REGAN.I speak in understanding; y’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 handThan 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 showWhat party I do follow.
REGAN.Fare thee well.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE VI. The country near Dover
Enter Gloucester, and Edgar dressed like a peasant.
GLOUCESTER.When shall I 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 imperfectBy your eyes’ anguish.
GLOUCESTER.So may it be indeed.Methinks thy voice is alter’d; and thou speak’stIn better phrase and matter than thou didst.
EDGAR.Y’are much deceiv’d: in nothing am I chang’dBut in my garments.
GLOUCESTER.Methinks you’re better spoken.
EDGAR.Come on, sir; here’s the place. Stand still. How fearfulAnd dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low!The crows and choughs that wing the midway airShow scarce so gross as beetles. Half way downHangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade!Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.The fishermen that walk upon the beachAppear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,Diminish’d to her cock; her cock a buoyAlmost too small for sight: the murmuring surgeThat on th’unnumber’d idle pebble chafesCannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more;Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sightTopple down headlong.
GLOUCESTER.Set me where you stand.
EDGAR.Give me your hand.You are now within a foot of th’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 jewelWell worth a poor man’s taking. Fairies and godsProsper it with thee! Go thou further off;Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
EDGAR.Now fare ye well, good sir.
[_Seems to go._]
GLOUCESTER.With all my heart.
EDGAR.[_Aside._] Why I do trifle thus with his despairIs done to cure it.
GLOUCESTER.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 fallTo quarrel with your great opposeless wills,My snuff and loathed part of nature shouldBurn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!Now, fellow, fare thee well.
EDGAR.Gone, sir, farewell.
[_Gloucester leaps, and falls along_]
And yet I know not how conceit may robThe treasury of life when life itselfYields 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 altitudeWhich thou hast perpendicularly fell.Thy life is 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-gorg’d lark so farCannot be seen or heard. Do but look up.
GLOUCESTER.Alack, I have no eyes.Is wretchedness depriv’d that benefitTo end itself by death? ’Twas yet some comfortWhen misery could beguile the tyrant’s rageAnd 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 thatWhich parted from you?
GLOUCESTER.A poor unfortunate beggar.
EDGAR.As I stood here below, methought his eyesWere two full moons; he had a thousand noses,Horns whelk’d and waved like the enraged sea.It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,Think that the clearest gods, who make them honoursOf men’s impossibilities, have preserv’d thee.
GLOUCESTER.I do remember now: henceforth I’ll bearAffliction 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 Lear, fantasticallydressed up with flowers.
The safer sense will ne’er accommodateHis master thus.
LEAR.No, they cannot touch me for coining. I am the King himself.
EDGAR.O thou side-piercing sight!
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’syard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace, this piece of toasted cheesewill 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.
LEAR.Pass.
GLOUCESTER.I know that voice.
LEAR.Ha! Goneril with a white beard! They flattered me like a dog; and toldme I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say‘ay’ and ‘no’ to everything I said ‘ay’and ‘no’ to was no good divinity. When the rain came to wetme once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would notpeace 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 everything;’tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
GLOUCESTER.The trick of that voice I do well remember:Is’t not the 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 flyDoes lecher in my sight. Let copulation thrive;For Gloucester’s bastard son was kinder to his fatherThan my daughters got ’tween the lawful sheets.To’t, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.Behold yond simp’ring dame,Whose face between her forks presages snow;That minces virtue, and does shake the headTo hear of pleasure’s name.The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to’t with a more riotousappetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women allabove. But to the girdle do the gods inherit, beneath is all thefiend’s; there’s hell, there’s darkness, there is the sulphurous pit;burning, scalding, stench,consumption. Fie, fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, goodapothecary, to sweeten my imagination. There’s money for thee.
GLOUCESTER.O, let me kiss that hand!
LEAR.Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
GLOUCESTER.O ruin’d piece of nature, this great worldShall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me?
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.
LEAR.Read.
GLOUCESTER.What, with the case of eyes?
LEAR.O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no moneyin your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in alight, yet you see how this world goes.
GLOUCESTER.I see it feelingly.
LEAR.What, art mad? A man may see how the world goes with no eyes.Look with thine ears. See how yon justice rails upon yon simplethief. Hark, in thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, whichis the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a farmer’sdog bark at a beggar?
GLOUCESTER.Ay, sir.
LEAR.And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst beholdthe 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 lusts to use her in that kindFor which thou whipp’st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.Through tatter’d clothes great 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 pygmy’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 powerTo seal the accuser’s lips. Get thee glass eyes,And like a scurvy politician, seemTo 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!
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 airWe wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark.
GLOUCESTER.Alack, alack the day!
LEAR.When we are born, we cry that we are comeTo this great stage of fools. This a good block:It were a delicate stratagem to shoeA troop of horse with felt. I’ll put’t in proofAnd when I have stol’n upon these son-in-laws,Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!
Enter a Gentleman withAttendants.
GENTLEMAN.O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir,Your most dear daughter—
LEAR.No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am evenThe 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 anything.
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 for laying autumn’s dust.
GENTLEMAN.Good sir.
LEAR.I will die bravely, like a smug 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.
LEAR.Then there’s life in’t. Come, and you get it,You shall get it by 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 daughterWho redeems nature from the general curseWhich 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.Everyone 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 descryStands 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 mov’d 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 againTo 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 heavenTo boot, and boot.
Enter Oswald.
OSWALD.A proclaim’d prize! Most happy!That eyeless head of thine was first fram’d fleshTo raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,Briefly thyself remember. The sword is outThat must destroy thee.
GLOUCESTER.Now let thy friendly handPut strength enough to’t.
[_Edgar interposes._]
OSWALD.Wherefore, bold peasant,Dar’st thou support a publish’d traitor? Hence;Lest that th’infection of his fortune takeLike hold on thee. Let go his arm.
EDGAR.Chill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion.
OSWALD.Let go, slave, or thou diest!
EDGAR.Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volke pass. An chud ha’bin zwaggered out of my life, ’twould not ha’ bin zo longas ’tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’old man; keepout, che vor ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be theharder: chill be plain with you.
OSWALD.Out, dunghill!
EDGAR.Chill 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 meTo Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him outUpon the British party. O, untimely death!
[_Dies._]
EDGAR.I know thee well. A serviceable villain,As duteous to the vices of thy mistressAs 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 ofMay be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorryHe had no other deathsman. Let us see:Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not.To know our enemies’ minds, we rip their hearts,Their papers is more lawful.[_Reads._] ‘Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have manyopportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and placewill be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done if he return theconqueror: then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from theloathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for yourlabour. ‘Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, ‘Goneril.’O indistinguish’d space of woman’s will!A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life,And the exchange my brother! Here in the sandsThee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctifiedOf murderous lechers: and in the mature time,With this ungracious paper strike the sightOf the death-practis’d Duke: for him ’tis wellThat of thy death and business I can tell.
[_Exit Edgar, dragging out the body._]
GLOUCESTER.The King is mad: how stiff is my vile sense,That I stand up, and have ingenious feelingOf my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:So should my thoughts be sever’d from my griefs,And woes by wrong imaginations loseThe knowledge of themselves.
[_A drum afar off._]
EDGAR.Give me your hand.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, softmusic playing; Physician, Gentleman and othersattending.
Enter Cordelia and Kent.
CORDELIA.O thou good Kent, how shall I live and workTo match thy goodness? My life will be too short,And every measure fail me.
KENT.To be acknowledg’d, 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 prythee put them off.
KENT.Pardon, dear madam;Yet to be known shortens my made intent.My boon I make it that you know me notTill time and I think meet.
CORDELIA.Then be’t so, my good lord. [_To the Physician._] How does the King?
PHYSICIAN.Madam, sleeps still.
CORDELIA.O you kind gods,Cure this great breach in his abused nature!The untun’d and jarring senses, O, wind upOf this child-changed father.
PHYSICIAN.So please your majestyThat we may wake the King: he hath slept long.
CORDELIA.Be govern’d by your knowledge, and proceedI’ the sway of your own will. Is he array’d?
PHYSICIAN.Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleepWe put fresh garments on him.Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;I doubt not of his temperance.
CORDELIA.Very well.
PHYSICIAN.Please you draw near. Louder the music there!
CORDELIA.O my dear father! Restoration hangThy medicine on my lips; and let this kissRepair those violent harms that my two sistersHave in thy reverence made!
KENT.Kind and dear princess!
CORDELIA.Had you not been their father, these white flakesDid challenge pity of them. Was this a faceTo be oppos’d against the warring winds?To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?In the most terrible and nimble strokeOf quick cross lightning? to watch, poor perdu!With this thin helm? Mine enemy’s dog,Though he had bit me, should have stood that nightAgainst my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlornIn short and musty straw? Alack, alack!’Tis wonder that thy life and wits at onceHad not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.
PHYSICIAN.Madam, do you; ’tis fittest.
CORDELIA.How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
LEAR.You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave.Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am boundUpon a wheel of fire, that mine own tearsDo scald like molten lead.
CORDELIA.Sir, do you know me?
LEAR.You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?
CORDELIA.Still, still, far wide!
PHYSICIAN.He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.
LEAR.Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?I am mightily abus’d. 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 assur’dOf my condition!
CORDELIA.O, look upon me, sir,And hold your hands in benediction o’er me.No, sir, you must not kneel.
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 ignorantWhat place this is; and all the skill I haveRemembers not these garments; nor I know notWhere I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;For, as I am a man, I think this ladyTo be my child Cordelia.
CORDELIA.And so I am. I am.
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 sistersHave, as I do remember, done me wrong.You have some cause, they have not.
CORDELIA.No cause, no cause.
LEAR.Am I in France?
KENT.In your own kingdom, sir.
LEAR.Do not abuse me.
PHYSICIAN.Be comforted, good madam, the great rage,You see, is kill’d in him: and yet it is dangerTo make him even o’er the time he has lost.Desire him to go in; trouble him no moreTill further settling.
CORDELIA.Will’t please your highness walk?
LEAR.You must bear with me:Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.
[_Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician and Attendants._]
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 Kentin Germany.
KENT.Report is changeable. ’Tis time to look about; the powers ofthe 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._]
ACT V
SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces near Dover
Enter, with drum and colours Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers andothers.
EDMUND.Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold,Or whether since he is advis’d by aughtTo change the course, he’s full of alterationAnd self-reproving, bring his constant pleasure.
[_To an Officer, who goes out._]
REGAN.Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.
EDMUND.’Tis to be doubted, madam.
REGAN.Now, sweet lord,You know the goodness I intend upon you:Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth,Do you not love my sister?
EDMUND.In honour’d love.
REGAN.But have you never found my brother’s wayTo the forfended place?
EDMUND.That thought abuses you.
REGAN.I am doubtful that you have been conjunctAnd bosom’d with her, as far as we call hers.
EDMUND.No, by mine honour, madam.
REGAN.I never shall endure her, dear my lord,Be not familiar with her.
EDMUND.Fear not,She and the Duke her husband!
Enter with drum and colours Albany, Goneril and Soldiers.
GONERIL.[_Aside._] I had rather lose the battle than that sisterShould loosen him and me.
ALBANY.Our very loving sister, well be-met.Sir, this I heard: the King is come to his daughter,With others whom the rigour of our stateForc’d to cry out. Where I could not be honest,I never yet was valiant. For this business,It toucheth us as France invades our land,Not bolds the King, with others whom I fearMost just and heavy causes make oppose.
EDMUND.Sir, you speak nobly.
REGAN.Why is this reason’d?
GONERIL.Combine together ’gainst the enemy;For these domestic and particular broilsAre not the question here.
ALBANY.Let’s, then, determine with the ancient of warOn our proceeding.
EDMUND.I shall attend you presently at your tent.
REGAN.Sister, you’ll go with us?
GONERIL.No.
REGAN.’Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us.
GONERIL.[_Aside_.] O, ho, I know the riddle. I will go.
[_Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, Officers, Soldiers and Attendants._]
As they are going out, enter Edgar disguised.
EDGAR.If e’er your grace had speech with man so poor,Hear me one word.
ALBANY.I’ll overtake you. Speak.
EDGAR.Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.If you have victory, let the trumpet soundFor him that brought it: wretched though I seem,I can produce a champion that will proveWhat is avouched there. If you miscarry,Your business of the world hath so an end,And machination ceases. Fortune love you!
ALBANY.Stay till I have read the letter.
EDGAR.I was forbid it.When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,And I’ll appear again.
ALBANY.Why, fare thee well. I will o’erlook thy paper.
[_Exit Edgar._]
Enter Edmund.
EDMUND.The enemy’s in view; draw up your powers.Here is the guess of their true strength and forcesBy diligent discovery; but your hasteIs now urg’d on you.
ALBANY.We will greet the time.
[_Exit._]
EDMUND.To both these sisters have I sworn my love;Each jealous of the other, as the stungAre of the adder. Which of them shall I take?Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enjoy’d,If both remain alive. To take the widowExasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;And hardly shall I carry out my side,Her husband being alive. Now, then, we’ll useHis countenance for the battle; which being done,Let her who would be rid of him deviseHis speedy taking off. As for the mercyWhich he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,The battle done, and they within our power,Shall never see his pardon: for my stateStands on me to defend, not to debate.
[_Exit._]
SCENE II. A field between the two Camps
Alarum within. Enter with drum and colours, Lear, Cordelia and theirForces, and exeunt.
Enter Edgar and Gloucester.
EDGAR.Here, father, take the shadow of this treeFor your good host; pray that the right may thrive:If ever I return to you again,I’ll bring you comfort.
GLOUCESTER.Grace go with you, sir!
[_Exit Edgar._]
Alarum and retreat within. Enter Edgar.
EDGAR.Away, old man, give me thy hand, away!King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta’en:Give me thy hand; come on!
GLOUCESTER.No further, sir; a man may rot even here.
EDGAR.What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endureTheir going hence, even as their coming hither;Ripeness is all. Come on.
GLOUCESTER.And that’s true too.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE III. The British Camp near Dover
Enter in conquest with drum and colours, Edmund, Lear and Cordeliaas prisoners; Officers, Soldiers, &c.
EDMUND.Some officers take them away: good guardUntil their greater pleasures first be knownThat are to censure them.
CORDELIA.We are not the firstWho with best meaning have incurr’d the worst.For thee, oppressed King, I am cast down;Myself could else out-frown false fortune’s frown.Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?
LEAR.No, no, no, no. Come, let’s away to prison:We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage:When thou dost ask me blessing I’ll kneel downAnd ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live,And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laughAt gilded butterflies, and hear poor roguesTalk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too,Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out;And take upon’s the mystery of things,As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out,In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great onesThat ebb and flow by the moon.
EDMUND.Take them away.
LEAR.Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven,And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes;The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell,Ere they shall make us weep!We’ll see ’em starve first: come.
[_Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded._]
EDMUND.Come hither, captain, hark.Take thou this note [_giving a paper_]; go follow them to prison.One step I have advanc’d thee; if thou dostAs this instructs thee, thou dost make thy wayTo noble fortunes: know thou this, that menAre as the time is; to be tender-mindedDoes not become a sword. Thy great employmentWill not bear question; either say thou’lt do’t,Or thrive by other means.
CAPTAIN.I’ll do’t, my lord.
EDMUND.About it; and write happy when thou hast done.Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it soAs I have set it down.
CAPTAIN.I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats;If it be man’s work, I’ll do’t.
[_Exit._]
Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril,Regan, Officers and Attendants.
ALBANY.Sir, you have show’d today your valiant strain,And fortune led you well: you have the captivesWho were the opposites of this day’s strife:I do require them of you, so to use themAs we shall find their merits and our safetyMay equally determine.
EDMUND.Sir, I thought it fitTo send the old and miserable KingTo some retention and appointed guard;Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,To pluck the common bosom on his side,And turn our impress’d lances in our eyesWhich do command them. With him I sent the queen;My reason all the same; and they are readyTomorrow, or at further space, to appearWhere you shall hold your session. At this timeWe sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;And the best quarrels in the heat are curs’dBy those that feel their sharpness.The question of Cordelia and her fatherRequires a fitter place.
ALBANY.Sir, by your patience,I hold you but a subject of this war,Not as a brother.
REGAN.That’s as we list to grace him.Methinks our pleasure might have been demandedEre you had spoke so far. He led our powers;Bore the commission of my place and person;The which immediacy may well stand upAnd call itself your brother.
GONERIL.Not so hot:In his own grace he doth exalt himself,More than in your addition.
REGAN.In my rights,By me invested, he compeers the best.
ALBANY.That were the most, if he should husband you.
REGAN.Jesters do oft prove prophets.
GONERIL.Holla, holla!That eye that told you so look’d but asquint.
REGAN.Lady, I am not well; else I should answerFrom a full-flowing stomach. General,Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine:Witness the world that I create thee hereMy lord and master.
GONERIL.Mean you to enjoy him?
ALBANY.The let-alone lies not in your good will.
EDMUND.Nor in thine, lord.
ALBANY.Half-blooded fellow, yes.
REGAN.[_To Edmund._] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.
ALBANY.Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I arrest theeOn capital treason; and, in thine arrest,This gilded serpent. [_pointing to Goneril._]For your claim, fair sister,I bar it in the interest of my wife;’Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,And I her husband contradict your bans.If you will marry, make your loves to me,My lady is bespoke.
GONERIL.An interlude!
ALBANY.Thou art arm’d, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound:If none appear to prove upon thy personThy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,There is my pledge. [_Throwing down a glove._]I’ll make it on thy heart,Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing lessThan I have here proclaim’d thee.
REGAN.Sick, O, sick!
GONERIL.[_Aside._] If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine.
EDMUND.There’s my exchange. [_Throwing down a glove._]What in the world he isThat names me traitor, villain-like he lies.Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,On him, on you, who not? I will maintainMy truth and honour firmly.
ALBANY.A herald, ho!
Enter a Herald.
Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,All levied in my name, have in my nameTook their discharge.
REGAN.My sickness grows upon me.
ALBANY.She is not well. Convey her to my tent.
[_Exit Regan, led._]
Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet soundAnd read out this.
OFFICER.Sound, trumpet!
[_A trumpet sounds._]
HERALD.[_Reads._] ‘If any man of quality or degree within the lists ofthe army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester,that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third soundof the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.’
EDMUND.Sound!
[_First trumpet._]
HERALD.Again!
[_Second trumpet._]
HERALD.Again!
Third trumpet. Trumpet answers within. Enter Edgar, armed, preceded bya trumpet.
ALBANY.Ask him his purposes, why he appearsUpon this call o’ the trumpet.
HERALD.What are you?Your name, your quality? and why you answerThis present summons?
EDGAR.Know my name is lost;By treason’s tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit.Yet am I noble as the adversaryI come to cope.
ALBANY.Which is that adversary?
EDGAR.What’s he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?
EDMUND.Himself, what say’st thou to him?
EDGAR.Draw thy sword,That if my speech offend a noble heart,Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,My oath, and my profession: I protest,Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune,Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor;False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;Conspirant ’gainst this high illustrious prince;And, from the extremest upward of thy headTo the descent and dust beneath thy foot,A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou ‘No,’This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bentTo prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,Thou liest.
EDMUND.In wisdom I should ask thy name;But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,What safe and nicely I might well delayBy rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn.Back do I toss those treasons to thy head,With the hell-hated lie o’erwhelm thy heart;Which for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,This sword of mine shall give them instant way,Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak!
[_Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls._]
ALBANY.Save him, save him!
GONERIL.This is mere practice, Gloucester:By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answerAn unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish’d,But cozen’d and beguil’d.
ALBANY.Shut your mouth, dame,Or with this paper shall I stop it. Hold, sir;Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil.No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.
[_Gives the letter to Edmund._]
GONERIL.Say if I do, the laws are mine, not thine:Who can arraign me for’t?
[_Exit._]
ALBANY.Most monstrous! O!Know’st thou this paper?
EDMUND.Ask me not what I know.
ALBANY.[_To an Officer, who goes out._] Go after her; she’s desperate;govern her.
EDMUND.What you have charg’d me with, that have I done;And more, much more; the time will bring it out.’Tis past, and so am I. But what art thouThat hast this fortune on me? If thou’rt noble,I do forgive thee.
EDGAR.Let’s exchange charity.I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;If more, the more thou hast wrong’d me.My name is Edgar and thy father’s son.The gods are just, and of our pleasant vicesMake instruments to plague us:The dark and vicious place where thee he gotCost him his eyes.
EDMUND.Thou hast spoken right, ’tis true;The wheel is come full circle; I am here.
ALBANY.Methought thy very gait did prophesyA royal nobleness. I must embrace thee.Let sorrow split my heart if ever IDid hate thee or thy father.
EDGAR.Worthy prince, I know’t.
ALBANY.Where have you hid yourself?How have you known the miseries of your father?
EDGAR.By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale;And when ’tis told, O that my heart would burst!The bloody proclamation to escapeThat follow’d me so near,—O, our lives’ sweetness!That with the pain of death we’d hourly dieRather than die at once!—taught me to shiftInto a madman’s rags; t’assume a semblanceThat very dogs disdain’d; and in this habitMet I my father with his bleeding rings,Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,Led him, begg’d for him, sav’d him from despair;Never,—O fault!—reveal’d myself unto himUntil some half hour past, when I was arm’d;Not sure, though hoping of this good success,I ask’d his blessing, and from first to lastTold him my pilgrimage. But his flaw’d heart,Alack, too weak the conflict to support!’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,Burst smilingly.
EDMUND.This speech of yours hath mov’d me,And shall perchance do good, but speak you on;You look as you had something more to say.
ALBANY.If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;For I am almost ready to dissolve,Hearing of this.
EDGAR.This would have seem’d a periodTo such as love not sorrow; but another,To amplify too much, would make much more,And top extremity.Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a manWho, having seen me in my worst estate,Shunn’d my abhorr’d society; but then findingWho ’twas that so endur’d, with his strong armsHe fastened on my neck, and bellow’d outAs he’d burst heaven; threw him on my father;Told the most piteous tale of Lear and himThat ever ear receiv’d, which in recountingHis grief grew puissant, and the strings of lifeBegan to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded,And there I left him tranc’d.
ALBANY.But who was this?
EDGAR.Kent, sir, the banish’d Kent; who in disguiseFollow’d his enemy king and did him serviceImproper for a slave.
Enter a Gentleman hastily,with a bloody knife.
GENTLEMAN.Help, help! O, help!
EDGAR.What kind of help?
ALBANY.Speak, man.
EDGAR.What means this bloody knife?
GENTLEMAN.’Tis hot, it smokes;It came even from the heart of—O! she’s dead!
ALBANY.Who dead? Speak, man.
GENTLEMAN.Your lady, sir, your lady; and her sisterBy her is poisoned; she hath confesses it.
EDMUND.I was contracted to them both, all threeNow marry in an instant.
EDGAR.Here comes Kent.
Enter Kent.
ALBANY.Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead.This judgement of the heavens that makes us trembleTouches us not with pity. O, is this he?The time will not allow the complimentWhich very manners urges.
KENT.I am comeTo bid my King and master aye good night:Is he not here?
ALBANY.Great thing of us forgot!Speak, Edmund, where’s the King? and where’s Cordelia?
The bodies of Goneril andRegan are brought in.
Seest thou this object, Kent?
KENT.Alack, why thus?
EDMUND.Yet Edmund was belov’d.The one the other poisoned for my sake,And after slew herself.
ALBANY.Even so. Cover their faces.
EDMUND.I pant for life. Some good I mean to do,Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writIs on the life of Lear and on Cordelia;Nay, send in time.
ALBANY.Run, run, O, run!
EDGAR.To who, my lord? Who has the office? SendThy token of reprieve.
EDMUND.Well thought on: take my sword,Give it the captain.
EDGAR.Haste thee for thy life.
[_Exit Edgar._]
EDMUND.He hath commission from thy wife and meTo hang Cordelia in the prison, andTo lay the blame upon her own despair,That she fordid herself.
ALBANY.The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.
[_Edmund is borne off._]
Enter Lear with Cordelia dead in his arms; Edgar,Officer and others following.
LEAR.Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone.Had I your tongues and eyes, I’ld use them soThat heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone for ever!I know when one is dead, and when one lives;She’s dead as earth. Lend me a looking glass;If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,Why, then she lives.
KENT.Is this the promis’d end?
EDGAR.Or image of that horror?
ALBANY.Fall, and cease!
LEAR.This feather stirs; she lives! If it be so,It is a chance which does redeem all sorrowsThat ever I have felt.
KENT.O, my good master! [_Kneeling._]
LEAR.Prythee, away!
EDGAR.’Tis noble Kent, your friend.
LEAR.A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!I might have sav’d her; now she’s gone for ever!Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!What is’t thou say’st? Her voice was ever soft,Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.I kill’d the slave that was a-hanging thee.
OFFICER.’Tis true, my lords, he did.
LEAR.Did I not, fellow?I have seen the day, with my good biting falchionI would have made them skip. I am old now,And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you?Mine eyes are not o’ the best, I’ll tell you straight.
KENT.If Fortune brag of two she lov’d and hated,One of them we behold.
LEAR.This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?
KENT.The same,Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?
LEAR.He’s a good fellow, I can tell you that;He’ll strike, and quickly too:. He’s dead and rotten.
KENT.No, my good lord; I am the very man.
LEAR.I’ll see that straight.
KENT.That from your first of difference and decayHave follow’d your sad steps.
LEAR.You are welcome hither.
KENT.Nor no man else. All’s cheerless, dark and deadly.Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves,And desperately are dead.
LEAR.Ay, so I think.
ALBANY.He knows not what he says; and vain is itThat we present us to him.
EDGAR.Very bootless.
Enter an Officer.
OFFICER.Edmund is dead, my lord.
ALBANY.That’s but a trifle here.You lords and noble friends, know our intent.What comfort to this great decay may comeShall be applied. For us, we will resign,During the life of this old majesty,To him our absolute power;[_to Edgar and Kent_] you to your rights;With boot and such addition as your honoursHave more than merited. All friends shall tasteThe wages of their virtue and all foesThe cup of their deservings. O, see, see!
LEAR.And my poor fool is hang’d! No, no, no life!Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more,Never, never, never, never, never!Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.Do you see this? Look on her: look, her lips,Look there, look there!
[_He dies._]
EDGAR.He faints! My lord, my lord!
KENT.Break, heart; I prythee break!
EDGAR.Look up, my lord.
KENT.Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! He hates himThat would upon the rack of this rough worldStretch him out longer.
EDGAR.He is gone indeed.
KENT.The wonder is, he hath endur’d so long:He but usurp’d his life.
ALBANY.Bear them from hence. Our present businessIs general woe. [_To Edgar and Kent._] Friends of my soul, you twain,Rule in this realm and the gor’d state sustain.
KENT.I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;My master calls me, I must not say no.
EDGAR.The weight of this sad time we must obey;Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.The oldest hath borne most; we that are youngShall never see so much, nor live so long.
[_Exeunt with a dead march._]