KING LEAR by William Shakespeare 1606 Act I

SCENE I - King Lear's palace.     Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND KENT     I thought the king had more affected the Duke of     Albany than Cornwall. GLOUCESTER     It did always seem so to us: but now, in the     division of the kingdom, it appears not which of     the dukes he values most; for equalities are so     weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice     of either's moiety. KENT     Is not this your son, my lord? GLOUCESTER     His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have     so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am     brazed to it. KENT     I cannot conceive you. GLOUCESTER     Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon     she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son     for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.     Do you smell a fault? KENT     I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it     being so proper. GLOUCESTER     But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year     elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:     though this knave came something saucily into the     world before he was sent for, yet was his mother     fair; there was good sport at his making, and the     whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this     noble gentleman, Edmund? EDMUND     No, my lord. GLOUCESTER     My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my     honourable friend. EDMUND     My services to your lordship. KENT     I must love you, and sue to know you better. EDMUND     Sir, I shall study deserving. GLOUCESTER     He hath been out nine years, and away he shall     again. The king is coming.     Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants KING LEAR     Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. GLOUCESTER     I shall, my liege.     Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND KING LEAR     Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.     Give me the map there. Know that we have divided     In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent     To shake all cares and business from our age;     Conferring them on younger strengths, while we     Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,     And you, our no less loving son of Albany,     We have this hour a constant will to publish     Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife     May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy,     Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,     Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,     And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters,--     Since now we will divest us both of rule,     Interest of territory, cares of state,--     Which of you shall we say doth love us most?     That we our largest bounty may extend     Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,     Our eldest-born, speak first. GONERIL     Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;     Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;     Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;     No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;     As much as child e'er loved, or father found;     A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;     Beyond all manner of so much I love you. CORDELIA     [Aside] What shall Cordelia do?     Love, and be silent. LEAR     Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,     With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,     With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,     We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue     Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,     Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. REGAN     Sir, I am made     Of the self-same metal that my sister is,     And prize me at her worth. In my true heart     I find she names my very deed of love;     Only she comes too short: that I profess     Myself an enemy to all other joys,     Which the most precious square of sense possesses;     And find I am alone felicitate     In your dear highness' love. CORDELIA     [Aside] Then poor Cordelia!     And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's     More richer than my tongue. KING LEAR     To thee and thine hereditary ever     Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;     No less in space, validity, and pleasure,     Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy,     Although the last, not least; to whose young love     The vines of France and milk of Burgundy     Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw     A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. CORDELIA     Nothing, my lord. KING LEAR     Nothing! CORDELIA     Nothing. KING LEAR     Nothing will come of nothing: speak again. CORDELIA     Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave     My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty     According to my bond; nor more nor less. KING LEAR     How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little,     Lest it may mar your fortunes. CORDELIA     Good my lord,     You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I     Return those duties back as are right fit,     Obey you, love you, and most honour you.     Why have my sisters husbands, if they say     They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,     That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry     Half my love with him, half my care and duty:     Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,     To love my father all. KING LEAR     But goes thy heart with this? CORDELIA     Ay, good my lord. KING LEAR     So young, and so untender? CORDELIA     So young, my lord, and true. KING LEAR     Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower:     For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,     The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;     By all the operation of the orbs     From whom we do exist, and cease to be;     Here I disclaim all my paternal care,     Propinquity and property of blood,     And as a stranger to my heart and me     Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,     Or he that makes his generation messes     To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom     Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved,     As thou my sometime daughter. KENT     Good my liege,-- KING LEAR     Peace, Kent!     Come not between the dragon and his wrath.     I loved her most, and thought to set my rest     On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight!     So be my grave my peace, as here I give     Her father's heart from her! Call France; who stirs?     Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,     With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:     Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.     I do invest you jointly with my power,     Pre-eminence, and all the large effects     That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,     With reservation of an hundred knights,     By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode     Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain     The name, and all the additions to a king;     The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,     Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,     This coronet part betwixt you.     Giving the crown KENT     Royal Lear,     Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,     Loved as my father, as my master follow'd,     As my great patron thought on in my prayers,-- KING LEAR     The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. KENT     Let it fall rather, though the fork invade     The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,     When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man?     Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak,     When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,     When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom;     And, in thy best consideration, cheque     This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment,     Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;     Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound     Reverbs no hollowness. KING LEAR     Kent, on thy life, no more. KENT     My life I never held but as a pawn     To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it,     Thy safety being the motive. KING LEAR     Out of my sight! KENT     See better, Lear; and let me still remain     The true blank of thine eye. KING LEAR     Now, by Apollo,-- KENT     Now, by Apollo, king,     Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. KING LEAR     O, vassal! miscreant!     Laying his hand on his sword ALBANY CORNWALL     Dear sir, forbear. KENT     Do:     Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow     Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom;     Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,     I'll tell thee thou dost evil. KING LEAR     Hear me, recreant!     On thine allegiance, hear me!     Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,     Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride     To come between our sentence and our power,     Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,     Our potency made good, take thy reward.     Five days we do allot thee, for provision     To shield thee from diseases of the world;     And on the sixth to turn thy hated back     Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,     Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,     The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter,     This shall not be revoked. KENT     Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear,     Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.     To CORDELIA     The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,     That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said!     To REGAN and GONERIL     And your large speeches may your deeds approve,     That good effects may spring from words of love.     Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;     He'll shape his old course in a country new.     Exit     Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and Attendants GLOUCESTER     Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. KING LEAR     My lord of Burgundy.     We first address towards you, who with this king     Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least,     Will you require in present dower with her,     Or cease your quest of love? BURGUNDY     Most royal majesty,     I crave no more than what your highness offer'd,     Nor will you tender less. KING LEAR     Right noble Burgundy,     When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;     But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands:     If aught within that little seeming substance,     Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,     And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,     She's there, and she is yours. BURGUNDY     I know no answer. KING LEAR     Will you, with those infirmities she owes,     Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,     Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,     Take her, or leave her? BURGUNDY     Pardon me, royal sir;     Election makes not up on such conditions. KING LEAR     Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,     I tell you all her wealth.     To KING OF FRANCE     For you, great king,     I would not from your love make such a stray,     To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you     To avert your liking a more worthier way     Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed     Almost to acknowledge hers. KING OF FRANCE     This is most strange,     That she, that even but now was your best object,     The argument of your praise, balm of your age,     Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time     Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle     So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence     Must be of such unnatural degree,     That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection     Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,     Must be a faith that reason without miracle     Could never plant in me. CORDELIA     I yet beseech your majesty,--     If for I want that glib and oily art,     To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,     I'll do't before I speak,--that you make known     It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,     No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,     That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;     But even for want of that for which I am richer,     A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue     As I am glad I have not, though not to have it     Hath lost me in your liking. KING LEAR     Better thou     Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better. KING OF FRANCE     Is it but this,--a tardiness in nature     Which often leaves the history unspoke     That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy,     What say you to the lady? Love's not love     When it is mingled with regards that stand     Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?     She is herself a dowry. BURGUNDY     Royal Lear,     Give but that portion which yourself proposed,     And here I take Cordelia by the hand,     Duchess of Burgundy. KING LEAR     Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm. BURGUNDY     I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father     That you must lose a husband. CORDELIA     Peace be with Burgundy!     Since that respects of fortune are his love,     I shall not be his wife. KING OF FRANCE     Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;     Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised!     Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:     Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.     Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect     My love should kindle to inflamed respect.     Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,     Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:     Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy     Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.     Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:     Thou losest here, a better where to find. KING LEAR     Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we     Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see     That face of hers again. Therefore be gone     Without our grace, our love, our benison.     Come, noble Burgundy.     Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, GONERIL, REGAN, and CORDELIA KING OF FRANCE     Bid farewell to your sisters. CORDELIA     The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes     Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are;     And like a sister am most loath to call     Your faults as they are named. Use well our father:     To your professed bosoms I commit him     But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,     I would prefer him to a better place.     So, farewell to you both. REGAN     Prescribe not us our duties. GONERIL     Let your study     Be to content your lord, who hath received you     At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,     And well are worth the want that you have wanted. CORDELIA     Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:     Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.     Well may you prosper! KING OF FRANCE     Come, my fair Cordelia.     Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and CORDELIA GONERIL     Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what     most nearly appertains to us both. I think our     father will hence to-night. REGAN     That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. GONERIL     You see how full of changes his age is; the     observation we have made of it hath not been     little: he always loved our sister most; and     with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off     appears too grossly. REGAN     'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever     but slenderly known himself. GONERIL     The best and soundest of his time hath been but     rash; then must we look to receive from his age,     not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed     condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness     that infirm and choleric years bring with them. REGAN     Such unconstant starts are we like to have from     him as this of Kent's banishment. GONERIL     There is further compliment of leavetaking     between France and him. Pray you, let's hit     together: if our father carry authority with     such dispositions as he bears, this last     surrender of his will but offend us. REGAN     We shall further think on't. GONERIL     We must do something, and i' the heat.     Exeunt SCENE II - The Earl of Gloucester's castle     Enter EDMUND, with a letter EDMUND     Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law     My services are bound. Wherefore should I     Stand in the plague of custom, and permit     The curiosity of nations to deprive me,     For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines     Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?     When my dimensions are as well compact,     My mind as generous, and my shape as true,     As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us     With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?     Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take     More composition and fierce quality     Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,     Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,     Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,     Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:     Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund     As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!     Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,     And my invention thrive, Edmund the base     Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:     Now, gods, stand up for bastards!     Enter GLOUCESTER GLOUCESTER     Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted!     And the king gone to-night! subscribed his power!     Confined to exhibition! All this done     Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! what news? EDMUND     So please your lordship, none.     Putting up the letter GLOUCESTER     Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? EDMUND     I know no news, my lord. GLOUCESTER     What paper were you reading? EDMUND     Nothing, my lord. GLOUCESTER     No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of     it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath     not such need to hide itself. Let's see: come,     if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. EDMUND     I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter     from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read;     and for so much as I have perused, I find it not     fit for your o'er-looking. GLOUCESTER     Give me the letter, sir. EDMUND     I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The     contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. GLOUCESTER     Let's see, let's see. EDMUND     I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote     this but as an essay or taste of my virtue. GLOUCESTER     [Reads] 'This policy and reverence of age makes     the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps     our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish     them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage     in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not     as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to     me, that of this I may speak more. If our father     would sleep till I waked him, you should half his     revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your     brother, EDGAR.'     Hum--conspiracy!--'Sleep till I waked him,--you     should enjoy half his revenue,'--My son Edgar!     Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain     to breed it in?--When came this to you? who     brought it? EDMUND     It was not brought me, my lord; there's the     cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the     casement of my closet. GLOUCESTER     You know the character to be your brother's? EDMUND     If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear     it were his; but, in respect of that, I would     fain think it were not. GLOUCESTER     It is his. EDMUND     It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is     not in the contents. GLOUCESTER     Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business? EDMUND     Never, my lord: but I have heard him oft     maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age,     and fathers declining, the father should be as     ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. GLOUCESTER     O villain, villain! His very opinion in the     letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested,     brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah,     seek him; I'll apprehend him: abominable villain!     Where is he? EDMUND     I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please     you to suspend your indignation against my     brother till you can derive from him better     testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain     course; where, if you violently proceed against     him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great     gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the     heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life     for him, that he hath wrote this to feel my     affection to your honour, and to no further     pretence of danger. GLOUCESTER     Think you so? EDMUND     If your honour judge it meet, I will place you     where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an     auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and     that without any further delay than this very evening. GLOUCESTER     He cannot be such a monster-- EDMUND     Nor is not, sure. GLOUCESTER     To his father, that so tenderly and entirely     loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him     out: wind me into him, I pray you: frame the     business after your own wisdom. I would unstate     myself, to be in a due resolution. EDMUND     I will seek him, sir, presently: convey the     business as I shall find means and acquaint you withal. GLOUCESTER     These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend     no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can     reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself     scourged by the sequent effects: love cools,     friendship falls off, brothers divide: in     cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in     palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son     and father. This villain of mine comes under the     prediction; there's son against father: the king     falls from bias of nature; there's father against     child. We have seen the best of our time:     machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all     ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our     graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall     lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the     noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his     offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.     Exit EDMUND     This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,     when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit     of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our     disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as     if we were villains by necessity; fools by     heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and     treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards,     liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of     planetary influence; and all that we are evil in,     by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion     of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish     disposition to the charge of a star! My     father compounded with my mother under the     dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa     major; so that it follows, I am rough and     lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am,     had the maidenliest star in the firmament     twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar--     Enter EDGAR     And pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old     comedy: my cue is villanous melancholy, with a     sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. O, these eclipses do     portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi. EDGAR     How now, brother Edmund! what serious     contemplation are you in? EDMUND     I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read     this other day, what should follow these eclipses. EDGAR     Do you busy yourself about that? EDMUND     I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed     unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child     and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of     ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and     maledictions against king and nobles; needless     diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation     of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what. EDGAR     How long have you been a sectary astronomical? EDMUND     Come, come; when saw you my father last? EDGAR     Why, the night gone by. EDMUND     Spake you with him? EDGAR     Ay, two hours together. EDMUND     Parted you in good terms? Found you no     displeasure in him by word or countenance? EDGAR     None at all. EDMUND     Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended     him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence     till some little time hath qualified the heat of     his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth     in him, that with the mischief of your person it     would scarcely allay. EDGAR     Some villain hath done me wrong. EDMUND     That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent     forbearance till the spied of his rage goes     slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my     lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to     hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there's my key:     if you do stir abroad, go armed. EDGAR     Armed, brother! EDMUND     Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed: I     am no honest man if there be any good meaning     towards you: I have told you what I have seen     and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image     and horror of it: pray you, away. EDGAR     Shall I hear from you anon? EDMUND     I do serve you in this business.     Exit EDGAR     A credulous father! and a brother noble,     Whose nature is so far from doing harms,     That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty     My practises ride easy! I see the business.     Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:     All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.     Exit SCENE III - The Duke of Albany's palace     Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD, her steward GONERIL     Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? OSWALD     Yes, madam. GONERIL     By day and night he wrongs me; every hour     He flashes into one gross crime or other,     That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:     His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us     On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,     I will not speak with him; say I am sick:     If you come slack of former services,     You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. OSWALD     He's coming, madam; I hear him.     Horns within GONERIL     Put on what weary negligence you please,     You and your fellows; I'll have it come to question:     If he dislike it, let him to our sister,     Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,     Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man,     That still would manage those authorities     That he hath given away! Now, by my life,     Old fools are babes again; and must be used     With cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused.     Remember what I tell you. OSWALD     Well, madam. GONERIL     And let his knights have colder looks among you;     What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so:     I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall,     That I may speak: I'll write straight to my sister,     To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner.     Exeunt SCENE IV - A hall in the same     Enter KENT, disguised KENT     If but as well I other accents borrow,     That can my speech defuse, my good intent     May carry through itself to that full issue     For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,     If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,     So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest,     Shall find thee full of labours.     Horns within. Enter KING LEAR, Knights, and Attendants KING LEAR     Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready.     Exit an Attendant     How now! what art thou? KENT     A man, sir. KING LEAR     What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with us? KENT     I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve     him truly that will put me in trust: to love him     that is honest; to converse with him that is wise,     and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I     cannot choose; and to eat no fish. KING LEAR     What art thou? KENT     A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king. KING LEAR     If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a     king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou? KENT     Service. KING LEAR     Who wouldst thou serve? KENT     You. KING LEAR     Dost thou know me, fellow? KENT     No, sir; but you have that in your countenance     which I would fain call master. KING LEAR     What's that? KENT     Authority. KING LEAR     What services canst thou do? KENT     I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious     tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message     bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am     qualified in; and the best of me is diligence. KING LEAR     How old art thou? KENT     Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor     so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years     on my back forty eight. KING LEAR     Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no     worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet.     Dinner, ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool?     Go you, and call my fool hither.     Exit an Attendant     Enter OSWALD     You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? OSWALD     So please you,--     Exit KING LEAR     What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.     Exit a Knight     Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep.     Re-enter Knight     How now! where's that mongrel? Knight     He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. KING LEAR     Why came not the slave back to me when I called him. Knight     Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would     not. KING LEAR     He would not! Knight     My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my     judgment, your highness is not entertained with that     ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a     great abatement of kindness appears as well in the     general dependants as in the duke himself also and     your daughter. KING LEAR     Ha! sayest thou so? Knight     I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken;     for my duty cannot be silent when I think your     highness wronged. KING LEAR     Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I     have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I     have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity     than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness:     I will look further into't. But where's my fool? I     have not seen him this two days. Knight     Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the     fool hath much pined away. KING LEAR     No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and     tell my daughter I would speak with her.     Exit an Attendant     Go you, call hither my fool.     Exit an Attendant     Re-enter OSWALD     O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I,     sir? OSWALD     My lady's father. KING LEAR     'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your     whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! OSWALD     I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. KING LEAR     Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?     Striking him OSWALD     I'll not be struck, my lord. KENT     Nor tripped neither, you base football player.     Tripping up his heels KING LEAR     I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll     love thee. KENT     Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences:     away, away! if you will measure your lubber's     length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you     wisdom? so.     Pushes OSWALD out KING LEAR     Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's     earnest of thy service.     Giving KENT money     Enter Fool Fool     Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb.     Offering KENT his cap KING LEAR     How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou? Fool     Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. KENT     Why, fool? Fool     Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour:     nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits,     thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb:     why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters,     and did the third a blessing against his will; if     thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.     How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! KING LEAR     Why, my boy? Fool     If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs     myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. KING LEAR     Take heed, sirrah; the whip. Fool     Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped     out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink. KING LEAR     A pestilent gall to me! Fool     Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. KING LEAR     Do. Fool     Mark it, nuncle:     Have more than thou showest,     Speak less than thou knowest,     Lend less than thou owest,     Ride more than thou goest,     Learn more than thou trowest,     Set less than thou throwest;     Leave thy drink and thy whore,     And keep in-a-door,     And thou shalt have more     Than two tens to a score. KENT     This is nothing, fool. Fool     Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you     gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of     nothing, nuncle? KING LEAR     Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. Fool     [To KENT] Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of     his land comes to: he will not believe a fool. KING LEAR     A bitter fool! Fool     Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a     bitter fool and a sweet fool? KING LEAR     No, lad; teach me. Fool     That lord that counsell'd thee     To give away thy land,     Come place him here by me,     Do thou for him stand:     The sweet and bitter fool     Will presently appear;     The one in motley here,     The other found out there. KING LEAR     Dost thou call me fool, boy? Fool     All thy other titles thou hast given away; that     thou wast born with. KENT     This is not altogether fool, my lord. Fool     No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if     I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't:     and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool     to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg,     nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns. KING LEAR     What two crowns shall they be? Fool     Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat     up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou     clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away     both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o'er     the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown,     when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak     like myself in this, let him be whipped that first     finds it so.     Singing     Fools had ne'er less wit in a year;     For wise men are grown foppish,     They know not how their wits to wear,     Their manners are so apish. KING LEAR     When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? Fool     I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy     daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them     the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches,     Singing     Then they for sudden joy did weep,     And I for sorrow sung,     That such a king should play bo-peep,     And go the fools among.     Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach     thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie. KING LEAR     An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. Fool     I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are:     they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt     have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am     whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any     kind o' thing than a fool: and yet I would not be     thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides,     and left nothing i' the middle: here comes one o'     the parings.     Enter GONERIL KING LEAR     How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on?     Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. Fool     Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to     care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a     figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool,     thou art nothing.     To GONERIL     Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face     bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,     He that keeps nor crust nor crum,     Weary of all, shall want some.     Pointing to KING LEAR     That's a shealed peascod. GONERIL     Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool,     But other of your insolent retinue     Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth     In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir,     I had thought, by making this well known unto you,     To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,     By what yourself too late have spoke and done.     That you protect this course, and put it on     By your allowance; which if you should, the fault     Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,     Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,     Might in their working do you that offence,     Which else were shame, that then necessity     Will call discreet proceeding. Fool     For, you trow, nuncle,     The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,     That it's had it head bit off by it young.     So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. KING LEAR     Are you our daughter? GONERIL     Come, sir,     I would you would make use of that good wisdom,     Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away     These dispositions, that of late transform you     From what you rightly are. Fool     May not an ass know when the cart     draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee. KING LEAR     Doth any here know me? This is not Lear:     Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?     Either his notion weakens, his discernings     Are lethargied--Ha! waking? 'tis not so.     Who is it that can tell me who I am? Fool     Lear's shadow. KING LEAR     I would learn that; for, by the     marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason,     I should be false persuaded I had daughters. Fool     Which they will make an obedient father. KING LEAR     Your name, fair gentlewoman? GONERIL     This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour     Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you     To understand my purposes aright:     As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.     Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;     Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,     That this our court, infected with their manners,     Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust     Make it more like a tavern or a brothel     Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak     For instant remedy: be then desired     By her, that else will take the thing she begs,     A little to disquantity your train;     And the remainder, that shall still depend,     To be such men as may besort your age,     And know themselves and you. KING LEAR     Darkness and devils!     Saddle my horses; call my train together:     Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee.     Yet have I left a daughter. GONERIL     You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble     Make servants of their betters.     Enter ALBANY KING LEAR     Woe, that too late repents,--     To ALBANY     O, sir, are you come?     Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses.     Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,     More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child     Than the sea-monster! ALBANY     Pray, sir, be patient. KING LEAR     [To GONERIL] Detested kite! thou liest.     My train are men of choice and rarest parts,     That all particulars of duty know,     And in the most exact regard support     The worships of their name. O most small fault,     How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!     That, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature     From the fix'd place; drew from heart all love,     And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!     Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,     Striking his head     And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people. ALBANY     My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant     Of what hath moved you. KING LEAR     It may be so, my lord.     Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear!     Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend     To make this creature fruitful!     Into her womb convey sterility!     Dry up in her the organs of increase;     And from her derogate body never spring     A babe to honour her! If she must teem,     Create her child of spleen; that it may live,     And be a thwart disnatured torment to her!     Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;     With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;     Turn all her mother's pains and benefits     To laughter and contempt; that she may feel     How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is     To have a thankless child! Away, away!     Exit ALBANY     Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? GONERIL     Never afflict yourself to know the cause;     But let his disposition have that scope     That dotage gives it.     Re-enter KING LEAR KING LEAR     What, fifty of my followers at a clap!     Within a fortnight! ALBANY     What's the matter, sir? KING LEAR     I'll tell thee:     To GONERIL     Life and death! I am ashamed     That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;     That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,     Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!     The untented woundings of a father's curse     Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,     Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,     And cast you, with the waters that you lose,     To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this?     Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter,     Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable:     When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails     She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find     That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think     I have cast off for ever: thou shalt,     I warrant thee.     Exeunt KING LEAR, KENT, and Attendants GONERIL     Do you mark that, my lord? ALBANY     I cannot be so partial, Goneril,     To the great love I bear you,-- GONERIL     Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho!     To the Fool     You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master. Fool     Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool     with thee.     A fox, when one has caught her,     And such a daughter,     Should sure to the slaughter,     If my cap would buy a halter:     So the fool follows after.     Exit GONERIL     This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights!     'Tis politic and safe to let him keep     At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream,     Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,     He may enguard his dotage with their powers,     And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say! ALBANY     Well, you may fear too far. GONERIL     Safer than trust too far:     Let me still take away the harms I fear,     Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart.     What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister     If she sustain him and his hundred knights     When I have show'd the unfitness,--     Re-enter OSWALD     How now, Oswald!     What, have you writ that letter to my sister? OSWALD     Yes, madam. GONERIL     Take you some company, and away to horse:     Inform her full of my particular fear;     And thereto add such reasons of your own     As may compact it more. Get you gone;     And hasten your return.     Exit OSWALD     No, no, my lord,     This milky gentleness and course of yours     Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,     You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom     Than praised for harmful mildness. ALBANY     How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell:     Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. GONERIL     Nay, then-- ALBANY     Well, well; the event.     Exeunt SCENE V - Court before the same     Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool KING LEAR     Go you before to Gloucester with these letters.     Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you     know than comes from her demand out of the letter.     If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you. KENT     I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered     your letter.     Exit Fool     If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in     danger of kibes? KING LEAR     Ay, boy. Fool     Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go     slip-shod. KING LEAR     Ha, ha, ha! Fool     Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly;     for though she's as like this as a crab's like an     apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. KING LEAR     Why, what canst thou tell, my boy? Fool     She will taste as like this as a crab does to a     crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i'     the middle on's face? KING LEAR     No. Fool     Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that     what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into. KING LEAR     I did her wrong-- Fool     Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? KING LEAR     No. Fool     Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house. KING LEAR     Why? Fool     Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his     daughters, and leave his horns without a case. KING LEAR     I will forget my nature. So kind a father! Be my     horses ready? Fool     Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the     seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason. KING LEAR     Because they are not eight? Fool     Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool. KING LEAR     To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude! Fool     If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten     for being old before thy time. KING LEAR     How's that? Fool     Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst     been wise. KING LEAR     O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven     Keep me in temper: I would not be mad!     Enter Gentleman     How now! are the horses ready? Gentleman     Ready, my lord. KING LEAR     Come, boy. Fool     She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,     Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.     Exeunt

Continue on to Act II Return to the Table of Contents
Return to the Shakespeare Table of Contents
Return to List of Authors and Books