Not Peer Reviewed
- Edition: King Lear
King Lear (Folio 1, 1623)
- Introduction
- Texts of this edition
- Contextual materials
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- Holinshed on King Lear
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- The History of King Leir
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- Albion's England (Selection)
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- Hardyng's Chronicle (Selection)
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- Kings of Britain
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- Chronicles of England
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- Faerie Queene
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- The Mirror for Magistrates
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- The Arcadia
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- A Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures
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- Aristotle on tragedy
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- The Book of Job (Selections)
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- The Monk's Tale (Selections)
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- The Defense of Poetry
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- The First Blast of the Trumpet
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- Basilicon Doron
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- On Bastards
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- On Aging
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- King Lear (Adapted by Nahum Tate)
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- Facsimiles
2177Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
2178Enter Edgar.
2183The lamentable change is from the best,
2184The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then,
2187Owes nothing to thy blasts.
2188Enter Glouster, and an Old man.
2189But who comes heere? My Father poorely led?
2190World, World, O world!
2191But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee,
2192Life would not yeelde to age.
2193Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant,
2196Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
2197Thee, they may hurt.
2199Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes:
2202Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar,
2203The food of thy abused Fathers wrath:
2204Might I but liue to see thee in my touch,
2205I'ld say I had eyes againe.
2206Oldm. How now? who's there?
2208I am worse then ere I was.
2209Old. 'Tis poore mad Tom.
2213Glou. Is it a Beggar-man?
2217Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne
2218Came then into my minde, and yet my minde
2220I haue heard more since:
2221As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th'Gods,
2222They kill vs for their sport.
2226Glou. Is that the naked Fellow?
2229Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine
2230I'th'way toward Douer, do it for ancient loue,
2231And bring some couering for this naked Soule,
2232Which Ile intreate to leade me.
2234Glou. 'Tis the times plague,
2235When Madmen leade the blinde:
2236Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure:
2237Aboue the rest, be gone.
2240Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow.
2241Edg. Poore Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further.
2242Glou. Come hither fellow.
2248thee good mans sonne, from the foule Fiend.
2250Haue humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
2254Because he do's not feele, feele your powre quickly:
2256And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer?
2259Lookes fearfully in the confined Deepe:
2260Bring me but to the very brimme of it,
2262With something rich about me: from that place,
2263I shall no leading neede.
2264Edg. Giue me thy arme;