The Tragedy of King Lear

Scene III. The Duke of Albany's Palace

Enter Goneril and [her] Steward [Oswald].

  Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?  Osw. Ay, madam.  Gon. 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.                                                 [Horns within.]  Osw. He's coming, madam; I hear him.  Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,     You and your fellows. I'd have it come to question.     If he distaste it, let him to our sister,     Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,     Not to be overrul'd. 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 us'd     With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd.     Remember what I have said.  Osw. Very well, madam.  Gon. 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. The Duke of Albany's Palace

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 raz'd my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,     If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,     So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st,     Shall find thee full of labours.

Horns within. Enter Lear, [Knights,] and Attendants.

  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.  Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?  Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve himtruly     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.  Lear. What art thou?  Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.  Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king,thou     art poor enough. What wouldst thou?  Kent. Service.  Lear. Who wouldst thou serve?  Kent. You.  Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow?  Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which Iwould     fain call master.  Lear. What's that?  Kent. Authority.  Lear. What services canst thou do?  Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious talein     telling it and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which     ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best ofme     is diligence.  Lear. How old art thou?  Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor soold to     dote on her for anything. I have years on my backforty-eight.  Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no worseafter     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 the] Steward.

     You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?  Osw. So please you- Exit.  Lear. What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.

[Exit a Knight.] Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep.

[Enter Knight]

     How now? Where's that mongrel?  Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.  Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I call'd him?  Knight. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he wouldnot.  Lear. He would not?  Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to myjudgment     your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremoniousaffection     as you were wont. There's a great abatement of kindnessappears     as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himselfalso     and your daughter.  Lear. Ha! say'st 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 wrong'd.  Lear. Thou but rememb'rest 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.  Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you and tell my     daughter I would speak with her. [Exit Knight.] Go you, call     hither my fool.[Exit an Attendant.]

Enter [Oswald the] Steward.

     O, you, sir, you! Come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?  Osw. My lady's father.  Lear. 'My lady's father'? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog!you     slave! you cur!  Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.  Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?                                                  [Strikes him.]  Osw. I'll not be strucken, my lord.  Kent. Nor tripp'd neither, you base football player?                                            [Trips up his heels.  Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll lovethee.  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 him out.]  Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest ofthy     service. [Gives money.]

Enter Fool.

  Fool. Let me hire him too. Here's my coxcomb.                                          [Offers Kent his cap.]  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, anthou     canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch coldshortly.     There, take my coxcomb! Why, this fellow hath banish'd twoon'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!  Lear. Why, my boy?  Fool. If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombsmyself.     There's mine! beg another of thy daughters.  Lear. Take heed, sirrah- the whip.  Fool. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out,when     Lady the brach may stand by th' fire and stink.  Lear. A pestilent gall to me!  Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.  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 unfeed lawyer- you gaveme     nothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?  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.  Lear. A bitter fool!  Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter     fool and a sweet fool?  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.  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 hada     monopoly out, they would have part on't. And ladies too,they     will not let me have all the fool to myself; they'll be     snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two     crowns.  Lear. What two crowns shall they be?  Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat upthe     meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crowni'     th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine asson     thy back o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy baldcrown     when thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myselfin     this, let him be whipp'd that first finds it so.     [Sings] Fools had ne'er less grace in a year,                  For wise men are grown foppish;                They know not how their wits to wear,                  Their manners are so apish.  Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?  Fool. I have us'd it, nuncle, ever since thou mad'st thydaughters     thy mother; for when thou gav'st them the rod, and put'stdown     thine own breeches,     [Sings] 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 foolto     lie. I would fain learn to lie.  Lear. An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd.  Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They'llhave me     whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd forlying;     and sometimes I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I hadrather 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 leftnothing     i' th' middle. Here comes one o' the parings.

Enter Goneril.

  Lear. How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinksyou     are too much o' late i' th' frown.  Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to carefor     her frowning. Now thou art an O without a figure. I ambetter     than thou art now: I am a fool, thou art nothing.     [To Goneril] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So yourface     bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum!            He that keeps nor crust nor crum,            Weary of all, shall want some. -     [Points at Lear] That's a sheal'd peascod.  Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd 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     Must call discreet proceeding.  Fool. For you know, nuncle,          The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long          That it had it head bit off by it young.     So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.  Lear. Are you our daughter?  Gon. 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!  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.  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.  Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman?  Gon. This admiration, sir, is much o' th' 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 grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak     For instant remedy. Be then desir'd     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,     Which know themselves, and you.  Lear. Darkness and devils!     Saddle my horses! Call my train together!     Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee;     Yet have I left a daughter.  Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble     Make servants of their betters.

Enter Albany.

  Lear. Woe that too late repents! – 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!  Alb. Pray, sir, be patient.  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!     Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature     From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love     And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!     Beat at this gate that let thy folly in [Strikes his head.]     And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.  Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant     Of what hath mov'd you.  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 disnatur'd 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.  Alb. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?  Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause;     But let his disposition have that scope     That dotage gives it.

Enter Lear.

  Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap?     Within a fortnight?  Alb. What's the matter, sir?  Lear. I'll tell thee. [To Goneril] Life and death! I am asham'd     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!     Th' 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, is it come to this?     Let it 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 [Lear, Kent, and Attendants]  Gon. Do you mark that, my lord?  Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,     To the great love I bear you -  Gon. Pray you, content. – What, Oswald, ho!     [To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, after yourmaster!  Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! 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.  Gon. 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 pow'rs     And hold our lives in mercy. – Oswald, I say!  Alb. Well, you may fear too far.  Gon. 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 th' unfitness-

Enter [Oswald the] Steward.

     How now, Oswald?     What, have you writ that letter to my sister?  Osw. Yes, madam.  Gon. 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 it not, yet, under pardon,     You are much more at task for want of wisdom     Than prais'd for harmful mildness.  Alb. How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.     Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.  Gon. Nay then-  Alb. Well, well; th' event. Exeunt.

Scene V. Court before the Duke of Albany's Palace

Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.

  Lear. Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaintmy     daughter no further with anything you know than comes fromher     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 yourletter.Exit.  Fool. If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in dangerof     kibes?  Lear. Ay, boy.  Fool. Then I prithee be merry. Thy wit shall ne'er goslip-shod.  Lear. Ha, ha, ha!  Fool. Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; forthough     she's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell     what I can tell.  Lear. What canst tell, boy?  Fool. She'll taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou     canst tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle on's face?  Lear. No.  Fool. Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose, that whata     man cannot smell out, 'a may spy into.  Lear. I did her wrong.  Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?  Lear. No.  Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.  Lear. Why?  Fool. Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to hisdaughters,     and leave his horns without a case.  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 sevenstars     are no moe than seven is a pretty reason.  Lear. Because they are not eight?  Fool. Yes indeed. Thou wouldst make a good fool.  Lear. To tak't again perforce! Monster ingratitude!  Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten forbeing     old before thy time.  Lear. How's that?  Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst beenwise.  Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!     Keep me in temper; I would not be mad![Enter a Gentleman.]     How now? Are the horses ready?  Gent. Ready, my lord.  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 shorterExeunt

ACT II. Scene I. A court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloucester

Enter [Edmund the] Bastard and Curan, meeting.

  Edm. Save thee, Curan.  Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him     notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his Duchess willbe     here with him this night.  Edm. How comes that?  Cur. Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad- I meanthe     whisper'd ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments?  Edm. Not I. Pray you, what are they?  Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward 'twixt the twoDukes     of Cornwall and Albany?  Edm. Not a word.  Cur. You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. Exit.  Edm. The Duke be here to-night? The better! best!     This weaves itself perforce into my business.     My father hath set guard to take my brother;     And I have one thing, of a queasy question,     Which I must act. Briefness and fortune, work!     Brother, a word! Descend! Brother, I say!

Enter Edgar.

     My father watches. O sir, fly this place!     Intelligence is given where you are hid.     You have now the good advantage of the night.     Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?     He's coming hither; now, i' th' night, i' th' haste,     And Regan with him. Have you nothing said     Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?     Advise yourself.  Edg. I am sure on't, not a word.  Edm. I hear my father coming. Pardon me!     In cunning I must draw my sword upon you.     Draw, seem to defend yourself; now quit you well. -     Yield! Come before my father. Light, ho, here!     Fly, brother. – Torches, torches! – So farewell.Exit Edgar     Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion     Of my more fierce endeavour. [Stabs his arm.] I have seen        drunkards     Do more than this in sport. – Father, father! -     Stop, stop! No help?

Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.

  Glou. Now, Edmund, where's the villain?  Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,     Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon     To stand 's auspicious mistress.  Glou. But where is he?  Edm. Look, sir, I bleed.  Glou. Where is the villain, Edmund?  Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could-  Glou. Pursue him, ho! Go after. [Exeunt some Servants].     By no means what?  Edm. Persuade me to the murther of your lordship;     But that I told him the revenging gods     'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;     Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond     The child was bound to th' father- sir, in fine,     Seeing how loathly opposite I stood     To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion     With his prepared sword he charges home     My unprovided body, lanch'd mine arm;     But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,     Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to th' encounter,     Or whether gasted by the noise I made,     Full suddenly he fled.  Glou. Let him fly far.     Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;     And found- dispatch. The noble Duke my master,     My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night.     By his authority I will proclaim it     That he which find, him shall deserve our thanks,     Bringing the murderous caitiff to the stake;     He that conceals him, death.  Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent     And found him pight to do it, with curst speech     I threaten'd to discover him. He replied,     'Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think,     If I would stand against thee, would the reposal     Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee     Make thy words faith'd? No. What I should deny     (As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce     My very character), I'ld turn it all     To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice;     And thou must make a dullard of the world,     If they not thought the profits of my death     Were very pregnant and potential spurs     To make thee seek it.'  Glou. Strong and fast'ned villain!     Would he deny his letter? I never got him.                                                  Tucket within.     Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes.     All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not scape;     The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture     I will send far and near, that all the kingdom     May have due note of him, and of my land,     Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means     To make thee capable.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.

  Corn. How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither     (Which I can call but now) I have heard strange news.  Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short     Which can pursue th' offender. How dost, my lord?  Glou. O madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd!  Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life?     He whom my father nam'd? Your Edgar?  Glou. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid!  Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knights     That tend upon my father?  Glou. I know not, madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad!  Edm. Yes, madam, he was of that consort.  Reg. No marvel then though he were ill affected.     'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,     To have th' expense and waste of his revenues.     I have this present evening from my sister     Been well inform'd of them, and with such cautions     That, if they come to sojourn at my house,     I'll not be there.  Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan.     Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father     A childlike office.  Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir.  Glou. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd     This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.  Corn. Is he pursued?  Glou. Ay, my good lord.  Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more     Be fear'd of doing harm. Make your own purpose,     How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,     Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant     So much commend itself, you shall be ours.     Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;     You we first seize on.  Edm. I shall serve you, sir,     Truly, however else.  Glou. For him I thank your Grace.  Corn. You know not why we came to visit you-  Reg. Thus out of season, threading dark-ey'd night.     Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise,     Wherein we must have use of your advice.     Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,     Of differences, which I best thought it fit     To answer from our home. The several messengers     From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend,     Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow     Your needful counsel to our business,     Which craves the instant use.  Glou. I serve you, madam.     Your Graces are right welcome.Exeunt. Flourish