King lear, p.9
King Lear, page 9
nor fools.
LEAR Rumble thy bellyful! Spit fire! Spout rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with16 unkindness:
I never gave you kingdom, called you children;
You owe me no subscription18. Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man:
But yet I call you servile ministers21,
That will with two pernicious22 daughters join
Your high-engendered battles gainst a head23
So old and white as this. O, ho, ’tis foul24!
FOOL He that has a house to put’s25 head in has a good
head-piece26:
Sings
The codpiece that will house27
Before the head has any28,
The head and he shall louse29,
So beggars marry many30.
The man that makes his toe31
What he his heart should make
Shall of a corn33 cry woe,
And turn his sleep to wake.
For there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths35
in a glass.
Enter Kent
Disguised as Caius
LEAR No, I will be the pattern of all patience:
I will say nothing.
KENT Who’s there?
FOOL Marry, here’s grace and a codpiece40: that’s a wise
man and a fool.
KENT Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love night
Love not such nights as these: the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark44
And make them keep their caves. Since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard: man’s nature cannot carry
Th’affliction nor the fear.
LEAR Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pudder51 o’er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulgèd crimes
Unwhipped of54 justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand,
Thou perjured, and thou simular55 of virtue
That art incestuous: caitiff56, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming57
Has practised on58 man’s life: close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents and cry59
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
More sinned against than sinning.
KENT Alack, bare-headed?
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel:
Some friendship will it lend you gainst the tempest.
Repose you there while I to this hard house65 —
More harder than the stones whereof ’tis raised,
Which even but now, demanding67 after you,
Denied me to come in — return and force
Their scanted69 courtesy.
LEAR My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? Art cold?
I am cold myself.— Where is this straw, my fellow72?
The art of our necessities is strange73,
And can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel.—
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That’s sorry yet for thee.
Sings
FOOL He that has and a little tiny wit77,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit79,
Though the rain it raineth every day.
LEAR True, boy.— Come, bring us to this hovel.
Exeunt [Lear and Kent]
FOOL This is a brave night to cool a courtesan82.
I’ll speak a prophecy ere I go:
When priests are more in word than matter84;
When brewers mar85 their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors’ tutors86;
No heretics burned, but wenches’ suitors87;
When every case in law is right88;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs91;
When usurers tell their gold i’th’field92,
And bawds93 and whores do churches build,
Then shall the realm of Albion94
Come to great confusion95:
Then comes the time, who96 lives to see’t,
That going shall be used with feet97.
This prophecy Merlin98 shall make, for I live before his time.
Exit
Act 3 Scene 3
running scene 7
Carrying torches
Enter Gloucester and Edmund
GLOUCESTER Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural
dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity2 him,
they took from me the use of mine own house, charged me
on pain of perpetual displeasure neither to speak of him,
entreat for him, or any way sustain him.
EDMUND Most savage and unnatural.
GLOUCESTER Go to7; say you nothing. There is division between
the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I have received a
letter this night — ’tis dangerous to be spoken — I have
locked the letter in my closet10. These injuries the king now
bears will be revenged home; there is part of a power11 already
footed. We must incline to the king: I will look12 him and
privily relieve13 him. Go you and maintain talk with the duke,
that my charity be not of14 him perceived: if he ask for me, I
am ill and gone to bed: if I die for it — as no less is threatened
me — the king my old master must be relieved. There is
strange things toward17, Edmund: pray you be careful.
Exit
EDMUND This courtesy forbid thee18 shall the duke
Instantly know, and of that letter too:
This seems a fair deserving20 and must draw me
That which my father loses: no less than all.
The younger rises when the old doth fall.
Exit
Act 3 Scene 4
running scene 8
Enter Lear, Kent and Fool
Kent disguised as Caius
KENT Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night’s too rough
For nature3 to endure.
Storm still
LEAR Let me alone.
KENT Good my lord, enter here.
LEAR Will’t break my heart?
KENT I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.
LEAR Thou think’st ’tis much that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin so: ’tis to thee,
But where the greater malady10 is fixed
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear,
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea
Thou’dst meet the bear i’th’mouth. When the mind’s free13,
The body’s delicate14: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as17 this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to’t? But I will punish home18.
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out? Pour on, I will endure.
In such a night as this? O Regan, Goneril,
Your old kind father, whose frank22 heart gave all —
O, that way madness lies: let me shun that:
No more of that.
KENT Good my lord, enter here.
LEAR Prithee go in thyself: seek thine own ease:
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. But I’ll go in.—
To the Fool
In, boy, go first.—
You houseless poverty—
Nay, get thee in.— I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.
Exit [Fool]
Kneels
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are,
That bide32 the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides33,
Your lopped and windowed34 raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp36,
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux38 to them
And show the heavens more just.
Enter Edgar and Fool
Within the hovel
EDGAR Fathom and half, fathom and half40! Poor Tom!
FOOL Come not in here, nuncle, here’s a spirit41. Help me,
help me!
KENT Give me thy hand. Who’s there?
FOOL A spirit, a spirit: he says his name’s poor Tom.
KENT What art thou that dost grumble45 there i’th’straw?
Come forth.
Edgar comes out, disguised as a mad beggar
EDGAR Away! The foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp
hawthorn blow the winds. Hum! Go to thy bed and warm
thee.
LEAR Did’st thou give all to thy daughters? And art thou
come to this?
EDGAR Who gives anything to poor Tom? Whom the foul52
fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford
and whirlpool, o’er bog and quagmire, that hath laid knives54
under his pillow, and halters in his pew, set ratsbane55 by his
porridge, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay56 trotting-horse
over four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for57
a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom’s a-cold. O, do de, do de58, do
de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting and taking59! Do
poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there60
could I have him now — and there — and there again, and
there.
Storm still
LEAR Has his daughters brought him to this pass63?
Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give ’em all?
FOOL Nay, he reserved a blanket65, else we had been all
shamed.
LEAR Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous67 air
Hang fated o’er men’s faults68 light on thy daughters!
KENT He hath no daughters, sir.
LEAR Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature70
To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh73?
Judicious punishment! ’Twas this flesh begot
Those pelican75 daughters.
EDGAR Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill: alow, alow, loo, loo76!
FOOL This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
EDGAR Take heed o’th’foul fiend: obey78 thy parents, keep thy
word’s justice, swear not, commit not79 with man’s sworn
spouse, set not thy sweetheart on proud array80. Tom’s a-cold.
LEAR What hast thou been?
EDGAR A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that
curled my hair, wore gloves83 in my cap, served the lust of my
mistress’ heart, and did the act of darkness with her: swore
as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet
face of heaven: one that slept in86 the contriving of lust, and
waked to do it: wine loved I dearly, dice87 dearly, and in woman
out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of ear88, bloody
of hand: hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog
in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor90
the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep
thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen92
from lenders’ books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the
hawthorn blows the cold wind, says suum, mun, nonny94,
Dolphin my boy, boy sessa! Let him trot by95.
Storm still
LEAR Thou wert better in a grave than to answer96 with thy
uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more
than this? Consider him well. Thou ow’st the worm no silk,
the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume99. Ha?
Here’s three on’s are sophisticated100. Thou art the thing itself:
unaccommodated101 man is no more but such a poor bare,
forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings102! Come,
unbutton here.
Tears off his clothes
Enter Gloucester with a torch
FOOL Prithee, nuncle, be contented: ’tis a naughty104 night
to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old
lecher’s heart, a small spark, all the rest on’s body cold. Look,
here comes a walking fire107.
EDGAR This is the foul Flibbertigibbet: he begins at curfew108
and walks till the first cock: he gives the web and the pin109,
squints110 the eye and makes the hare-lip, mildews the white
wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.
Chants?
Swithold footed thrice the old112,
He met the nightmare and her nine-fold113;
Bid her alight,
And her troth plight115,
And, aroint116 thee, witch, aroint thee!
KENT How fares your grace?
LEAR What’s118 he?
KENT Who’s there? What is’t you seek?
GLOUCESTER What are you there? Your names?
EDGAR Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad,
the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water122, that in the fury of
his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for
salads, swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog124, drinks the
green mantle of the standing pool, who is whipped125 from
tithing126 to tithing, and stocked, punished and imprisoned,
who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts127 to his body:
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear,
But mice and rats and such small deer129
Have been Tom’s food for seven long year.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin131, peace, thou fiend!
GLOUCESTER What, hath your grace no better company?
EDGAR The prince of darkness is a gentleman: Modo he’s133
called, and Mahu.
To Lear
GLOUCESTER Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile135,
That it doth hate what gets136 it.
EDGAR Poor Tom’s a-cold.
GLOUCESTER Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer
T’obey in all your daughters’ hard commands:
Though their injunction be to bar my doors
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
Yet have I ventured to come seek you out
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
LEAR First let me talk with this philosopher.—
To Edgar
What is the cause of thunder?
KENT Good my lord, take his offer: go into th’house.
LEAR I’ll talk a word with this same learnèd Theban147.—
To Edgar
What is your study?
EDGAR How to prevent149 the fiend and to kill vermin.
They talk apart
LEAR Let me ask you one word in private.
To Gloucester
KENT Importune151 him once more to go, my lord:
His wits begin t’unsettle152.
GLOUCESTER Canst thou blame him?
Storm still
His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent!
He said it would be thus, poor banished man!
Thou sayest the king grows mad: I’ll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself. I had a son,
Now outlawed from my blood158: he sought my life
But lately, very late. I loved him, friend:
No father his son dearer. True to tell thee,
The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night’s this!—
To Lear
I do beseech your grace—
LEAR O, cry you mercy163, sir.—
To Edgar
Noble philosopher, your company.
EDGAR Tom’s a-cold.
To Edgar
GLOUCESTER In, fellow, there, into th’hovel: keep thee warm.
LEAR Come let’s in all.
KENT This way, my lord.
LEAR With him;
I will keep still170 with my philosopher.
To Gloucester
KENT Good my lord, soothe171 him: let him take the fellow.
To Kent
GLOUCESTER Take him you on172.
To Edgar
KENT Sirrah, come on: go along with us.
LEAR Come, good Athenian174.
GLOUCESTER No words, no words: hush.
EDGAR Child Rowland to the dark tower came176,
His word was still: fie, foh and fum,177
I smell the blood of a British man.
Exeunt
Act 3 Scene 5
running scene 9
Enter Cornwall and Edmund
CORNWALL I will have my revenge ere I depart his1 house.
EDMUND How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature2 thus
gives way to loyalty, something fears3 me to think of.
CORNWALL I now perceive it was not altogether your brother’s
evil disposition made him seek his death, but a provoking5
merit set a-work by a reprovable badness in himself.
EDMUND How malicious is my fortune — that I must repent
to be8 just! This is the letter which he spoke of Shows a letter
which approves him an intelligent party9 to the advantages of
France. O heavens! That this treason were not, or not I the
detector!
