The Tragedy of King Lear

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, [Edmund the] Bastard, and Servants. Corn. [to Goneril] Post speedily to my lord your husband, show him this letter. The army of France is landed.- Seek out the traitor Gloucester. [Exeunt some of the Servants.] Reg. Hang him instantly. Gon. Pluck out his eyes. Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our sister company. The revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke where you are going, to a most festinate preparation. We are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister; farewell, my Lord of Gloucester. Enter [Oswald the] Steward. How now? Where's the King? Osw. My Lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence. Some five or six and thirty of his knights, Hot questrists after him, met him at gate; Who, with some other of the lord's dependants, Are gone with him towards Dover, where they boast To have well-armed friends. Corn. Get horses for your mistress. Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. Corn. Edmund, farewell. Exeunt Goneril, [Edmund, and Oswald]. Go seek the traitor Gloucester, Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. [Exeunt other Servants.] Though well we may not pass upon his life Without the form of justice, yet our power Shall do a court'sy to our wrath, which men May blame, but not control. Enter Gloucester, brought in by two or three. Who's there? the traitor? Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he. Corn. Bind fast his corky arms. Glou. What mean, your Graces? Good my friends, consider You are my guests. Do me no foul play, friends. Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him.] Reg. Hard, hard. O filthy traitor! Glou. Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none. Corn. To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find- [Regan plucks his beard.] Glou. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done To pluck me by the beard. Reg. So white, and such a traitor! Glou. Naughty lady, These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin Will quicken, and accuse thee. I am your host. With robber's hands my hospitable favours You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? Reg. Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth. Corn. And what confederacy have you with the traitors Late footed in the kingdom? Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic King? Speak. Glou. I have a letter guessingly set down, Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, And not from one oppos'd. Corn. Cunning. Reg. And false. Corn. Where hast thou sent the King? Glou. To Dover. Reg. Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at peril- Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that. Glou. I am tied to th' stake, and I must stand the course. Reg. Wherefore to Dover, sir? Glou. Because I would not see thy cruel nails Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. The sea, with such a storm as his bare head In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up And quench'd the steeled fires. Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, Thou shouldst have said, 'Good porter, turn the key.' All cruels else subscrib'd. But I shall see The winged vengeance overtake such children. Corn. See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair. Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. Glou. He that will think to live till he be old, Give me some help!- O cruel! O ye gods! Reg. One side will mock another. Th' other too! Corn. If you see vengeance- 1. Serv. Hold your hand, my lord! I have serv'd you ever since I was a child; But better service have I never done you Than now to bid you hold. Reg. How now, you dog? 1. Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, I'ld shake it on this quarrel. Reg. What do you mean? Corn. My villain! Draw and fight. 1. Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. Reg. Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus? She takes a sword and runs at him behind. 1. Serv. O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left To see some mischief on him. O! He dies. Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly! Where is thy lustre now? Glou. All dark and comfortless! Where's my son Edmund? Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature To quit this horrid act. Reg. Out, treacherous villain! Thou call'st on him that hates thee. It was he That made the overture of thy treasons to us; Who is too good to pity thee. Glou. O my follies! Then Edgar was abus'd. Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell His way to Dover. Exit [one] with Gloucester. How is't, my lord? How look you? Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt. Follow me, lady. Turn out that eyeless villain. Throw this slave Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace. Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. Exit [Cornwall, led by Regan]. 2. Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do, If this man come to good. 3. Serv. If she live long, And in the end meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters. 2. Serv. Let's follow the old Earl, and get the bedlam To lead him where he would. His roguish madness Allows itself to anything. 3. Serv. Go thou. I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs To apply to his bleeding face. Now heaven help him! Exeunt. <> ACT IV. Scene I. The heath. Enter Edgar. Edg. 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. Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Man. But who comes here? My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age. Old Man. O my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, These fourscore years. Glou. Away, get thee away! Good friend, be gone. Thy comforts can do me no good at all; Thee they may hurt. Old Man. You cannot see your way. Glou. 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. Ah 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? Edg. [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. Edg. [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? Glou. Is it a beggarman? Old Man. Madman and beggar too. Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I' th' 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 th' gods. They kill us for their sport. Edg. [aside] How should this be? Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.- Bless thee, master! Glou. Is that the naked fellow? Old Man. Ay, my lord. Glou. Then prithee get thee gone. If for my sake Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain I' th' 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! Glou. 'Tis the time's 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. Glou. Sirrah naked fellow- Edg. Poor Tom's acold. [Aside] I cannot daub it further. Glou. Come hither, fellow. Edg. [aside] And yet I must.- Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. Glou. Know'st thou the way to Dover? Edg. Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been scar'd 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! Glou. 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 does not feel, feel your pow'r quickly; So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? Edg. Ay, master. Glou. 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. Edg. Give me thy arm. Poor Tom shall lead thee. Exeunt. Scene II. Before the Duke of Albany's Palace. Enter Goneril and [Edmund the] Bastard. Gon. Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband Not met us on the way. Enter [Oswald the] Steward. Now, where's your master? Osw. Madam, within, but never man so chang'd. I told him of the army that was landed: He smil'd 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. Gon. [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 pow'rs. 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. [Gives a favour.] Spare speech. Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak, Would stretch thy spirits up into the air. Conceive, and fare thee well. Edm. Yours in the ranks of death! Exit. Gon. My most dear Gloucester! O, the difference of man and man! To thee a woman's services are due; My fool usurps my body. Osw. Madam, here comes my lord. Exit. Enter Albany. Gon. I have been worth the whistle. Alb. O Goneril, You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face! I fear your disposition. That nature which contemns it origin Cannot be bordered certain in itself. She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither And come to deadly use. Gon. No more! The text is foolish. Alb. 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. Gon. 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 state begins to threat, Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest 'Alack, why does he so?' Alb. See thyself, devil! Proper deformity seems not in the fiend So horrid as in woman. Gon. O vain fool! Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame! Bemonster 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. Gon. Marry, your manhood mew! Enter a Gentleman. Alb. What news? Gent. O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall 's dead, Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester. Alb. Gloucester's eyes? Gent. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword To his great master; who, thereat enrag'd, Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead; But not without that harmful stroke which since Hath pluck'd him after. Alb. This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes So speedily can venge! But O poor Gloucester! Lose he his other eye? Gent. Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer. 'Tis from your sister. Gon. [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. Alb. Where was his son when they did take his eyes? Gent. Come with my lady hither. Alb. He is not here. Gent. No, my good lord; I met him back again. Alb. Knows he the wickedness? Gent. Ay, my good lord. 'Twas he inform'd against him, And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course. Alb. 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? Gent. 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? Gent. The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of grief? Gent. 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 mov'd her? Gent. 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 belov'd, If all could so become it. Kent. Made she no verbal question? Gent. Faith, once or twice she heav'd 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' th' storm? i' th' night? Let pity not be believ'd!' 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? Gent. No. Kent. Was this before the King return'd? Gent. No, since. Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' th' town; Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to see his daughter. Gent. 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. Gent. Alack, poor gentleman! Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? Gent. '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 French camp. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers. Cor. 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 hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flow'rs, 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. Doct. 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. Cor. 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 Messenger. Mess. News, madam. The British pow'rs are marching hitherward. Cor. '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 ag'd father's right. Soon may I hear and see him! Exeunt. Scene V. Gloucester's Castle. Enter Regan and [Oswald the] Steward. Reg. But are my brother's pow'rs set forth? Osw. Ay, madam. Reg. Himself in person there? Osw. Madam, with much ado. Your sister is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? Osw. No, madam. Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him? Osw. I know not, lady. Reg. 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' th' enemy. Osw. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow. Stay with us. The ways are dangerous. Osw. I may not, madam. My lady charg'd my duty in this business. Reg. 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. Osw. Madam, I had rather- Reg. I know your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that; and at her late being here She gave strange eliads and most speaking looks To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. Osw. I, madam? Reg. 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 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 farewell. If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. Osw. Would I could meet him, madam! I should show What party I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well. Exeunt. Scene VI. The country near Dover.