KING LEAR by William Shakespeare 1606 Act IV

SCENE I - The heath     Enter EDGAR EDGAR     Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,     Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,     The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,     Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear:     The lamentable change is from the best;     The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,     Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!     The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst     Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here?     Enter GLOUCESTER, led by an Old Man     My father, poorly led? World, world, O world!     But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,     Lie would not yield to age. Old Man     O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and     your father's tenant, these fourscore years. GLOUCESTER     Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:     Thy comforts can do me no good at all;     Thee they may hurt. Old Man     Alack, sir, you cannot see your way. GLOUCESTER     I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;     I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen,     Our means secure us, and our mere defects     Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,     The food of thy abused father's wrath!     Might I but live to see thee in my touch,     I'ld say I had eyes again! Old Man     How now! Who's there? EDGAR     [Aside] O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at     the worst'?     I am worse than e'er I was. Old Man     'Tis poor mad Tom. EDGAR     [Aside] And worse I may be yet: the worst is not     So long as we can say 'This is the worst.' Old Man     Fellow, where goest? GLOUCESTER     Is it a beggar-man? Old Man     Madman and beggar too. GLOUCESTER     He has some reason, else he could not beg.     I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;     Which made me think a man a worm: my son     Came then into my mind; and yet my mind     Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard     more since.     As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods.     They kill us for their sport. EDGAR     [Aside] How should this be?     Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,     Angering itself and others.--Bless thee, master! GLOUCESTER     Is that the naked fellow? Old Man     Ay, my lord. GLOUCESTER     Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake,     Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,     I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;     And bring some covering for this naked soul,     Who I'll entreat to lead me. Old Man     Alack, sir, he is mad. GLOUCESTER     'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.     Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;     Above the rest, be gone. Old Man     I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,     Come on't what will.     Exit GLOUCESTER     Sirrah, naked fellow,-- EDGAR     Poor Tom's a-cold.     Aside     I cannot daub it further. GLOUCESTER     Come hither, fellow. EDGAR     [Aside] And yet I must.--Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. GLOUCESTER     Know'st thou the way to Dover? EDGAR     Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor     Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless     thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! five     fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as     Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of     stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of     mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids     and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master! GLOUCESTER     Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues     Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched     Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still!     Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,     That slaves your ordinance, that will not see     Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;     So distribution should undo excess,     And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? EDGAR     Ay, master. GLOUCESTER     There is a cliff, whose high and bending head     Looks fearfully in the confined deep:     Bring me but to the very brim of it,     And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear     With something rich about me: from that place     I shall no leading need. EDGAR     Give me thy arm:     Poor Tom shall lead thee.     Exeunt SCENE II - Before ALBANY's palace     Enter GONERIL and EDMUND GONERIL     Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband     Not met us on the way.     Enter OSWALD     Now, where's your master'? OSWALD     Madam, within; but never man so changed.     I told him of the army that was landed;     He smiled at it: I told him you were coming:     His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery,     And of the loyal service of his son,     When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot,     And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:     What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;     What like, offensive. GONERIL     [To EDMUND] Then shall you go no further.     It is the cowish terror of his spirit,     That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs     Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way     May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;     Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:     I must change arms at home, and give the distaff     Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant     Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,     If you dare venture in your own behalf,     A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;     Giving a favour     Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,     Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:     Conceive, and fare thee well. EDMUND     Yours in the ranks of death. GONERIL     My most dear Gloucester!     Exit EDMUND     O, the difference of man and man!     To thee a woman's services are due:     My fool usurps my body. OSWALD     Madam, here comes my lord.     Exit     Enter ALBANY GONERIL     I have been worth the whistle. ALBANY     O Goneril!     You are not worth the dust which the rude wind     Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:     That nature, which contemns its origin,     Cannot be border'd certain in itself;     She that herself will sliver and disbranch     From her material sap, perforce must wither     And come to deadly use. GONERIL     No more; the text is foolish. ALBANY     Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:     Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?     Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?     A father, and a gracious aged man,     Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick,     Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.     Could my good brother suffer you to do it?     A man, a prince, by him so benefited!     If that the heavens do not their visible spirits     Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,     It will come,     Humanity must perforce prey on itself,     Like monsters of the deep. GONERIL     Milk-liver'd man!     That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;     Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning     Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st     Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd     Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?     France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;     With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;     Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest     'Alack, why does he so?' ALBANY     See thyself, devil!     Proper deformity seems not in the fiend     So horrid as in woman. GONERIL     O vain fool! ALBANY     Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,     Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness     To let these hands obey my blood,     They are apt enough to dislocate and tear     Thy flesh and bones: howe'er thou art a fiend,     A woman's shape doth shield thee. GONERIL     Marry, your manhood now--     Enter a Messenger ALBANY     What news? Messenger     O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:     Slain by his servant, going to put out     The other eye of Gloucester. ALBANY     Gloucester's eye! Messenger     A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,     Opposed against the act, bending his sword     To his great master; who, thereat enraged,     Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;     But not without that harmful stroke, which since     Hath pluck'd him after. ALBANY     This shows you are above,     You justicers, that these our nether crimes     So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!     Lost he his other eye? Messenger     Both, both, my lord.     This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;     'Tis from your sister. GONERIL     [Aside] One way I like this well;     But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,     May all the building in my fancy pluck     Upon my hateful life: another way,     The news is not so tart.--I'll read, and answer.     Exit ALBANY     Where was his son when they did take his eyes? Messenger     Come with my lady hither. ALBANY     He is not here. Messenger     No, my good lord; I met him back again. ALBANY     Knows he the wickedness? Messenger     Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;     And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment     Might have the freer course. ALBANY     Gloucester, I live     To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,     And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend:     Tell me what more thou know'st.     Exeunt SCENE III - The French camp near Dover     Enter KENT and a Gentleman KENT     Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back     know you the reason? Gentleman     Something he left imperfect in the     state, which since his coming forth is thought     of; which imports to the kingdom so much     fear and danger, that his personal return was     most required and necessary. KENT     Who hath he left behind him general? Gentleman     The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. KENT     Did your letters pierce the queen to any     demonstration of grief? Gentleman     Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;     And now and then an ample tear trill'd down     Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen     Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,     Sought to be king o'er her. KENT     O, then it moved her. Gentleman     Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove     Who should express her goodliest. You have seen     Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears     Were like a better way: those happy smilets,     That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know     What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,     As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,     Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,     If all could so become it. KENT     Made she no verbal question? Gentleman     'Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father'     Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart:     Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters!     Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night?     Let pity not be believed!' There she shook     The holy water from her heavenly eyes,     And clamour moisten'd: then away she started     To deal with grief alone. KENT     It is the stars,     The stars above us, govern our conditions;     Else one self mate and mate could not beget     Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? Gentleman     No. KENT     Was this before the king return'd? Gentleman     No, since. KENT     Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town;     Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers     What we are come about, and by no means     Will yield to see his daughter. Gentleman     Why, good sir? KENT     A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,     That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her     To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights     To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting     His mind so venomously, that burning shame     Detains him from Cordelia. Gentleman     Alack, poor gentleman! KENT     Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? Gentleman     'Tis so, they are afoot. KENT     Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,     And leave you to attend him: some dear cause     Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;     When I am known aright, you shall not grieve     Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go     Along with me.     Exeunt SCENE IV - The same. A tent     Enter, with drum and colours, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers CORDELIA     Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now     As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud;     Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,     With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,     Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow     In our sustaining corn. A century send forth;     Search every acre in the high-grown field,     And bring him to our eye.     Exit an Officer     What can man's wisdom     In the restoring his bereaved sense?     He that helps him take all my outward worth. Doctor     There is means, madam:     Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,     The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,     Are many simples operative, whose power     Will close the eye of anguish. CORDELIA     All blest secrets,     All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,     Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate     In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him;     Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life     That wants the means to lead it.     Enter a Messenger Messenger     News, madam;     The British powers are marching hitherward. CORDELIA     'Tis known before; our preparation stands     In expectation of them. O dear father,     It is thy business that I go about;     Therefore great France     My mourning and important tears hath pitied.     No blown ambition doth our arms incite,     But love, dear love, and our aged father's right:     Soon may I hear and see him!     Exeunt SCENE V - Gloucester's castle     Enter REGAN and OSWALD REGAN     But are my brother's powers set forth? OSWALD     Ay, madam. REGAN     Himself in person there? OSWALD     Madam, with much ado:     Your sister is the better soldier. REGAN     Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? OSWALD     No, madam. REGAN     What might import my sister's letter to him? OSWALD     I know not, lady. REGAN     'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.     It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out,     To let him live: where he arrives he moves     All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,     In pity of his misery, to dispatch     His nighted life: moreover, to descry     The strength o' the enemy. OSWALD     I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. REGAN     Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us;     The ways are dangerous. OSWALD     I may not, madam:     My lady charged my duty in this business. REGAN     Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you     Transport her purposes by word? Belike,     Something--I know not what: I'll love thee much,     Let me unseal the letter. OSWALD     Madam, I had rather-- REGAN     I know your lady does not love her husband;     I am sure of that: and at her late being here     She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks     To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. OSWALD     I, madam? REGAN     I speak in understanding; you are; I know't:     Therefore I do advise you, take this note:     My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;     And more convenient is he for my hand     Than for your lady's: you may gather more.     If you do find him, pray you, give him this;     And when your mistress hears thus much from you,     I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.     So, fare you well.     If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,     Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. OSWALD     Would I could meet him, madam! I should show     What party I do follow. REGAN     Fare thee well.     Exeunt SCENE VI - Fields near Dover     Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant GLOUCESTER     When shall we come to the top of that same hill? EDGAR     You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. GLOUCESTER     Methinks the ground is even. EDGAR     Horrible steep.     Hark, do you hear the sea? GLOUCESTER     No, truly. EDGAR     Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect     By your eyes' anguish. GLOUCESTER     So may it be, indeed:     Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st     In better phrase and matter than thou didst. EDGAR     You're much deceived: in nothing am I changed     But in my garments. GLOUCESTER     Methinks you're better spoken. EDGAR     Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful     And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!     The crows and choughs that wing the midway air     Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down     Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!     Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:     The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,     Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,     Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy     Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,     That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,     Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more;     Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight     Topple down headlong. GLOUCESTER     Set me where you stand. EDGAR     Give me your hand: you are now within a foot     Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon     Would I not leap upright. GLOUCESTER     Let go my hand.     Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel     Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods     Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off;     Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. EDGAR     Now fare you well, good sir. GLOUCESTER     With all my heart. EDGAR     Why I do trifle thus with his despair     Is done to cure it. GLOUCESTER     [Kneeling] O you mighty gods!     This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,     Shake patiently my great affliction off:     If I could bear it longer, and not fall     To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,     My snuff and loathed part of nature should     Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!     Now, fellow, fare thee well.     He falls forward EDGAR     Gone, sir: farewell.     And yet I know not how conceit may rob     The treasury of life, when life itself     Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought,     By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead?     Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak!     Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives.     What are you, sir? GLOUCESTER     Away, and let me die. EDGAR     Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,     So many fathom down precipitating,     Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;     Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.     Ten masts at each make not the altitude     Which thou hast perpendicularly fell:     Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again. GLOUCESTER     But have I fall'n, or no? EDGAR     From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.     Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so far     Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up. GLOUCESTER     Alack, I have no eyes.     Is wretchedness deprived that benefit,     To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,     When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,     And frustrate his proud will. EDGAR     Give me your arm:     Up: so. How is 't? Feel you your legs? You stand. GLOUCESTER     Too well, too well. EDGAR     This is above all strangeness.     Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that     Which parted from you? GLOUCESTER     A poor unfortunate beggar. EDGAR     As I stood here below, methought his eyes     Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,     Horns whelk'd and waved like the enridged sea:     It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father,     Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours     Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee. GLOUCESTER     I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear     Affliction till it do cry out itself     'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of,     I took it for a man; often 'twould say     'The fiend, the fiend:' he led me to that place. EDGAR     Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here?     Enter KING LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers     The safer sense will ne'er accommodate     His master thus. KING LEAR     No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the     king himself. EDGAR     O thou side-piercing sight! KING LEAR     Nature's above art in that respect. There's your     press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a     crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look,     look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted     cheese will do 't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove     it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well     flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh!     Give the word. EDGAR     Sweet marjoram. KING LEAR     Pass. GLOUCESTER     I know that voice. KING LEAR     Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! They flattered     me like a dog; and told me I had white hairs in my     beard ere the black ones were there. To say 'ay'     and 'no' to every thing that I said!--'Ay' and 'no'     too was no good divinity. When the rain came to     wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when     the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I     found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are     not men o' their words: they told me I was every     thing; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof. GLOUCESTER     The trick of that voice I do well remember:     Is 't not the king? KING LEAR     Ay, every inch a king:     When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.     I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery?     Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No:     The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly     Does lecher in my sight.     Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son     Was kinder to his father than my daughters     Got 'tween the lawful sheets.     To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.     Behold yond simpering dame,     Whose face between her forks presages snow;     That minces virtue, and does shake the head     To hear of pleasure's name;     The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't     With a more riotous appetite.     Down from the waist they are Centaurs,     Though women all above:     But to the girdle do the gods inherit,     Beneath is all the fiends';     There's hell, there's darkness, there's the     sulphurous pit,     Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie,     fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet,     good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination:     there's money for thee. GLOUCESTER     O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR     Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. GLOUCESTER     O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world     Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me? KING LEAR     I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny     at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not     love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the     penning of it. GLOUCESTER     Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. EDGAR     I would not take this from report; it is,     And my heart breaks at it. KING LEAR     Read. GLOUCESTER     What, with the case of eyes? KING LEAR     O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your     head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in     a heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you see how     this world goes. GLOUCESTER     I see it feelingly. KING LEAR     What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes     with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond     justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in     thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, which     is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen     a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? GLOUCESTER     Ay, sir. KING LEAR     And the creature run from the cur? There thou     mightst behold the great image of authority: a     dog's obeyed in office.     Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!     Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back;     Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind     For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.     Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;     Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,     And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:     Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.     None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em:     Take that of me, my friend, who have the power     To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;     And like a scurvy politician, seem     To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now:     Pull off my boots: harder, harder: so. EDGAR     O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness! KING LEAR     If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.     I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester:     Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:     Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,     We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark. GLOUCESTER     Alack, alack the day! KING LEAR     When we are born, we cry that we are come     To this great stage of fools: this a good block;     It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe     A troop of horse with felt: I'll put 't in proof;     And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,     Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!     Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants Gentleman     O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir,     Your most dear daughter-- KING LEAR     No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even     The natural fool of fortune. Use me well;     You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons;     I am cut to the brains. Gentleman     You shall have any thing. KING LEAR     No seconds? all myself?     Why, this would make a man a man of salt,     To use his eyes for garden water-pots,     Ay, and laying autumn's dust. Gentleman     Good sir,-- KING LEAR     I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What!     I will be jovial: come, come; I am a king,     My masters, know you that. Gentleman     You are a royal one, and we obey you. KING LEAR     Then there's life in't. Nay, if you get it, you     shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.     Exit running; Attendants follow Gentleman     A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,     Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter,     Who redeems nature from the general curse     Which twain have brought her to. EDGAR     Hail, gentle sir. Gentleman     Sir, speed you: what's your will? EDGAR     Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? Gentleman     Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that,     Which can distinguish sound. EDGAR     But, by your favour,     How near's the other army? Gentleman     Near and on speedy foot; the main descry     Stands on the hourly thought. EDGAR     I thank you, sir: that's all. Gentleman     Though that the queen on special cause is here,     Her army is moved on. EDGAR     I thank you, sir.     Exit Gentleman GLOUCESTER     You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me:     Let not my worser spirit tempt me again     To die before you please! EDGAR     Well pray you, father. GLOUCESTER     Now, good sir, what are you? EDGAR     A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows;     Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,     Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,     I'll lead you to some biding. GLOUCESTER     Hearty thanks:     The bounty and the benison of heaven     To boot, and boot!     Enter OSWALD OSWALD     A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!     That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh     To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,     Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out     That must destroy thee. GLOUCESTER     Now let thy friendly hand     Put strength enough to't.     EDGAR interposes OSWALD     Wherefore, bold peasant,     Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;     Lest that the infection of his fortune take     Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. EDGAR     Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. OSWALD     Let go, slave, or thou diest! EDGAR     Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk     pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life,     'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight.     Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vor     ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be     the harder: ch'ill be plain with you. OSWALD     Out, dunghill! EDGAR     Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor     your foins.     They fight, and EDGAR knocks him down OSWALD     Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse:     If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;     And give the letters which thou find'st about me     To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out     Upon the British party: O, untimely death!     Dies EDGAR     I know thee well: a serviceable villain;     As duteous to the vices of thy mistress     As badness would desire. GLOUCESTER     What, is he dead? EDGAR     Sit you down, father; rest you     Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of     May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry     He had no other death's-man. Let us see:     Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:     To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts;     Their papers, is more lawful.     Reads     'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have     many opportunities to cut him off: if your will     want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered.     There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror:     then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from     the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply     the place for your labour.     'Your--wife, so I would say--     'Affectionate servant,     'GONERIL.'     O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!     A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;     And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands,     Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified     Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time     With this ungracious paper strike the sight     Of the death practised duke: for him 'tis well     That of thy death and business I can tell. GLOUCESTER     The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense,     That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling     Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:     So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,     And woes by wrong imaginations lose     The knowledge of themselves. EDGAR     Give me your hand:     Drum afar off     Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum:     Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.     Exeunt SCENE VII. A tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed asleep,     soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending.     Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor CORDELIA     O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work,     To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,     And every measure fail me. KENT     To be acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid.     All my reports go with the modest truth;     Nor more nor clipp'd, but so. CORDELIA     Be better suited:     These weeds are memories of those worser hours:     I prithee, put them off. KENT     Pardon me, dear madam;     Yet to be known shortens my made intent:     My boon I make it, that you know me not     Till time and I think meet. CORDELIA     Then be't so, my good lord.     To the Doctor     How does the king? Doctor     Madam, sleeps still. CORDELIA     O you kind gods,     Cure this great breach in his abused nature!     The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up     Of this child-changed father! Doctor     So please your majesty     That we may wake the king: he hath slept long. CORDELIA     Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed     I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd? Gentleman     Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep     We put fresh garments on him. Doctor     Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;     I doubt not of his temperance. CORDELIA     Very well. Doctor     Please you, draw near. Louder the music there! CORDELIA     O my dear father! Restoration hang     Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss     Repair those violent harms that my two sisters     Have in thy reverence made! KENT     Kind and dear princess! CORDELIA     Had you not been their father, these white flakes     Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face     To be opposed against the warring winds?     To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?     In the most terrible and nimble stroke     Of quick, cross lightning? to watch--poor perdu!--     With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog,     Though he had bit me, should have stood that night     Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,     To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,     In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!     'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once     Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him. Doctor     Madam, do you; 'tis fittest. CORDELIA     How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? KING LEAR     You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave:     Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound     Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears     Do scald like moulten lead. CORDELIA     Sir, do you know me? KING LEAR     You are a spirit, I know: when did you die? CORDELIA     Still, still, far wide! Doctor     He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile. KING LEAR     Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?     I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity,     To see another thus. I know not what to say.     I will not swear these are my hands: let's see;     I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured     Of my condition! CORDELIA     O, look upon me, sir,     And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:     No, sir, you must not kneel. KING LEAR     Pray, do not mock me:     I am a very foolish fond old man,     Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;     And, to deal plainly,     I fear I am not in my perfect mind.     Methinks I should know you, and know this man;     Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant     What place this is; and all the skill I have     Remembers not these garments; nor I know not     Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;     For, as I am a man, I think this lady     To be my child Cordelia. CORDELIA     And so I am, I am. KING LEAR     Be your tears wet? yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:     If you have poison for me, I will drink it.     I know you do not love me; for your sisters     Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:     You have some cause, they have not. CORDELIA     No cause, no cause. KING LEAR     Am I in France? KENT     In your own kingdom, sir. KING LEAR     Do not abuse me. Doctor     Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,     You see, is kill'd in him: and yet it is danger     To make him even o'er the time he has lost.     Desire him to go in; trouble him no more     Till further settling. CORDELIA     Will't please your highness walk? KING LEAR     You must bear with me:     Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.     Exeunt all but KENT and Gentleman Gentleman     Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? KENT     Most certain, sir. Gentleman     Who is conductor of his people? KENT     As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. Gentleman     They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl     of Kent in Germany. KENT     Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the     powers of the kingdom approach apace. Gentleman     The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you     well, sir.     Exit KENT     My point and period will be throughly wrought,     Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought.     Exit

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