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  • Title: King Lear (Quarto 1, 1608)
  • Editor: Michael Best
  • Textual editors: James D. Mardock, Eric Rasmussen
  • Coordinating editor: Michael Best

    • ISBN: 978-1-55058-463-9

    Copyright Michael Best. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Michael Best
    Not Peer Reviewed

    King Lear (Quarto 1, 1608)

    The Historie of King Lear.
    tagem to shoot a troupe of horse with fell, & when I haue stole
    vpon these sonne in lawes, then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
    2630Enter three Gentlemen.
    Gent. O here he is, lay hands vpon him sirs, your most deere
    Lear. No reskue, what a prisoner, I am eene the naturall foole
    of Fortune, vse me well 2635you shall haue ransome, let mee haue a
    churgion I am cut to the braines.
    Gent. You shall haue any thing.
    Lear. No seconds, all my selfe, why this would make a man
    of salt 2640to vse his eyes for garden waterpots, I and laying Autumsdust.
    Lear. 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.
    Lear. Then theres life int, nay and 2645you get it you shall get it
    with running. Exit King running.
    Gent. A sight most pitifull in the meanest wretch, past spea-
    king of in a king: thou hast one daughter who redeemes nature
    from the generall curse which twaine hath brought her to.
    2650Edg. Haile gentle sir.
    Gent. Sir speed you, whats your will.
    Edg. Do you heare ought of a battell toward.
    Gent. Most sure and vulgar euery one here's that
    That can distinguish sence.
    2655Edg. But by your fauour how neers the other army.
    Gent. Neere and on speed fort the maine descryes,
    Standst on the howerly thoughts.
    Edg. I thanke you sir thats all.
    2660Gent. Though that the Queene on speciall cause is here,
    Hir army is moued on. Edg. I thanke you sir. Exit.
    Glost. You euer gentle gods take my breath from me,
    Let not my worser spirit tempt me againe,
    2665To dye before you please. Edg. Well, pray you father.
    Glost. Now good sir what are you.
    Edg. A most poore man made lame by Fortunes blowes,
    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.
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