The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

lawyer; you gave me nothing for't: Can you make || no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an no use of nothing, nuncle?

Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.

Fool. Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to; he will not believe a fool. [To Kent. 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 counsel'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,-
Or 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 had a monopoly out, they would have part on't and ladies too, they will not let me have all 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'the middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i'the middle, and gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy back over the dirt: Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipp'd that first finds it so.

Fools had ne'er less gracel in a year; [Singing
For wise men are grown foppish;
And 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 used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy daughters thy mother: for when thou gavest them the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches,

Then they for sudden joy did weep, [Singing.
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.

Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a school-master that can teach thy fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie.

Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd. Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters are: they'll have me whipp'd for speaking true, thou❜lt have me whipp'd for lying; and, sometimes, I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind of thing, than a fool; and yet I would not be thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o'both sides, and left nothing i'the middle: Here comes one o'the parings.

03 without a figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool, thou art nothing.-Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face [To Gon.] bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,

He that keeps nor crust nor crumb,
Weary of all, shall want some.-

That's a sheal'd peascod.4

[Pointing to Lear. 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 ;5 which if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep:
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,6
Might in their working do you that offence,
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding.

Fool. For you trow, nuncle,

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by his 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 ;7 and put away these dispositions, which 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. Does any here know me?-Why this is not Lear: does Lear walk thus? speak thus ? his discernings are lethargied.-Sleeping or waking? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or

-Ha! sure 'tis not so.-Who is it that can tell me who I am?-Lear's shadow? I would learn that; for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daugh

ters.

Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.
Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman?
Gon. Come, sir;

This admiration is much o'the favours
To understand my purposes aright:
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you

As you are old and reverend, you should be wise:
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder'd, so debauch'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 desired
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,
And 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.

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,
[Striking 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 inay 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 derogate2 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.

Re-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;-Life and death! I am asham'd

That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus: [To Goneril. That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them.-Blasts and fogs upon thee!

The untented4 woundings of a father's curs
Pierce every sense about thee!--Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out;
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay.-Ha! 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 wolfish 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,

(1) The rack. (2) Degraded. (3) Falling. (4) Undressed.

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,

Gon.

Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
And hold our lives in mercy.-Oswald, I say!—
Alb. Well, you may fear too far.
Safer than trust:
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 the unfitness,-How now,
Oswald?

Have you not spoken 'gainst the duke of Cornwall?
He's coming hither; now, i'the night, i'the haste,
And Regan with him; Have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the duke of Albany?
Advise2 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
[Wounds his arm:
Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunk-
ards

Do more than this in sport.-Father! father!

Lear. To take it again perforce!-Monster in-Stop, stop! No help? gratitude!

Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time.

Lear. How's that?

Fool. Thou should'st not have been old, before thou hadst been wise.

Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet

heaven!

Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!

Enter Gentleman.

How now! Are the horses ready?

Gent. Ready, my lord.

Lear. Come, boy.

Fool. She that is maid now, and laughs at my
departure,

Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut
shorter.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

Enter Gloster, and Servants with torches.
Glo. 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 his auspicious mistress :-

Glo.

Edm. Look, sir, I bleed.
Glo.

But where is he?

Where is the villain, Edmund? Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means

he could

Glo. Pursue him, ho!-Go after.-[Exit Serv.]
By no means,-what?

Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lord-
ship;

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 the father;-Sir, in fine, Seeing how loathly opposite I stood To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm: With his prepared sword, he charges home But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits, Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter, Or whether gasted3 by the noise I made, Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your fa-Full suddenly he fled. ther; and given him notice, that the duke of Cornwall, and Regan his duchess, will be here with him to-night.

SCENE I-A court within the castle of the Earl of Gloster. Enter Edmund and Curan, meeting.

Edm. Save thee, Curan.

Edm. How comes that?

Cur. Nay, I know not: You have heard of the news abroad; I mean, the whispered 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 dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Edm. Not a word.

Cur. You may 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 queazy! 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;

Glo.

Let him fly far:
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
And found-Despatch. The noble duke my

master,
My worthy arch4 and patron, comes to-night:
By his authority I will proclaim it,
That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
He, that conceals him, death.

Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent,
And found him pights 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'd 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.
Glo.

Strong and fasten'd villain? You have now the good advantage of the night :- Would he deny his letter?--I never got him.

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 the offender. How dost, my lord? Glo. O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, is crack'd!

Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life? He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar?

Glo. O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!
Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous
knights

That tend upon my father?
Glo.

It is too bad, too bad.-
Edm.

I know not, madam:

Yes, madam, he was.

Reg. No marvel then, though he were ill affected;
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have the waste and spoil 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.
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
A child-like office.

Nor I, assure thee, Regan.

'Twas my duty, sir.

Edm.
Glo. He did bewray2 his practice 3 and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Corn. Is he pursued?

Glo.
Ay, my good lord, he is.
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.

Truly, however else.

I shall serve you, sir,

Glo. 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 Gloster, of some poize,4
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 despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business,
Which craves the instant use.

Glo.
I serve you, madam:
Your graces are right welcome. [Exeunt.
SCENE 11-Before Gloster's castle. Enter
Kent and Steward, severally.
Stew. Good dawning to thee, friend: Art of the

house?

(1) i. e. Capable of succeeding to my land.
(2) Betray. (3) Wicked purpose. (4) Weight.

Kent. Ay.

Stew. Where may we set our horses?
Kent. I'the mire.

Stew. Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me.
Kent. I love thee not.

Stew. Why, then I care not for thee.

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

Stew. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

Kent. Fellow, I know thee.

Stew. What dost thou know me for?

Kent. A knave; a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, threesuited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave; a whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldest be a || bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition.5

Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee!

Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou know'st me! Is it two days ago, since 1 tripped up thy heels, and beat thee before the king? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, the moon shines; I'll make a sop o'the moonshine of you: Draw, you whoreson cullionly barbermonger, draw. [Drawing his sword.

Stew. Away; I have nothing to do with thee. Kent. Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the king; and take Vanity6 the puppet's part, against the royalty of her father: Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks :-draw, you rascal; come your ways.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help!

Kent. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand;
you neat slave, strike.
[Beating him.
Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder!

Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and
Servants.

Edm. How now? what's the matter? Part. Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; come, I'll flesh you; come on, young master.

Glo. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here?
Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives;

He dies that strikes again: What is the matter?
Reg. The messengers from our sister and the
king.

Corn. What is your difference? speak.
Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man?

Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter, or a painter, could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two hours at the trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have
spar'd,

At suit of his grey beard,

Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!-My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted? villain into mortar, and daub (5) Titles.

(6) A character in the old moralities.
(7) Unrefined,

the wall of a jakes with him.-Spare my grey || Drew on me here.

beard, you wagtail?

Corn. Peace, sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent. Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry?

Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a
sword,

Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain,

Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards,
But Ajax is their fool.8
Corn.

Fetch forth the stocks, ho!

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend brag

gart,
We'll teach you-
Kent.
Sir, I am too old to learn:
Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king,
On whose employment I was sent to you:
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice

Which are too intrinse2 t'unloose: smooth every Against the grace and person of my master,

passion

That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege,3 affirm, and turn their halcyon4 beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following.-
A plague upon your epileptic visage !
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.5
Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow?
Glo.
How fell you out?

Say that.

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, Than I and such a knave.

Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence?

Stocking his messenger.

Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks:
As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.
Reg. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night

too.

Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so.
Reg.

Sir, being his knave, I will.
[Stocks brought out.
Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour
Our sister speaks of:-Come, bring away the stocks.
Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches,
For pilferings, and most common trespasses,
Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill,
That he's so slightly valued in his messenger,

Kent. His countenance likes me not.6
Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or Should have him thus restrain'd.

Corn.
I'll answer that.
Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs.-Put in his legs.-

[Kent is put in the stocks.

Come, my good lord; away.

[Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure,

Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
Will not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd: I'll entreat for
thee.

Kent. Pray do not, sir: I have watch'd, and
travell'd hard;

Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels:
Give you good morrow!

Glo. The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill
taken.
[Exit.
Kent. Good king, that must approve the common

saw !9

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you dis-Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
commend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: To the warm sun!
he that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain
knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I
should win your displeasure to entreat me to it.
Corn. What was the offence you gave him?
Stew.
Never any

It pleas'd the king his master, very late,
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthy'd him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter!-Nothing almost sees miracles,
But misery;-I know 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course; and shall find time
From this enormous state,-seeking to give
Losses their remedies:-All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.

Fortune, good night; smile once more; turn thy
wheel!
[He sleeps.

SCENE III-A part of the heath.
Edgar.

Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd;

Enter

(6) i. e. Pleases me not. (7) Simple or rustic.
(8) i. e. Ajax is a fool to them.
(9) Saying or proverb.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from ..., Volumen2