King Lear (Quarto 2, 1619)
Not Peer Reviewed
M. {W}illiam [Shake]-speare,
HIS
True Chronicle History 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 Glocester, and
his sullen and assumed humour of TOM
of Bedlam.
As it was plaid before the Kings Maiesty at White-Hall, vp-
pon S. Stephens night, in Christmas Hollidaies.
By his Maiesties Seruants, playing vsually at the
Globe on the Banck-side.
Printed for Nathaniel Butter.
1608.
M. {W}illiam Shake-speare
HIS
History, of King Lear.
¶
Enter Kent, Glocester, and Bastard.
¶
Kent.
¶I Thought the King had more affected the Duke of
5Albeney then Cornewall.
¶the diuision of the Kingdomes, it appeares not
¶which of the Dukes he values most, for equalities
10thers moytie.
¶ten blusht to acknowledge him, that now I am braz'd to it.
15Kent. I cannot conceiue you.
dle, ere she had a husband for her bed, do you smell a fault?
¶proper.
¶then this, who yet is no deerer in my account, thogh this knaue
25yet was his mother faire, there was good sport at his making, &
¶gentleman, Edmund?
¶Bast. No my Lord.
30Glo. My Lord of Kent, remember him heereafter as my ho-
¶nourable friend.
¶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 younger yeares,
50The two great Princes, France and Burgundy,
¶Great Riuals in our youngest daughters loue,
¶Long in our Court haue made their amorous soiourne,
¶And here are to be answer'd; tell me my daughters,
¶That we our largest bounty may extend,
¶Where merit doth most challenge it:
60Gon. Sir, I do loue you more then words can wield the matter.
¶Beyond what can be valued rich or rare,
¶As much a childe ere loued, or father friend,
65A loue that makes breath poore, and speech vnabl[e],
¶Beyond all manner of so much I loue you.
75And prize me at her worth in my true heart,
¶My loue's more richer then my tongue.
85Lear. To thee and thine hereditary 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
¶Cor. Nothing my Lord.
¶Cor. Vnhappy that I am, I cannot heaue my heart into my
¶mouth, I loue your Maiesty according to my bond, nor more
¶Least it may marre 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?
¶Cor. I good my Lord.
¶Cor. So young my Lord, and true.
¶For by the sacred radience of the Sunne,
¶By all the operation of the Orbes,
120Heere I dissclaime all my paternall care,
¶Propinquity and property of bloud,
¶And as a stranger to my heart and me,
¶Hold thee from this foreuer, the barbarous Scythian,
¶Or he that makes his generation
¶Shall be as well neighbour'd, pittied and releeued,
¶As thou my some-time daughter.
¶Kent. Good my Liege.
¶So be my graue my peace as heere I guie,
¶Her fathers heart from her; call France, who stirres?
135Call Burgundy, Cornwall, and Albany,
¶With my two daughters dower digest this third,
¶I do inuest you ioyntly in my power,
¶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 Master followed,
¶As my great Patron thought on in my praiers.
¶Kent. Let it fall rather,
¶Though the forke inuade the region of my heart,
155Be Kent vnmannerly, when Lear is mad,
¶What wilt thou do old man, think'st thou that duty
¶Shall haue dread to speake, when power to flattery bowes,
165Lear. Kent, on thy life no more.
¶Kent. My life I neuer held but as a pawne
¶Thy safety being the motiue.
¶The true blanke of thine eie.
¶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 alleigeance heare me;
¶To come betweene our sentence and our power,
185Which, nor our nature, nor our place can beare,
¶Our potency make good, take thy reward,
¶Foure dayes we do allot thee for prouision,
¶And on the fift to turne thy hated backe
190Vpon our kingdome; if on the tenth day following,
¶Thy banisht trunke be found in our Dominions,
¶The moment is thy death, away,
By Iupiter, this shall not be reuokt.
¶The Gods to their protecction take the maid,
¶And your large speeches may your deeds approue,
¶That good effects may spring from words of loue:
200Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adew,
¶
Enter France and Burgundy with Glocester.
¶Glo. Heer's France and Burgundy, my noble Lord.
¶Who with a King hath riuald for our daughter,
215We did hold her so, but now her price is fallen;
¶And nothing else may fitly like your Grace,
¶Shee's 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 whom Nature is asham'd
¶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 plaint in me.
¶If for I want that glib and oily Art,
¶Ile do't before I speake, that you may know
¶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.
260My Lord of Burgundy, what say you to the Lady?
¶Aloofe from the entire point, will you haue her?
¶She is her selfe and dower.
265Burg. Royall Lear, giue but that portion
¶Which your selfe propos'd, and here I take
¶Of fortune are his loue, I shall not be his wife.
¶Thee and thy vertues heere I seize vpon,
¶Be it lawfull I take vp what's cast away.
¶Is Queene of vs, of ours, and our faire France:
¶Not all the Dukes in watrish Burgundy,
¶Shall buy this vnpriz'd precious maid of me,
285Bid them farwell Cordelia, though vnkinde
¶That face of hers againe, therefore be gone,
¶
Exit Lear and Burgundy.
¶Cord. The Iewels of our Father,
¶With washt eyes Cordelia leaues you, I know you what you are,
¶As they are named, vse well our Father,
¶I would preferre him to a better place;
300So farwell to you both.
¶Who hath receiu'd 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.
315we haue made of it hath not beene little; he alwaies loued our
¶derly knowne himselfe.
¶fection of long ingrafted condition, but therwithal vnruly wai-
¶wardnes, that infirme and cholericke yeares bring with them.
¶this of Kents banishment.
¶Gono. There is further complement of leaue taking between
¶France and him, pray lets hit together, if our Father cary autho-
330his will but offend vs.
¶
Enter Bastard solus.
¶and permit the curiosity of Nations to depriue me, for that I am
340wherefore base, when my dementions are as well compact, my
¶doth within a stale dull lie[d] bed, goe to the creating of a whole
¶tribe of fops got tweene sleepe and wake; well the legitimate
¶Edmund, as to the legitimate: well my legitimate. if this letter
¶
Enter Glocester.
360hibition, all this done vpon the gad; Edmund, how now, what
¶newes?
¶Bast. I know no newes, my Lord.
365Glo. What paper were you reading?
¶Bast. Nothing my Lord.
¶your pocket, the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide
¶I finde it not fit for your liking.
¶as in part I vnderstand them, are too blame.
A Letter.
¶not relish them, I begin to finde an idle and fond bondage in
¶enioy halfe his reuenew for euer, and liue the beloued of your
¶brother Edgar.
¶his reuenew: my sonne Edgar, had he 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, there's the cunning
¶Glost. You know the carracter to be your brothers?
¶were his, but in respect of that, I would faine think it were not.
¶Glost. Is it his?
¶Bast. It is his hand my Lord, but I hope his heart is not in
¶the contents.
nessse?
405Bast. Neuer my Lord, but I haue often heard him maintaine
¶it to be fit, that sonnes at parfit age, and fathers declining, his
¶the reuenew.
¶laine, where is he?
¶honour, and shake in peeces the heart of his obedience, I dare
¶pawne downe my life for him, hee hath wrote this to feele my
420affection to your Honour, and to no further pretence of danger.
¶Bast. If your Honour iudge it meete, I will place you where
425haue your satisfaction, and that without any further delay then
¶this very euening.
¶heauen and earth! Edmund seeke him out, winde me into him, I
¶betweene sonne and father; finde out this villaine, Edmund it
¶Bast. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we
¶ence of planitary influence, and all that we are euill in, by a di-
¶compounded with my Mother vnder the Dragons taile, & my
¶
Enter Edgar.
¶& out he comes like the Catastrophe of the old Comedy, mine
¶is villanous melancholy, with a sigh like them of Bedlam; O
¶tion are you in?
¶Bast. I am thinking brother of a prediction I read this other
¶breaches, and I know not what.
475Edg. Why the night gone by.
¶Bast. Spake you with him?
¶Edg. Two houres together.
¶in him by word or countenance?
480Edg. None at all.
¶Edg. Some villaine hath done me wrong.
495ly, nothing like the image and horror of it; pray you away.
¶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 a Gentleman.
¶foole?
¶Gent. Yes Madam.
510Gon. By day and night he wrongs me,
¶That sets vs all at ods, Ile not endure it;
¶His knights grow riotous, and himselfe vpbraids vs
¶On euery trifle when he returnes from hunting,
¶Gent. Hee's comming Madam, I heare him.
522.1not to be ouer-rulde; idle olde man that still would manage
¶those authorities that he hath giuen away, now by my life olde
¶teries, when they are seene abus'd, remember what I tell you.
¶Gent. Very well, Madam.
525Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among you,
¶what growes of it no matter, aduise your fellowes so, I would
¶for dinner.
Exit.
530
Enter Kent.
¶
Enter Lear.
540now, what art thou?
¶Lear. What art thou?
¶art poore enough, what wouldst thou?
¶I would faine call Master.
565ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified, and the best of me, is
¶diligence.
¶Lear. How old art thou?
¶dote on her for any thing, I haue yeares on my backe forty eight.
¶after dinner, I will not part from thee yet; dinner ho, dinner,
¶where's my knaue my foole, goe you and call my foole hether,
¶you sirra, where's my daughter?
575
Enter Steward.
¶where's my foole? ho, I thinke the world's asleepe, how now,
¶where's that mungrell?
585would not.
Lear. He would not?
¶Seruant. My Lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my
¶nious affection as you were wont, there's a great abatement ap-
¶peares as well in the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe
590also, and your daughter.
595wrong'd.
¶haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late, which I haue rather
¶blamed as mine owne iealous curiosity, then as a very pretence
¶and purport of vnkindnes; I will look further into it, but wher's
600this foole? I haue not seene him this two daies.
¶foole hath much pined away.
¶Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it, goe you and tell my
605daughter, I would speake with her, go you call hither my foole;
¶Stew. My Ladies Father.
620will measure your lubbers length againe, tarry, but away, you
¶haue wisedome.
¶thy seruice.
¶
Enter Foole.
625Foole. Let me hire him too, here's my coxcombe.
¶Kent. Why Foole?
¶Foole. Why for taking ones part that's out of fauour, nay and
¶there take my coxcombe; why this fellow hath banisht two of
¶thou follow him, thou must needs weare my coxcombe, how
¶now nunckle, would I had two coxcombes, and two daughters.
¶Lear. Why my boy?
¶Foole. If I gaue them any liuing, ide keepe my coxcombe my
¶selfe, theres mine, beg another of thy daughters.
¶throwest, leaue thy drinke and thy whore, and keepe in a doore,
¶Lear. This is nothing foole.
¶Foole. Then like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer, you gaue me
660nothing for it; can you make no vse of nothing Vncle?
¶Lear. Why no boy, nothing can be made out of nothing.
665he will not beleeue a foole.
¶Lear. A bitter foole.
¶ter foole, and a sweete foole.
¶Lear. No lad, teach me.
¶Come place him heere by me, do thou for him stand,
¶The one in motley here, the other found out there.
¶borne with.
¶Kent. This is not altogether foole my Lord.
¶Foole. No faith, Lords and great men will not let me, if I had
.10a monopolie out, they would haue part on't, and lodes too, they
670me an egge Nunckle, 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 thy
¶They know not how their wits do weare,
¶downe thine owne breeches, then they for sudden ioy did weep,
¶master that can teach thy foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie.
¶Lear. If you lie, wee'l 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
¶ther be any kinde of thing then a foole, and yet I would not bee
700thing in the middle; heere comes one of the parings.
¶
Enter Gonorill.
¶Lear. How now daughter, what makes that Frontlet on,
¶Me-thinkes you are too much alate it'h frowne.
¶care for her frowne, thou, thou art an O without a figure, I am
¶better then thou art now, I am a foole, thou art nothing, yes for-
¶say nothing.
710Mum, mum, he that keepes neither crust nor crum,
¶your insolent retinue do hourely carpe and quarrell, breaking
¶foorth in ranke and (not to be endured riots) Sir, I had thought
¶weal, might in their working do you that offence, that else were
¶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 me? why this is not Lear; doth
¶daughters.
¶Foole. Which they, will make an obedient Father.
745Le. Your name faire gentlewoman?
¶more like a Tauerne or Brothell, then a great Pallace, the shame
¶together, degenerate bastard, ile not trouble thee; yet haue I left
765a daughter.
¶seruants of their betters.
¶
Enter Duke.
¶that like an engine wrencht my frame of nature from the fixt
¶place, drew from my heart all loue, & added to the gall; ô Lear,
¶Lear beate at this gate that let thy folly in, and thy deare iudg-
785ment out, goe, goe, my people?
¶ture fruitefull, into her wombe conuey sterility, dry vp in her the
¶that it may liue and be a thourt disuetur'd torment to her, let it
¶stampe wrinckles in her brow of youth, with accent teares, fret
¶channels in her cheek[e]s, turne all her mothers paines and bene-
802.1my people?
¶Duke. Now Gods that we adore, whereof comes this!
810Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap, within a fortnight?
¶plucke you out, and you can cast with the waters that you make to
¶temper clay, yea, is it come to this? yet haue I left a daughter,
Exit.
830Gon. Do you marke that my Lord?
¶you.
¶master.
835Foole. Nuncle Lear, Nuncle Lear, tarry and take the foole with
¶lowes after.
848.1Oswald. Heere Madam.
¶Osw. Yes Madam.
¶owne, as may compact it more, get you gone, and after your re-
¶Duke. How farre your eies may pierce I cannot tell,
870Striuing to better ought, we marre what's well.
¶Gon. Nay then -------
¶
Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.
¶my daughter no further with any thing you know, then comes
¶die, I shall be there before you.
¶9603+36ter.
Exit.
¶Foole. If a mans braines were in his heeles, wert not in danger
¶of kybes?
Lear. I boy.
¶Lear. Ha, ha, ha.
¶though she is as like this, as a crabbe is like an apple, yet I con,
890what I can tell.
895Lear. No.
¶Lear. I did her wrong!
900Lear. No.
¶Lear. Why?
¶Foole. Why to put his head in, not to giue it away vnto his
905daughter, and leaue his hornes without a case.
¶ready?
¶Foole. If thou wert my foole Nunckle, Ide haue thee beaten
¶for being olde before thy time.
915Lear. How's that?
¶beene wise.
¶mad, keepe me in temper, I would not bee mad; are the Horses
920ready?
¶Seruant. Ready my Lord.
¶Foole. She that is a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
¶Shall not be maid long, except things be cut shorter.
925
Exit.
¶
Enter Bastard, and Curan meetes him.
¶Bast. Saue thee Curan.
¶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?
¶
Exit.
¶
Enter Edgar.
¶gence is giuen where you are hid, you haue now the good ad-
¶Cornwall ought, hee's coming hether now in the night , it'h haste,
¶gainst the Duke of Albaney, aduise your --------
¶Bastard. I heare my father comming, pardon me in crauing, I
¶quit you well, yeeld, come before my father, light heere heere,
¶on me would beget opinion of my more fierce endeuor, I haue
¶stop, no helpe?
970
Enter Glocester.
¶Glost. Now Edmund, where's the villaine?
¶cious Mistris.
975Glost. But where is he?
¶Glost. Where is the villaine, Edmund?
¶I tolde him the reuengiue Gods, gainst Paracides did all their
990bold in the quarrels right, rouzd to the encounter, or whether
¶worthy Arch and Patron comes to night, by his authority I will
¶bringing the murderous caytiffe to the stake, he that conceales
1000him, death.
¶worth in thee make thy words faith'd? no: what I should deny,
¶as this I would, I, thogh thou didst produce my very character,
¶thou must make a dullard of the world, if they not thought the
¶profits of my death were very pregnant and potentiall spurres to
¶make thee seeke it.
¶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
1020that all the kingdome may haue note of him, and of my land,
¶(loyall and naturall boy) ile worke the meanes to make thee ca-
¶pable.
¶
Enter the Duke of Cornwall.
¶I can call but now, I haue heard strange newes.
¶Glost. Madam, my old heart is crakt, is crakt.
¶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,
¶Beene well inform'd of them, and with such cautions,
1045shewne your father a child-like office.
¶Glost. I my good Lord.
1060Glost. For him I thanke your Grace.
¶Of defences, which I best thought it fit,
¶From hence attend dispatch, our good old friend,
1070.1
Exit.
1075
Enter Kent, and Steward.
¶Kent. I.
¶Kent. In the mire.
1080Stew. Prethee if thou loue me, tell me.
¶Kent. I loue thee not.
¶Stew. Why then I care not for thee.
¶Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care
¶_for me.
¶Kent. Fellow I know thee.
¶art nothing but the composition of a knaue, begger, coward,
1095pander, and the sonne and heire of a mungrell bitch, whom I will
¶the addition.
¶that's neither knowne of thee, nor knowes thee.
¶heeles before the King? draw you rogue, for though it be night
you whoreson cullyonly barber-munger, draw.
¶Stew. Away, I haue nothing to do with thee.
¶take Vanity the puppets part, against the royalty of her father,
¶call, come your wayes.
¶Stew. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.
1115strike.
¶Stew. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.
¶
Enter Edmund with his Rapier drawne, Glocester, the
Duke and Dutchesse.
¶Bast. How now, what's the matter?
1120you, come on yong master.
¶Glost. Weapons, armes, what's the matter here?
¶what's the matter?
¶haue made him so ill, though he had bene but two houres at the
trade.
¶Glost. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?
¶of his gray-beard.
¶if you will giue me leaue, I will tread this vnboulted villaine in-
¶to morter, and daube the wals of a Iaques with him; spare my
1140gray-beard you wagtaile?
¶Duke. Why are 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 vary of their masters,
¶Knowing nought like daies but following,
¶A plague vpon your Epilipticke visage,
1155Smoile you my speeches, as I were a foole?
¶Goose, if I had you vpon Sarum Plaine,
¶Ide send you cackling home to Camulet.
¶Duke. What art thou mad olde fellow?
1160Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
¶Then I and such a knaue.
¶Kent. His countenance likes me not.
1165Duke. No more perchance doth 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.
¶And constraines the garb quite from his nature,
¶He cannot flatter he, he must be plaine,
1175If not hee's plaine, these kinde of knaues I know,
¶And more corrupter ends, then twenty silly ducking,
¶Vnder the allowance of your grand aspect.
¶Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire
¶In flitkering Phœbus 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 wil not be, thogh
1190Duke. What's the offence you gaue him?
1195Tript me behinde, being downe, insulted, raild,
¶And put vpon his such a deale of man, that
¶That worthied him, got praises of the King,
¶And in the flechuent of this dread exploit,
1200Drew on me heere againe.
1205Wee'l teach you.
¶Reg. Till noone, till night my Lord, and all night too.
1215Kent. Why Madam, if I were your fathers dog you could not
¶Reg. Sir, being his knaue, I will.
¶His fault is much, and the good King his Master
1221.1Will checke him for't; your purposd low correction
1226.1For following her affaires, put in his legs,
¶Come my Lord, away.
Exit.
1230Will not be rubd nor stopt, Ile intreate for thee.
¶A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles,
¶Giue you good morrow.
1235Glost. The Duke's too blame in this, twill be ill tooke.
¶
Exit.
¶Thou out of heauens benediction comest
¶To the warme Sunne.
1240Approach thou beacon to this vnder-globe,
¶That by thy comfortable beames I may
¶But misery, I know tis from Cordelia,
¶Who hath most fortunately bene informed
¶Take vantage heauy eies not to behold
¶This shamefull lodging; Fortune goodnight,
1250Smile, once more turne thy wheele.
He sleepes.
¶
Enter Edgar.
¶And by the happy hollow of a Tree,
¶Escapt the hunt, no Port is free, no place
¶That euer penury in contempt of man,
1260Brought neere to beast; my face ile grime with filth,
¶Blanket my loines, else all my haire with knots,
¶And with presented nakednes out-face
¶The winde, and persecution of the skie,
¶The Country giues me proofe and president
1265Of Bedlam beggers, who with roring voices,
¶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 praiers
¶Enforce their charity, poore Turlygod, poore Tom,
¶That's something yet, Edgar I nothing am.
Exit.
¶
Enter King, and a Knight.
¶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, dogs and beares
¶By the necke, munkies by the loines, and men
¶By the legs, when a man's ouer-lusty at legs,
1285[T]hen he weares wooden neather-stockes.
¶thee here?
¶Lear. No.
¶Kent. Yes.
1294.1Lear. No, no, they would not.
¶Kent. Yes they haue.
¶They would not, could not do it, tis worse then murder,
¶Comming from vs.
¶Kent. My Lord, when at their home
¶My duty kneeling, came there a reeking Poste,
¶Commanded me to follow, and attend the leisure
¶Of their answer, 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
¶a great wheele runs downe a hill, least it breake thy necke with
1345following it, but the great one that goes vp the hil, let him draw
¶mine againe, I would haue none but knaues follow it, since a
¶foole giues it.
1350
That Sir that serues for gaine,
¶And followes but for forme;
¶Will packe when it begins to raine,
¶And leaue thee in the storme.
¶But I will tarry, the foole will stay,
1355And let the wise man flie:
¶The knaue turnes foole that runnes away,
¶The foole no knaue perdy.
¶Kent. Where learnt you this foole?
1360
Enter Lear and Glocester.
¶They traueld hard to night, meare Iustice,
¶I the images of reuolt and flying off,
1365Fetch me a better answer.
¶Glost. My deare Lord, you know the fiery quality of the Duke,
¶how vnremoueable and fixt he is in his owne course.
¶wall, and his wife.
1375Glost. I my good Lord.
1380Fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that Lear,
¶No but not yet, may be he is not well,
¶Infirmity doth still neglect all office, where to our health
¶Commands the minde to suffer with the body; ile forbeare,
¶And am fallen out with my more headier will,
¶This acte perswades me, that this remotion of the Duke & her
¶Is practice, onely giue me my seruant foorth;
¶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 beate 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 Cockney did to the Eeles,
¶
Enter Duke and Regan.
¶Lear. Good morrow to you both.
1405Duke. Haile to your Grace.
¶I would diuorce me from thy mothers toombe,
¶Some other time for that. Beloued Regan,
1415Of how depriued a quality, O Regan.
¶Nature on you stands on the very verge of her Confine,
¶Say you haue wrongd her sir.
¶Do 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 backe vpon me, stroke me with her tongue,
¶All the stor'd vengeances of heauen fall on her ingratefull top,
¶Lear. You nimble lightnings dart your blinding flames
¶Into her scornfull eies, infect her beauty,
1450You Fen suckt fogs, drawne by the powerfull Sunne,
¶To fall and blast her pride.
¶When the rash mood --------
¶To harshnes, her eies are fierce, but thine do comfort & not burn
¶Tis not in thee to grudge my pleasures, to cut off my traine,
¶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 endowed.
¶Duke. What trumpets that?
¶
Enter Steward.
¶Dwels in the fickle grace of her he followes,
¶Out varlet, from my sight.
1475Duke. What meanes your Grace?
¶
Enter Gonorill.
¶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?
¶All's not offence that indiscretion findes,
¶And dotage tearmes so.
¶Will you yet hold? how came my man i'th 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 needfull for your entertainment.
¶No, rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse
¶To wage against the enmity of the ayre,
¶To be a Comrade with the Wolfe and Owle,
1505Why the hot blood in France, that dowerles
¶Tooke our yongest borne, I could as well be brought
¶To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pension beg,
¶To keepe base life afoote; returne with her?
1510To this detested groome.
¶Lear. Now I prethee daughter do not make me mad,
¶I will not trouble thee my childe, farwell,
¶Wee'l 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 byle
¶Corrupted bloud, but Ile not chide thee,
1520Let shame come when it will, I do not call it,
¶I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoote,
¶Nor tell tales 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 attendance
¶We could controle them; if you will come to me,
¶(For now I spie a danger) I entreate you
1545To bring but fiue and twenty 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 twenty,
¶And thou art twice her loue.
¶Gon. Heare me my Lord;
1560What need you fiue and twenty, ten, or fiue,
¶Haue a command to tend you?
¶Regan. What needs one?
¶Allow not nature more then nature needs,
¶Mans life's as cheap as beasts; thou art a Lady,
¶If onely to go warme were gorgious,
¶Why nature needs not what thou gorgious wearest,
¶You heauens giue me that patience, patience I need,
¶You see me heere (you Gods) a poore olde fellow,
¶As full of greefe as age, wretched in both,
1575Against their Father, foole me not too much,
¶To beare it lamely, touch me with noble anger,
¶O let not womens weapons, water drops
¶Staine my mans cheekes, no you vnnaturall hags,
¶I will haue such reuenges on you both,
¶What they are, yet I know not, but they shall be
¶The terrors of the earth; you thinke ile weepe,
¶No, ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping,
¶Ere ile weepe; {o} foole, I shall go mad.
Exuent Lear, Glocester, Kent, and Foole
¶Cannot be well bestowed.
¶Reg. For his particular, ile receiue him gladly,
¶But not one follower.
¶
Enter Glocester.
¶Reg. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd.
¶Glo. The King is in high rage, and will I know not whether.
¶Glo. Alacke, the night comes on, and the bleake windes
¶The iniuries that they themselues procure,
¶He is attended with a desperate traine,
1610And what they may incense him too, being apt,
¶Duke. Shut vp your doores my Lord, tis a wilde night,
Exuent omnes.
1615
Enter Kent and a Gentleman at seuerall doores.
¶Kent. I know you, where's the King?
¶Gent. Contending with the fretfull Element,
1620Bids the winde blow the earth into the sea,
¶Or swell the curled waters boue the maine,
¶That things might change or cease, teares his white haire,
¶Catch in their fury, and make nothing of,
¶Striues in his little world of man to out-scorne,
¶The too and fro conflicting winde and raine,
.5This night wherein 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 do 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
¶And are at point to shew their open banner,
.5Now to you, if on my credite you dare build so farre,
¶Some that will thanke you, making iust report
¶Of how vnnaturall and bemadding sorrow
¶The King hath cause to plaine;
.10I am a Gentleman of blood and breeding,
¶Offer this Office to you.
¶Gent. I will talke farther with you.
1640Kent. No do 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 do 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.
¶
Exuent.
1655
Enter Lear and Foole.
¶Lear. Blow winde and cracke your cheekes, rage, blow
¶You carterickes, and Hircanios spout till you haue drencht
¶Thought executing fires, vaunt-currers to
1660Oke-cleauing thunder-bolts, sing my white head,
¶The thicke rotundity of the world, cracke natures
¶Mold, all Germains spill at once that make
¶Ingratefull man.
¶Is better then this raine water out a doore,
¶Here's a night pitties neyther wise man nor foole.
1670Nor raine, winde, thunder, fire, are my daughters,
¶I neuer gaue you kingdome, cald you children,
¶Ministers, that haue with two pernitious daughters ioyn'd
¶As this, O tis foule.
¶peece, the codpeece that will house before the head, has any the
1685cry woe, and turne his sleepe to wake, for there was neuer yet
¶Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience,
1690I will say nothing.
¶
Enter Kent.
¶Kent. Who's there?
¶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,
¶Roring winde and raine, I nere remember
1700To haue heard, mans nature cannot carry
¶The affliction, nor the force.
¶Lear. Let the great Gods that keepe this dreadfull
¶Thundring ore our heads, finde 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
¶Caytiffe 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
¶stone whereof tis rais'd, which euen but now demanding after
¶sie.
¶Lear. My wit begins to turne,
¶Come on my boy, how dost my boy, art cold?
¶Make vilde things precious, come you houell poore,
¶Foole and knaue, I haue one part of my heart
¶That sorrowes yet for thee.
¶Foole. He that has a little tine wit, with hey ho the winde and
1730the 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 Glocester, and the Bastard with lights.
¶Glost. Alacke, alacke, Edmund I like not this
Vnnaturall dealing, when I desired their leaue
¶That I might pitty him, they tooke 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;
¶There's part of a power already landed,
1765And priuily releeue him; go you and maintaine talke
¶With the Duke, that my charity be not of him
¶Perceiued; if he aske for me, I am ill, and gone
The King my old Master must be releeued, there is
¶Some strange thing toward, Edmund, pray you be carefull.
1770
Exit.
¶Then all, then yonger rises when the old do fall.
1775
Exit.
¶
Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.
¶rany of the open night's too ruffe for nature to endure.
¶Lear. Let me alone.
¶Kent. Good my Lord enter.
¶Lear. Wilt breake my heart?
¶Kent. I had rather breake mine owne, good my Lord enter.
¶Inuades vs to the skin, so tis to thee,
¶But where the greater malady is fixt,
1790But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
¶Thoud'st meete the beare it'h mouth, when the mind's free,
¶The bodies delicate, the tempest in my minde;
¶Saue what beares 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 kinde father
¶Let me shunne 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 go in,
¶Poore naked wretches, where so ere you are
¶Too little care of this, take physicke pompe,
¶me.
¶Kent. Giue me thy hand, who's there?
¶come foorth.
¶hathorne blowes the cold winde, goe to thy cold bed & warme
¶thee.
¶come to this?
¶Edg. Who giues any thing to poore Tom, whom the foule
¶fiend hath led through fire, and throgh foord, and whirli-poole,
¶ore bog and quagmire, that has laide kniues vnder his pillow, &
1835halters in his pue, set ratsbane by his pottage, made him proud
1840taking, do poore Tom some charity, whom the foule fiend vexes,
¶there could I haue him now, and there, and there againe.
¶med.
¶Lear. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre
¶Hang fated ore mens faults, fall on thy 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 heed of the foule fiend, obey thy parents, keepe thy
1870ued I deepely, dice dearely, and in woman, out paramord the
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 colde
¶winde, hay no on ny, Dolphin my boy, my boy, cease let him trot
1880by.
¶thy vncouered body this extremity of the skies; is man no more
¶ted man is no more but such a poore bare forked Animal as thou
¶art, off, off you leadings, come on be true.
¶Foole. Prithee Nunckle be content, this is a naughty night to
¶swim in, now a little fire in a wilde field, were like an old lechers
¶a walking fire.
1890
Enter Glocester.
1895Edg. This is the foule fiend Sirberdegibit, he begins at curfue,
¶and walks till the first cocke, he gins the web, the pinqueuer the
¶eye, and makes the hart lip, mildewes the white wheate, & hurts
¶thu night Moore and her nine fold bid her, O light and her troth
¶plight and arint thee, with arint thee.
¶Kent. How fares your Grace?
1905Lear. What's he?
¶Glost. What are you there? your names.
¶toade pold, the wall-wort, and the water, that in the fruite of his
1910heart, when the foule fiend rages,
Eates cowdung for sallets, swallowes the old rat, and the ditch-
¶dog, drinkes the greene mantle of the standing poole, who is
¶dy, horse to ride, and weapon to weare.
¶Hath beene Toms food for seuen long yeare.
¶Beware my follower, peace snulbug, peace thou fiend.
1920Glost, What, hath your Grace no better company?
¶Edg. The Prince of darknes is a Gentleman, modo hee's called,
¶and ma hu --------
¶doth hate what gets it.
1925Edg. Poore Toms a colde.
¶daughters hard commands, 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 ready.
¶What is the cause of thunder?
¶is your study?
¶Edg. How to preuent the fiend, and to kill vermine.
¶Lear. Let me aske you one word in priuate.
¶setle.
¶His daughters seeke his death. O that good Kent,
¶Now out-lawed from my bloud, he sought my life
¶But lately, very late, I lou'd him friend,
¶No father his sonne dearer, truth to tell thee,
1950The greefe has craz'd my wits.
¶What a night's this? I do beseech your Grace.
¶Edg. Tom's a cold.
1955Glost. In fellow there, into th'houell, keepe thee warme.
¶Lear. Come, let's in all.
¶Kent. This way my Lord.
¶Glost. Take him you on.
¶Kent. Sirra come on, go along with vs.
¶Lear. Come good Athenian.
¶Edg. Childe Rowland, to the darke towne come,
¶His word was still fye, fo, and fum,
1970
Enter Cornwall and Bastard.
¶way to loyalty, some-thing feares me to thinke of.
1975Corn. I now preceiue it was not altogether your brothers euil
¶telligent partie to the aduantages of France, O heauens, that his
¶treason were, or not I the detecter.
¶Corn. Go with me to the Dutches.
1985Bast. If the matter of this paper be certaine, you haue mighty
¶out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehen-
¶sion.
¶the conflict be sore betweene that and my bloud.
1995father in my loue.
Exit.
¶
Enter Glocester, 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
2000be long from you.
¶Kent. All the power of his wits haue giuen way to impatience,
¶Edg. Fretereto cals me, and tels me Nero is an angler in the lake
¶Foole. Prethee Nunckle tell me, whether a mad man may bee a
¶Gentleman or a Yeoman.
2014.1Edg. The foule fiend bites my backe.
¶horses health, a boyes loue, or a whores oath.
.10Why she dares not come ouer to thee.
¶ingale, Hoppedance cried in Toms belly for two white herring,
¶Croke not blacke Angell, I haue no food for thee.
.25Lear. She cannot deny it.
¶Armes, armes, sword, fire, corruption in the place,
¶They'l marre my counterfeting.
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 poisons if it bite,
2025Mastiue, Gray-hound, Mungrel, Grim-hound, or Spaniell, Brach
¶or Him, Bobtailetike, or Trundle-taile, Tom will make them
¶weepe and waile. For with throwing thus my head, dogs leape
2030the hatch, and all are fled, loudla doodla, come march to wakes,
¶and faires, and market townes, poore Tom thy horne is dry.
¶_her,
Hart is there any cause in nature that makes this hardnesse;
2035You sir, I entertaine you for one of my hundred,
¶They are Persian attire, but let them be changed.
2040Kent. Now my good my Lord lie here a while.
¶
Enter Glocester.
¶Glost. Good friend, I prethee take him in thy armes,
¶I haue ore-heard a plot of death vpon him,
¶There is a Litter ready, lay him in it, and driue towards Douer,
2050_friend,
Where thou shalt meete both welcome and protection; take vp
¶Giue thee quicke conduct.
¶Which if conuenience will not allow, stand in hard cure,
¶Leauing free things and happy showes behinde,
.10But then the minde much sufferance doth ore-skip,
¶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 fatherd, Tom away,
¶In thy iust proofe repeals and reconciles thee,
¶Lurke, lurke.
¶
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonorill, and Bastard.
¶_Letter,
The army of France is landed, seeke out the villaine Glocester.
¶Gon. Plucke out his eyes.
¶terous father, are not fit for your beholding, aduise the Duke
¶bound to the like.
Our poste shall be swift and intelligence betwixt vs;
¶How now, wheres the King?
¶
Enter Steward.
Stew. My Lord of Glocester hath conueyed him hence,
¶dants are gone with him towards Douer, where they boast to
¶haue well armed friends.
Exit Gon. and Bast.
¶Pinion him like a theefe, bring him before vs,
2085Without the forme of iustice, yet our power
¶Shall do a curtesie to our wrath, which men may blame
¶But not controle; who's there, the traitor?
¶
Enter Glocester, brought in by two or three.
2090Reg. Ingratefull Fox tis he.
¶You are my guests, do me no foule play friends.
¶Reg. Hard, hard, O filthy traitor!
¶Glost. Vnmercifull Lady as you are, I am true.
¶by the beard.
¶With robbers hands, my hospitable fauours
¶You should not ruffell thus, what will you do?
¶Corn. And what confederacy haue you with the traitors lately
¶footed in the kingdome?
¶Which came from one that's of a neutrall heart,
¶And not from one opposed.
¶Corn. Cunning.
¶Glost. To Douer.
¶In hell blacke night endur'd, would haue laid vp
¶And quencht the steeled fires, yet poore old heart,
¶He 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 dog.
¶this quarrell, what do you meane?
¶Ser. Why then come on, and take the chance of anger.
2155
She takes a sword, and runs at him behinde.
He dies.
¶Where is thy luster now?
¶Edmund vnbridle all the sparkes of nature, to quit this horrid
¶acte.
¶that made the ouerture of thy treasons to vs, who is too good to
¶pitty thee.
¶Kinde Gods forgiue me that, and prosper him.
¶Douer, how ist my Lord? how looke you?
¶Corn. I haue receiued a hurt, follow me Lady,
2175The dunghill, Regan I bleed apace, vntimely
¶Comes this hurt, giue me your arme.
Exit.
¶If this man come to good.
¶of death, women will all turne monsters.
.51.Ser. Let's follow the old Earle, and get the bedlam
¶Allowes it selfe to any thing.
¶apply to his bleeding face, now heauen helpe him.
.10
Exit.
¶
Enter Edgar.
¶Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd,
¶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 poorely led, world, world, {o} world!
¶But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee,
¶Life would not yeeld to age.
¶
Enter Gloster led by an olde man.
¶Old man. O my good Lord, I haue bene your tenant, & your
¶fathers tenant this fourescore -------
2195Glost. Away, get thee away, good friend be gone,
¶Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
¶Thee they may hurt.
¶Glost. I haue no way, and therefore want no eies,
¶Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects
¶Prooue our commodities; ah deare sonne Edgar,
¶The food of thy abused fathers wrath,
¶Might I but liue to see thee in my tuch,
2205Ide say I had eyes againe.
¶Old man. How now, who's there?
¶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 too.
¶Which made me think a man a worme, my sonne
¶Came then into my minde, and yet my minde
¶As flyes are to'th wanton boyes, are we to'th Gods,
¶They bit vs for their sport.
¶Glost. Is that the naked fellow?
¶Old man. I my Lord.
¶Thou wilt ore-take vs here a mile or twaine
2230I'th way to Douer, do it for ancient loue,
¶Who ile entreate to lead me.
¶Glost. Tis the times plague, when madmen leade the blinde,
¶Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure,
¶Aboue the rest, be gone.
¶Come on't what will.
2240Glo. Sirra, naked fellow.
¶Edg. Poore Toms a cold, I cannot dance it farther.
¶Glo. Come hither fellow.
Poore Tom hath beene scard out of his good wits,
2248.1Fiue fiends haue beene in poore Tom at once,
¶Mahu of stealing, Modo of murder, Stiberdigebit of Mobing,
2250Haue humbled to all strokes, that I am wretched, makes thee
¶Because he doth 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 brim of it,
¶With something rich about me,
¶From that place shall I no leading need.
¶
Enter Gonorill and Bastard.
¶Gon. Welcome my Lord, I maruaile our milde husband
¶Not met vs on the way: now, where's your Master?
2269.1
Enter Steward.
¶of the Army that was landed, he smiled at it, I told him you were
me sot, and told me I had turnd the wrong side out, what hee
¶That dares not vndertake, heel not feele wrongs
¶May proue effects, backe Edmund to my brother,
¶If you dare venter in your owne behalfe
¶Conceiue, and faryewell.
¶Bast. Yours in the rankes of death.
¶My foote vsurpes my head.
¶Stew. Madame, heere comes my Lord.
2298.1
Exit Steward.
¶
Enter the Duke of Albeney.
2303.1That nature which contemnes it origin,
¶Cannot be bordered certaine in it selfe,
.5And come to deadly vse.
¶Tygers, not daughters, what haue you perform'd?
.10A father, and a gracious aged man,
¶Whose reuerence the head-lugd Beare would licke;
¶Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
¶A man, a Prince, by him so beneflicted,
¶Send quickly downe to tame the vilde offences, it will come
¶_deepe.
¶Gon. Milke liuer'd man,
2305That bearest a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs,
¶Land, with plumed helme thy slaier begins threats,
.5Alacke, why does he so?
¶fiend, so horrid as in woman.
¶Gon. O vaine foole.
¶To let these hands obey my bloud,
¶They are apt enough to dislecate and teare
.5Thy flesh and bones, how ere thou art a fiend,
¶Gon. Marry your man-hood now -------
¶
Enter a Gentleman.
Alb. What newes?
¶To his great master, who thereat enraged,
2320Flew on him, and amongst them feld him dead,
¶But not without that harmfull stroke,
Which since hath pluckt him after.
2330Gon. One way I like this well,
¶But being widow, and my Glocester with her,
¶May all the building on my fancy plucke,
¶Vpon my hatefull life, another way the newes is not so tooke,
¶Ile reade and answer.
Exit.
¶Gent. Come with my Lady hither.
¶Alb. He is not here.
¶Gent. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe.
¶Might haue the freer course.
¶Come hether friend, tell me what more thou knowest.
¶
Exit.
2347.1
Enter Kent and a Gentleman.
¶Know you the reason?
.5comming foorth is thought of, which imports to the Kingdom,
¶Kent. Who hath he left behinde him, Generall?
¶on of griefe?
¶And now and then an ample teare trild downe
¶Kent. O then it moued her.
¶That plaid on her ripe lip, seeme not to know
¶What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence
¶As pearles from Diamonds dropt; in briefe,
¶Sorrow would be a rarity most beloued,
.25If all could so become it.
¶Pantingly foorth, as if it prest her heart,
¶The holy water from her heauenly eyes,
¶To deale with griefe alone.
¶Gent. No.
¶Kent. Was this before the King returnd?
¶Who sometime in his better tune remembers
¶What we are come about, and by no meanes will yeeld to see his
¶_daughter.
¶That stript her from his benediction, turnd her
¶To forraine casualties, gaue her deare rights
¶Gent. Alacke poore Gentleman.
¶Kent. Of Albanies and Cornwals powers you heard not?
¶{W}ill in concealement wrap me vp a while,
¶{W}hen I am knowne aright you shall not greeue,
¶Lending me this acquaintance, I pray you go along with me.
¶
Exit.
¶
Enter Cordelia, Doctor, and others.
¶Cor. Alacke tis he, why he was euen now,
¶Crownd with ranke femiter and furrow weeds,
¶{W}ith hor-docks, hemlocke, nettles, coockow-flowers,
2355Darnell and all the idle weeds that grow
¶Search euery acre in the high growne field,
¶And bring him to our eye, what can mans wisedome do
2360Take all my outward worth.
¶Doct. There is meanes Madame,
¶The which he lackes, that to prouoke in him
¶Spring with my teares, be aidant and remediat
¶That wants the meanes to leade it.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
¶_therward.
¶In expectation of them, {o} deare Father,
¶My mourning and important teares hath pittied,
¶No blowne ambition doth our armes insite,
2380But loue, deare loue, and our aged fathers right,
¶Soone may I heare and see him.
Exit.
¶
Enter Regan and Steward.
2385Stew. I Madam.
2390Stew. No Madam.
¶Stew. I know not Lady.
¶It was great ignorance, Glocesters eies being out,
2395To let him liue, where he arriues he moues
¶All hearts against vs, and now I thinke is gone,
¶The wayes are dangerous.
¶Stew. I may not Madam, my Lady charg'd my dutie in this
¶Something, I know not what, Ile loue thee much,
¶Let me vnseale the Letter.
¶Stew. Madam ide rather -------
2410Reg. I know your Lady does not loue her husband,
¶I am sure of that: and at her late being heere
¶To Noble Edmund, I know you are of her bosome.
¶Stew, I Madam.
¶Therefore I do aduise you to 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 do finde him, pray you giue him this,
¶And when your mistris heares thus much from you,
¶If you do chance to heare of that blinde traitor,
2425Preferment fals on him that cuts him off.
¶What Lady I do follow.
2430
Enter Gloster and Edmund.
¶Edg. You do climbe it vp now, looke how we labour?
¶Glo. Me thinkes the ground is euen.
¶Glo. No truly.
¶By your eies anguish.
¶Glo. So may it be indeed,
¶Edg. Y'are much deceiued, in nothing am I changd,
¶But in my garments.
¶The Crowes and Choughes 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 beake
¶Appeare like Mice; and yon tall Anchoring barke
¶Diminisht to her cocke; her cocke aboue
¶That on the vnnumbred idle peebles chase,
¶Cannot be heard: it is so hie Ile looke no more
¶Topple downe headlong.
¶Edg. Giue me your hand: you are now within a foot
¶Of the extreme verge; for all beneath the Moone
¶Would I not leape vpright.
¶Glo. Let go my hand:
2465Heere friend's another purse, in it a Iewell
¶Well worth a poore mans taking. Fairies and Gods
¶Prosper it with thee: go thou farther off,
¶Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going.
2470Glo. With all my heart.
¶This world I do renounce, and in your sights
2475Shake patiently my great affliction off,
¶If I could beare it longer, and not fall
2480Now fellow fare thee well.
He falles
¶he bene where he thought, by this thought had been past: Aliue
¶indeed, yet he reuiues, what are you sir?
¶Glo. Away, and let me dye.
¶So many fadome downe precipitating,
2495Ten Masts at each make not the altitude,
¶That thou hast perpendicularly fell,
¶Thy lifes a mircale, speake yet againe.
¶Glo. But haue I fallen or no?
¶Cannot be seene or heard, do but looke vp.
¶Glo. Alacke, I haue no eyes:
2505When misery could beguile the Tyrants rage,
¶And frustrate his proud will.
¶Edg. Giue me your arme:
¶Glo. Too well, too well.
¶Vpon the crowne of the cliffe, what thing was that
¶Which parted from you?
¶Glo. A poore vnfortunate begger.
¶Hornes, welkt and waued like the enridged sea.
¶It was some fiend, therefore thou happy Father
¶Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who made their honors
2520Glo. I do remember now, henceforth Ile beare
¶Affliction till it do cry out it selfe
¶Enough, enough, and dye: that thing you speake of,
¶I tooke it for a man: often would he say
¶The fiend, the fiend, he led me to that place.
2525Edg. Bare, free, and patient thoughts : but who comes heere,
¶
Enter Lear mad.
2530Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coyning, I am the King
¶himselfe.
¶money. That fellow handles his bow like a Crow-keeper, draw
2535me a clothiers yard. Looke, looke, a Mouse; peace, peace, this
¶ant, bring vp the browne bils. O well flowne birde in the ayre.
¶Hagh, giue the word.
2540Edg. Sweet Margerum.
¶Glo. I know that voice.
¶Lear. Ha Gonorill, ha Regan, they flatter'd me like a dogge, and
¶told me I had white haires in my beard, ere the black ones were
¶Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and the wind to
¶make me chatter, when the thunder would not peace at my bid-
¶ding, there I found them, there I smelt them out : goe too, they
2550are 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, Adulterie?
¶thou shalt not dye for adultery: no, the wren goes toot, and the
¶ters got tweene the lawfull sheets, toot Luxury, pell mell, for I
¶goes toot with a more riotous appetite: downe from the waste
¶they are Centaures, though women all aboue, but to the girdle
¶do the gods inherit, beneath is all the fiends, theres Hell, theres
¶good Apothecary, to sweeten my imagination, ther's money for
¶thee.
¶out to nought, do you know me?
¶me: no, do thy worst blinde Cupid, Ile not loue: Read thou that
¶challenge, marke the penning on't.
2585Edg. I would not take this from report, it is, & my hart breaks
¶at it.
¶Lear. Read.
¶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: hearke in thy eare, handy dandy, which is the
¶at a begger.
¶behold the great image of Authoritie, a dogge, so bad in office.
¶cozener, through tattered ragges small vices do appeare, Robes
¶pull off my boots, harder, harder, so.
¶Lear. If thou wilt weepe my fortune, take my eyes; I know
¶aire, we waile and cry. I will preach to thee, marke me.
¶Glo. Alack, alack, the day.
¶Lear. When we are borne, we crie that wee are come to this
2630
Enter three Gentlemen.
2635a Chirurgeon, I am cut to'th braines.
2639.1tumnes dust.
Gent. Good Sir.
2640Lear. I will dye brauely like a Bridegroome. What, I will bee
¶iouiall: Come, come, I am a King my masters, 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 neeres the other army?
¶Stands on the hourely thoughts.
¶His army is mou'd on.
¶Glo. 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 lead you to some biding.
¶Glost. Hearty thankes, the bounty and benizon of heauen
¶to boot, to boot.
2675
Enter Steward.
2680destroy thee.
¶traytor, hence least the infection of his fortune take like hold on
¶thee, let go his arme.
¶and chud haue been zwaggar'd out of my life, it would not haue
¶bene zo long by a vortnight: nay come not neere the olde man,
keepe out cheuore ye, or ile try whether your costard or my bat
¶be the harder, chill be plaine with you.
¶Edg. Chil pick your teeth zir, come no matter for your foines.
2700If euer thou wilt thriue, bury my body,
¶And giue the Letters which thou findst about me
¶The British party: {o} vntimely death! death.
2703.1
He dyes.
2705As dutious to the vices of thy Mistris,
¶Glo. What is he dead?
¶Let vs see, leaue gentle wax, and manners blame vs not,
¶To know our enemies minds wee'd rip their hearts,
¶Their papers is more lawfull.
2715
A Letter.
¶_Let your reciprocall vowes be 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 Conqueror,
¶Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my Iayle,
2720From the loath'd warmth whereof deliuer me,
And supply the place for your labour.
¶
Your wife (so I would say) & your affectionate seruant,
¶
Gonorill.
2725A plot vpon her vertuous husbands life,
¶And the exchange my Brother: heere in the sands
¶Of murtherous letchers, and in the mature time
2730Of the death practisd Duke, for him tis well,
¶That I stand vp, and haue ingenious feeling
¶And woes by wrong imaginations, lose
¶The knowledge of themselues.
¶
A Drumme afarre off.
2740Edg. Giue me your hand:
¶Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten drum.
¶Come Father Ile bestow you with a friend.
Exit
¶
Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Doctor.
2745Cor. O thou good Kent,
2750Kent. To be acknowledg'd Madam is ore-paid,
¶All my reports go with the modest truth,
¶Nor more, nor clipt, but so.
These weeds are memories of those worser houres,
2755I prethee put them off.
¶Kent. Pardon me deere Madam,
¶Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent,
¶My boone I make it that you know me not,
¶Till time and I thinke meet.
¶Cor. O you kinde Gods,
¶Cure this great breach in his abused nature,
¶Of this childe-changed Father.
¶He hath slept long.
¶Cor. Be gouern'd by your knowledge, and proceede
2770Ith sway of your owne will: is he array'd?
¶We put fresh garments on him.
¶Kent. Good Madam be by when we do awake him,
2775I doubt not of his temperance.
2775.1Cor. Very well.
¶Cor. O my deere father,
Restoration hang thy medicine on my lippes,
¶Had challeng'd pitty 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 a'th graue,
¶Vpon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares
¶Do scald like molten Lead.
¶Cor. Sir, know ye me?
¶Lea. Where haue I bin? where am I? faire day light!
¶And hold your hands in benediction ore me,
¶Lear. Pray do not mocke me:
¶I am a very foolish fond olde man,
2815Fourescore and vpward, and to deale plainly,
¶I feare I am not perfect in my minde.
¶Me thinkes 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. Do no laugh at me,
¶For (as I am a man) I thinke this Lady
2825To be my childe Cordelia.
¶Lear. Be your teares wet? Yes faith: I pray weepe not,
¶If you haue poison for me I will drinke it:
¶Haue (as I do remember) done me wrong.
¶Lear. Am I in France?
¶cured in him, and yet it is danger to make him euen ore the time
ther setling.
¶Pray now forget and forgiue,
¶I am olde and foolish.
Exeunt.
2843.1
Manet Kent and Gentleman.
¶Gent. Who is conductor of his people?
¶Kent in Germany.
¶Kent. Report is changeable, tis time to looke about,
¶The powers of the kingdome approch apace.
¶Kent. My point and period will be throughly wrought,
¶Or well, or ill, as this dayes battels fought.
2845
Enter Edmund, Regan, and their powers.
¶To change the course , he is full of alteration
¶Bast. Tis to be doubted Madam.
2855Tell me truly, but then speake the truth,
¶Bast. I honor'd loue.
¶Reg. But haue you neuer found my brothers way,
¶To the forefended place?
¶Reg. I am doubtfull that you haue beene coniunct
¶And bosom'd with her, as farre as we call hers.
2860Bast. No by mine honor Madam.
Deere my Lord be not familiar with her.
¶
Enter Albany and Gonorill with troopes.
For this I heare the King is come to his daughter
¶With others, whom the rigour of our State
¶Forc'd to cry out. Where I could not be honest
¶It toucheth vs, as France inuades our land
¶Not bolds the king, with others whom I feare,
Reg. Why is this reason'd.
¶Are not to question heere.
¶Alb. Let vs then determine
With the Ancient of warre on our proceedings.
¶Gon. No.
2880
Enter Edgar.
¶Heare me one word.
¶Edg. Before you fight the battell, ope this Letter,
2885If you haue victory let the trumpet sounde
¶For him that brought it, wretched though I seeme,
¶I can produce a Champion, that will prooue
¶What is auouched there. If you miscarry,
2890Fortune loue you.
¶Alb. Stay till I haue read the letter.
¶Edg. I was forbid it,
¶And Ile appeare againe.
Exit:
2895Alb. Why fare thee well, I will looke ore the paper.
¶
Enter Edmund.
¶Bast. The enemy's in view, draw vp your powers,
¶Alb. We will greet the time.
¶Each iealous of the other, as the sting are of the Adder,
¶Which of them shall I take, both one
2905Or neither; neither can be enioy'd
¶If both remaine aliue: to take the Widdow,
¶Her husband being aliue. Now then wee'l vse
2910His countenance for the battell, which being done
¶Let her that would be rid of him deuise
¶His speedy taking off: as for his mercie
¶Which he extends to Lear and to Cordelia,
¶The battell done, and they within our power,
¶Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
Exit
¶
Alarum. Enter the powers of France ouer the stage, Cordelia
2918.1
with her Father in her hand.
2920
Enter Edgar and Gloster.
¶For your good hoast: pray that the right may thriue.
¶If euer I returne to you againe,
¶Ile bring you comfort.
Exit
¶Edg. Away olde man, giue me thy hand, away,
¶King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter tane:
2930Giue me thy hand, come on.
¶Their going hence, euen as their comming hither,
Exit.
¶
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 i'th cage:
¶And pray, and tell old tales, and laugh
¶At gilded Butterflies, and heare poore Rogues
¶Talke of Court newes, and weel talke with them too,
¶And take vpon's the mystery of things,
¶As if we were Gods spies: and weel weare out
¶That ebbe and flow by the 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,
Exit
¶Bast. Come hither Captaine, hearke.
¶Take thou this note, go follow them to prison,
Thou dost make thy way to Noble fortunes:
¶Know thou this, that men are as the time is;
¶To be tender minded does not become a sword,
2975Thy great employment will not beare question,
¶Either say thout do't, or thriue by other meanes.
¶Cap. Ile doot my Lord.
¶As I haue set it downe.
2981.1Cap. I cannot draw a Cart, nor eate dryed oates,
¶It it be mans worke, Ile doo't.
¶
Enter the Duke, the two Ladies, and others.
¶And Fortune led you well: you haue the Captiues
¶May equally determine.
¶Bast. Sir I thought it fit,
To some retention, and appointed guard,
¶And turne our imprest Launces in our eyes
¶Which do commend them. With him I sent the Queene:
¶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 immediate may well stand vp,
¶And call it selfe your brother.
¶More then in your aduancement.
¶From a full flowing stomacke. Generall,
¶My Lord and master.
¶Gon. Meane you to enioy him then?
¶Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will.
¶Bast. Nor in thine Lord.
3025Alb. Halfe blooded fellow, yes.
¶On capitall treason; and in thine attaint,
3030I bare it in the interestof my wife,
¶And I her husband contradict the banes,
¶If you will marry, 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 heere proclaim'd thee.
3045Bast. Ther's my exchange, what in the world he is,
¶That names me traitor, villain-like he lyes,
¶Call by thy Trumpet, he that dares approach
¶On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine
¶My truth and honor firmely.
¶Alb. A Herald ho.
3051.1Bast. A herald ho, a herald.
¶All leuied in my name, haue in my name tooke their discharge.
¶Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my tent,
¶Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet sound, and read our this.
3057.1Cap. Sound Trumpet.
¶that he's a manifold traitor, let him appeare at the thirde sound
¶of the Trumpet: he is bold in his defence.
¶
Enter Edgar at the third sound, with a trumpet before him.
¶Vpon this call o'th trumpet?
3070Her. What are you? your name and quality?
¶Bare-gnawne and canker-bit,
3075Where is the aduersary I come to cope withall?
¶That if my speech offend a noble heart, thy arme
¶May do thee iustice, heere is mine:
¶Behold it is the priuiledge of my tongue,
¶Maugre thy strength, youth, place and eminence,
¶Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a traitor:
¶False to the gods, thy brother, and thy father,
¶And from th'extremest vpward of thy head,
Is bent to proue vpon thy heart, whereto I speake thou lyest.
¶With the hell hatedly ore-turn'd thy heart,
¶Thou art not bound to offer an vnknowne opposite,
¶it: thou worse then any thing, reade thine owne euill. Nay, no
3115tearing Lady, I perceiue you know't.
¶me for it.
¶Bast. What you haue charg'd me with, that haue I done,
¶And more, much more, the time will bring it out.
3125me? If thou beest noble, 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,
¶Where he thee got, cost him his eyes.
¶The wheele is come full circkled, I am heere.
¶Edg. Worthy Prince I know it.
¶How haue you knowne the miseries of your father?
3145List a breefe tale, and when tis told,
3145.1O that my heart would burst. The bloody proclamation
¶{W}ould hourely dye, rather then dye 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 any more more wofull, hold it in.
¶As loue not sorrow, but another to amplifie too much,
¶{W}ould make much more, and top extremity.
¶{W}hilst I was big in clamor, came there in a man,
¶Shund my abhord society: but then finding
¶He fastened on my necke, and bellowd out
¶As hee'd burst heauen, threw me on my father,
.10And told the pitteous 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 enemy king, and did him seruice
¶Improper for a slaue.
¶
Enter one with a bloody knife.
3170Gent. Helpe, helpe.
¶Alb. What kinde of helpe? what meanes that bloody knife?
¶Bast. I was contracted to them both, all three
3180Now marry in an instant.
¶Alb. Produce theie bodies be they aliue or dead:
3185This iustice of the heauens that makes vs tremble,
¶Touches not with pity.
Enter Kent
¶Alb. O tis he, the time will not allow
The complement that very manners vrges.
¶Is he not heere?
¶Alb. Great things of vs forgot. Speake Edmund, where's the
¶king, and wher's Cordelia? Seest thou this obiect Kent?
¶
The bodies of Gonorill & Regan are brought in.
3195Kent. Alacke, why thus.
¶Writ, tis on the life of Lear, & on Cordelia: nay, send in time.
3205Alb. Run, run, O run.
¶Edg. To who my Lord? who hath the office?
¶Send thy token of repreeue.
3215Alb. 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,
¶do's redeeme all sorrowes that euer I haue felt.
¶Lear. Prethee away.
¶Edg. Tis Noble Kent your friend.
¶Lear. A plague vpon you murdrous traitors all, I might haue
¶an excellent thing in woman. I kild the slaue that was a hanging
¶thee.
Cap. Tis true my Lords hee did.
¶ting Fauchion I would haue made them skip: I am old now, and
¶One of them we behold.
¶Lear. Are not you Kent?
3250Lear. Hees a good fellow, I can tell that,
¶Heel 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 are welcome hether.
3260And desperately are dead.
Lear. So I thinke too.
¶That we present vs to him.
¶Cap: Edmund is dead my Lord.
¶Alb: Thats but a trifle heere: you Lords and Noble friends,
¶know our intent, what comfort to this decay may come, shalbe
¶to him our absolute power, you to your rights with boote, and
¶such addition as your honors haue more then merited, al friends
¶a dog, a horse, a rat haue life, and thou no breath at all? O thou
¶wilt come no more, neuer, neuer, neuer: pray vndo this button;
¶thanke you sir, O, o, o, o, o.
¶Edg, He faints, my Lord, my Lord.
3285Lear: Breake heart, I prethe breake.
¶Edg: Looke vp my Lord.
¶he hates him much, 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.
