King Lear
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please.
EDGAR.
Well pray you, father.
GLOUCESTER.
Now, good sir, what are you?
EDGAR.
A most poor man, made tame to fortune’s blows;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I’ll lead you to some biding.
GLOUCESTER.
Hearty thanks:
The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot.
Enter Oswald.
OSWALD.
A proclaim’d prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram’d flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember. The sword is out
That must destroy thee.
GLOUCESTER.
Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to’t.
[_Edgar interposes._]
OSWALD.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar’st thou support a publish’d traitor? Hence;
Lest that th’infection of his fortune take
Like 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 long
as ’tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’old man; keep
out, che vor ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the
harder: 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 me
To Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out
Upon the British party. O, untimely death!
[_Dies._]
EDGAR.
I know thee well. A serviceable villain,
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire.
GLOUCESTER.
What, is he dead?
EDGAR.
Sit you down, father; rest you.
Let’s see these pockets; the letters that he speaks of
May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorry
He had no other 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 many
opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place
will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done if he return the
conqueror: then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the
loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your
labour. ‘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 sands
Thee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis’d Duke: for him ’tis well
That 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 feeling
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
So should my thoughts be sever’d from my griefs,
And woes by wrong imaginations lose
The knowledge of themselves.
[_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, soft
music playing; Physician, Gentleman and others
attending.
Enter Cordelia and Kent.
CORDELIA.
O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.
KENT.
To be 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 not
Till 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 up
Of this child-changed father.
PHYSICIAN.
So please your majesty
That we may wake the King: he hath slept long.
CORDELIA.
Be govern’d by your knowledge, and proceed
I’ the sway of your own will. Is he array’d?
PHYSICIAN.
Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep
We 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 hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
KENT.
Kind and dear princess!
CORDELIA.
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face
To be oppos’d against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick cross lightning? to watch, poor perdu!
With this thin helm? Mine enemy’s dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
’Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.
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 bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do 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’d
Of 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 ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
CORDELIA.
And so I am. I am.
LEAR.
Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray weep not:
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have some cause, they have not.
CORDELIA.
No cause, no cause.
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 danger
To make him even o’er the time he has lost.
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more
Till further settling.
CORDELIA.
Will’t please your highness walk?
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 Kent
in Germany.
KENT.
Report is changeable. ’Tis time to look about; the powers of
the kingdom approach apace.
GENTLEMAN.
The arbitrement is like to be bloody.
Fare you well, sir.
[_Exit._]
KENT.
My point and period will be throughly wrought,
Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.
[_Exit._]
ACT V
SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces near Dover
Enter, with drum and colours Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers and
others.
EDMUND.
Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold,
Or whether since he is advis’d by aught
To change the course, he’s full of alteration
And 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 way
To the forfended place?
EDMUND.
That thought abuses you.
REGAN.
I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
And 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 sister
Should 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 state
Forc’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 fear
Most 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 broils
Are not the question here.
ALBANY.
Let’s, then, determine with the ancient of war
On 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 sound
For him that brought it: wretched though I seem,
I can produce a champion that will prove
What 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 forces
By diligent discovery; but your haste
Is 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 stung
Are 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 widow
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being alive. Now, then, we’ll use
His countenance for the battle; which being done,
Let her who would be rid of him devise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
The battle done, and they within our power,