me?
¶me, no do thy worst blind Cupid, ile not loue, reade thou that
¶challenge, marke the penning oft.
2585Edg. I would not take this from report, it is, and my heart
¶breakes at it.
Lear. Read. Glost. What! with the case of eyes
¶Lear. O ho, are you there with me, no eyes in your head, nor
¶in a light, yet you see how this world goes.
¶yon simple theefe, harke in thy eare handy, dandy, which is the
¶at a begger.
Glost. I sir.
¶behold the great image of authoritie, a dogge, so bade in office,
¶my bootes, harder, harder, so.
¶Lear. If thou wilt weepe my fortune take my eyes, I knowe
¶aire, we wayl and cry, I will preach to thee marke me.
¶Gost. Alack alack the day.
¶Lear. {W}hen we are borne, we crie that wee are come to this
2630
Enter three Gentlemen.
2635churgion I am cut to the braines.
2639.1dust.
2640Lear. I will die brauely like a bridegroome, what? I will be
¶Iouiall, come, come, I am a King my maisters, know you that.
¶Gent. You are a royall one, and we obey you.
2645with running.
Exit King running.
¶king of in a king: thou hast one daughter who redeemes nature
¶from the generall curse which twaine hath brought her to.
¶Edg. Do you heare ought of a battell toward.
2655Edg. But by your fauour how neers the other army.
¶Standst on the howerly thoughts.
¶Hir army is moued on.
Edg. I thanke you sir.
Exit.
¶Glost. You euer gentle gods take my breath from me,
2665To dye before you please.
Edg. Well, pray you father.
¶Who by the Art of knowne and feeling sorrowes
2670Am pregnant to good pitty, giue me your hand
¶Ile leade you to some biding.
¶Glost. Hartie thankes, the bornet and beniz of heauen to
¶saue thee.
Enter Steward.
2680stroy thee.
¶traytor, hence least the infection of his fortune take like hold on
¶thee, let goe his arme?
¶and chud haue beene swaggar'd out of my life, it would not haue
¶beene so long by a fortnight, nay come not neare the old man,
keepe out, cheuore ye, or ile trie whether your coster or my bat-
¶tero be the harder, ile be plaine with you.
¶Stew. Out dunghill.
they fight.
2700If euer thou wilt thriue, burie my bodie,
¶And giue the letters which thou find'st about me
¶The British partie, ô vntimely death! death.
He dies.
¶Glost. What is he dead?
¶Let vs see, leaue gentle waxe, and manners blame vs not
¶To know our enemies minds wee'd rip their hearts,
¶Their papers is more lawfull.
¶_Let your reciprocall vowes bee remembred, you haue many
¶opportunities to cut him off, if your will want not, time and place
¶will be fruitfully offered, there is nothing done, If he returne the
¶conquerour, then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gayle, from
2720the lothed warmth whereof deliuer me, and supply the place for
¶and for you her owne for Venter, Gonorill.
2725A plot vpon her vertuous husbands life,
¶And the exchange my brother heere in the sands,
¶Of murtherous leachers, and in the mature time,
2730Of the death practis'd Duke, for him tis well,
¶That I stand vp and haue ingenious feeling
¶So should my thoughts be fenced from my griefes,
¶And woes by wrong imaginations loose
¶The knowledge of themselues.
A drum a farre off.
¶Come father ile bestow you with a friend.
Exit.
¶
Enter Cordelia, Kent and Doctor.
2750Kent. To be acknowlegd madame is ore payd,
¶All my reports go with the modest truth,
¶Nor more, nor clipt, but so.
Worser howers, I prithe put them off.
¶Kent. Pardon me deere madame,
¶Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent,
¶My boone I make it that you know me not,
¶Till time and I thinke meete.
2765The vntund and hurrying sences, O wind vp
¶Of this child changed father.
¶He hath slept long.
¶Cord. Be gouernd by your knowledge and proceed,
2770Ith sway of your owne will is he arayd,
¶We put fresh garments on him,
¶Gent. Good madam be by, when we do awake him
2775I doubt not of his temperance.
2775.1Cord. Very well.
¶Haue in thy reuerence made.
¶Had challengd pitie of them, was this a face
¶With this thin helme mine iniurious dogge,
¶To houill thee with swine and rogues forlorne,
¶Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
2790Had not concluded all, he wakes speake to him.
¶Lear. You do me wrong to take me out ath graue,
¶Vpon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares
¶Do scald like molten lead.
¶Cord. Sir know me.
¶Lear. Where haue I bene, where am I faire day light,
¶Lear. Pray doe not mocke,
¶I am a very foolish fond old man,
2815Fourescore and vpward, and to deale plainly
¶I feare I am not in my perfect mind,
¶Mee thinks I should know you, and know this man;
2820Yet I am doubtfull, for I am mainly ignorant
¶What place this is, and all the skill I haue
¶Remembers not these garments, nor I know not
¶Where I did lodge last night, doe not laugh at me,
¶For as I am a man, I thinke this Ladie
2825To be my child Cordelia.
Cord. And so I am.
¶Lear. Be your teares wet, yes faith, I pray weep not,
¶If you haue poyson for mee I will drinke it,
¶Haue as I doe remember, done me wrong,
¶cured in him, and yet it is danger to make him euen ore the time
ther setling:
Cord. Wilt please your highnes walke?
¶I am old and foolish.
Exeunt.
Manet Kent and Gent.
¶Gent. Who is conductor of his people?
¶Kent in Germanie.
¶Kent. Report is changeable, tis time to looke about,
¶The powers of the kingdome approach apace.
.10Kent. My poynt and period will be throughly wrought,
¶Or well, or ill, as this dayes battels fought.
Exit.
2845
Enter Edmund, Regan, and their powers.
¶Or whether since he is aduis'd by ought
¶To change the course, he's full of abdication
¶Bast. Tis to be doubted Madam,
¶You know the goodnes I intend vpon you,
2855Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth,
Bast. I, honor'd loue.
¶Reg. But haue you neuer found my brothers way,
¶To the forfended place?
Bast. That thought abuses you.
¶som'd with hir, as far as we call hirs.
2860Bast. No by mine honour Madam.
¶
Enter Albany and Gonorill with troupes.
¶loosen him nd mee.
For this I heare the King is come to his daughter
¶With others, whome the rigour of our state
2868.1I neuer yet was valiant, for this busines
¶It touches vs, as France inuades our land
¶Not bolds the King, with others whome I feare,
¶Are not to question here.
¶Alb. Let vs then determine with the auntient of warre on our
¶proceedings.
Bast. I shall attend you presently at your tent.
¶Heare me one word.
Exeunt.
¶Edg. Before you fight the battell ope this letter,
2885If you haue victory let the trumpet sound
¶For him that brought it, wretched though I seeme,
¶I can produce a champion that will proue
¶What is auowched there, if you miscary,
2890Fortune loue you,
Alb. Stay till I haue read the letter.
¶cry, and ile appeare againe.
Exit.
2895Alb. Why fare thee well, I will ore-looke the paper.
¶
Enter E dmund.
¶Bast. The enemies in vew, draw vp your powers
¶Each iealous of the other as the sting are of the Adder,
¶If both remaine aliue, to take the widdow
2910His countenadce for the battaile, which being done
¶Let her that would be rid of him deuise
¶His speedie taking off, as for his mercy
¶Which he entends to Lear and to Cordelia:
¶The battaile done, and they within our power
¶Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
Exit.
¶For your good hoast, pray that the right may thriue
¶If euer I returne to you againe ile bring you comfort.
Exit.
¶Edg. Away old man, giue me thy hand, away,
¶King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter taine,
2930Giue me thy hand, come on.
¶Their going hence, euen as their coming hither,
2935Ripenes is all come on.
¶
Enter Edmund, with Lear and Cordelia prisoners.
2940Bast, Some officers take them away, good guard
¶That are to censure them.
¶We two alone will sing like birds it'h cage,
¶And pray, and sing, and tell old tales and laugh
¶At guilded butterflies, and heare poore rogues
¶Talke of Court newes, and weele talke with them to,
¶And take vpon's the mistery of things
¶As if we were Gods spies, and weele weare out
¶That ebbe and flow bith' Moone.
2960Bast. Take them away.
¶He that parts vs shall bring a brand from heauen,
2965And fire vs hence like Foxes, wipe thine eyes,
¶The good shall deuoure em, fleach and fell
¶Bast. Come hither Captaine, harke.
2970Take thou this note, goe follow them to prison,
¶To noble fortunes, know thou this that men
¶Are as the time is, to be tender minded
2975Does not become a sword, thy great imployment
¶Or thriue by other meanes.
¶Cap. Ile do't my Lord.
¶As I haue set it downe.
2981.1Cap. I cannot draw a cart, nor eate dride oats,
¶If it bee mans worke ile do't.
¶
Enter Duke, the two Ladies, and others.
¶And Fortune led you well you haue the captiues
¶May equally determine.
¶Bast. Sir I thought it fit,
¶And turne our imprest launces in our eyes
¶Which doe commaund them, with him I sent the queen
¶The question of Cordelia and her father
¶Requires a fitter place.
¶Alb. Sir by your patience,
¶I hold you but a subiect of this warre, not as a brother.
3005The which imediate may well stand vp,
¶And call it selfe your brother.
¶more then in your aduancement.
¶From a full flowing stomack, Generall
3020Witnes the world that I create thee here
¶My Lord and maister.
¶Gon. Meane you to inioy him then?
¶Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will.
¶Bast. Nor in thine Lord.
3025Alb. Halfe blouded fellow, yes.
¶On capitall treason, and in thine attaint,
3030I bare it in the interest of my wife.
¶And I her husband contradict the banes,
¶If you will mary, make your loue to me,
¶If none appeare to proue vpon thy head,
3040There is my pledge, ile proue it on thy heart
¶Then I haue here proclaimd thee.
3045Bast. Ther's my exchange, what in the world he is,
¶That names me traytor, villain-like he lies,
¶Call by thy trumpet, he that dares approach,
¶On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine
¶My truth and honour firmely.
¶All leuied in my name, haue in my name tooke their
(discharge.
¶Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my tent,
¶Come hether Herald, let the trumpet sound,
¶And read out this.
Cap. Sound trumpet?
¶that he's a manifold traitour, let him appeare at the third sound
¶of the trumpet, he is bold in his defence.
¶Bast. Sound? Againe?
¶
Enter Edgar at the third sound, a trumpet before him.
¶Vpon this call oth' trumpet.
3070Her. What are you? your name and qualitie?
¶Bare-gnawne and canker-bitte; yet are I mou't
3075Where is the aduersarie I come to cope with all.
¶That if my speech offend a noble hart, thy arme
¶May do thee Iustice, here is mine.
¶Behold it is the priuiledge of my tongue,
¶Maugure thy strength, youth, place and eminence,
¶Thy valor and thy heart thou art a traytor.
¶False to thy Gods thy brother and thy Father,
¶And from the'xtreamest vpward of thy head,
As bent to proue vpon thy heart whereto I speake thou liest,
¶With the hell hatedly, oreturnd thy heart,
¶it, thou worse then any thing, reade thine owne euill, nay no
3115tearing Lady, I perceiue you know't.
¶Bast. What you haue chargd me with, that haue I don
¶And more, much more, the time will bring it out.
¶I do forgiue thee.
¶Edg. Let's exchange charity,
¶If more, the more thou hast wrongd me.
3130My name is Edgar, and thy fathers sonne,
¶Place where thee he gotte, cost him his eies.
¶full circled I am heere.
¶Alb. Me thought thy very gate did prophecie,
¶Edg. Worthy Prince I know't.
¶How haue you knowne the miseries of your father?
3145List a briefe tale, and when tis told
3145.1O that my heart would burst the bloudy proclamation
¶O our liues sweetnes, that with the paine of death,
¶Would hourly die, rather then die at once.
¶Taught me to shift into a mad-mans rags
¶And in this habit met I my father with his bleeding rings,
3155Neuer (O Father) reueald my selfe vnto him,
¶Told him my pilgrimage, but his flawd heart,
3160Alacke too weake, the conflict to support,
¶Alb. If there be more, more wofull, hold it in,
¶As loue not sorow, but another to amplifie too much,
¶Would make much more, and top extreamitie
¶Whil'st I was big in clamor, came there in a man,
¶Shund my abhord society, but then finding
¶He fastened on my necke and bellowed out,
¶As hee'd burst heauen, threw me on my father,
.10Told the most pitious tale of Lear and him,
¶That euer eare receiued, which in recounting
¶Began to cracke twice, then the trumpets sounded.
¶And there I left him traunst.
.15Alb. But who was this.
¶Followed his enemie king and did him seruice
¶Improper for a slaue.
¶
Enter one with a bloudie knife,
3170Gent. Helpe, helpe,
¶Bast. I was contracted to them both, all three
3180Now marie in an instant.
¶Alb. Produce their bodies, be they aliue or dead,
3185This Iustice of the heauens that makes vs tremble,
¶Touches vs not with pity.
Edg. Here comes Kent sir.
The complement that very manners vrges.
¶Is he not here?
¶Duke. Great thing of vs forgot,
¶Speake Edmund, whers the king, and whers Cordelia
¶Seest thou this obiect Kent.
The bodies of Gonorill and
Regan are brought in.
3195Kent. Alack why thus.
¶Bast. Yet Edmund was beloued,
Duke. Euen so, couer their faces.
¶Be briefe, int toth' castle for my writ,
¶Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia,
¶Nay send in time.
Duke. Runne, runne, O runne.
¶Thy token of repreeue.
¶Giue it the Captaine?
Duke. Hast thee for thy life.
¶To hang Cordelia in the prison, and to lay
¶The blame vpon her owne despaire,
3215Duke. The Gods defend her, beare him hence a while.
¶
Enter Lear with Cordelia in his armes.
3220I know when one is dead and when one liues,
¶Why then she liues.
3225Kent. Is this the promist end.
¶It is a chance which do's redeeme all sorowes
¶That euer I haue felt.
Kent. A my good maister.
¶Lear. A plague vpon your murderous traytors all,
3235Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little, ha,
¶Gentle and low, an excellent thing in women,
¶I kild the slaue that was a hanging thee.
¶Cap. Tis true my Lords, he did.
¶With my good biting Fauchon I would
¶Haue made them skippe, I am old now,
¶One of them we behold.
Lear. Are not you Kent?
¶Lear. Hees a good fellow, I can tell that,
¶Heele strike and quickly too, hees dead and rotten.
¶Kent. No my good Lord, I am the very man.
¶Kent. That from your life of difference and decay,
Lear. You'r welcome hither.
3260And desperatly are dead.
Lear. So thinke I to.
¶That we present vs to him.
Edg. Very bootlesse.
Enter
Captaine.
¶Capt. Edmund is dead my Lord.
¶Duke. Thats but a trifle heere, you Lords and noble friends,
¶Know our intent, what comfort to this decay may come, shall be
¶to him our absolute power, you to your rights with boote, and
¶such addition as your honor haue more then merited, all friends
¶dog, a horse, a rat of life and thou no breath at all, O thou wilt
¶come no more, neuer, neuer, neuer, pray you vndo this button,
¶thanke you sir, O, o, o, o.
_Edg. He faints my Lord, my Lord.
¶He hates him that would vpon the wracke,
¶Of this tough world stretch him out longer.
3290Edg. O he is gone indeed.
¶He but vsurpt his life.
¶Is to generall woe, friends of my soule, you twaine
¶Speake what we feele, not what we ought to say,
FINIS.
