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     The Tragedie of King Lear
     
     by William Shakespeare
     
     
     Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
     
     Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmond.
     
     Kent. I thought the King had more affected the
     Duke of Albany, then Cornwall
     
     Glou. It did alwayes seeme so to vs: But
     now in the diuision of the Kingdome, it appeares
     not which of the Dukes hee valewes
     most, for qualities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither,
     can make choise of eithers moity
     
     Kent. Is not this your Son, my Lord?
     Glou. His breeding Sir, hath bin at my charge. I haue
     so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am
     braz'd too't
     
     Kent. I cannot conceiue you
     
     Glou. Sir, this yong Fellowes mother could; wherevpon
     she grew round womb'd, and had indeede (Sir) a
     Sonne for her Cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed.
     Do you smell a fault?
     Kent. I cannot wish the fault vndone, the issue of it,
     being so proper
     
     Glou. But I haue a Sonne, Sir, by order of Law, some
     yeere elder then this; who, yet is no deerer in my account,
     though this Knaue came somthing sawcily to the
     world before he was sent for: yet was his Mother fayre,
     there was good sport at his making, and the horson must
     be acknowledged. Doe you know this Noble Gentleman,
     Edmond?
     Edm. No, my Lord
     
     Glou. My Lord of Kent:
     Remember him heereafter, as my Honourable Friend
     
     Edm. My seruices to your Lordship
     
     Kent. I must loue you, and sue to know you better
     
     Edm. Sir, I shall study deseruing
     
     Glou. He hath bin out nine yeares, and away he shall
     againe. The King is comming.
     
     Sennet. Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gonerill, Regan,
     Cordelia, and
     attendants.
     
     Lear. Attend the Lords of France & Burgundy, Gloster
     
     Glou. I shall, my Lord.
     Enter.
     
     Lear. Meane time we shal expresse our darker purpose.
     Giue me the Map there. Know, that we haue diuided
     In three our Kingdome: and 'tis our fast intent,
     To shake all Cares and Businesse from our Age,
     Conferring them on yonger strengths, while we
     Vnburthen'd crawle toward death. Our son of Cornwal,
     And you our no lesse louing Sonne of Albany,
     We haue this houre a constant will to publish
     Our daughters seuerall Dowers, that future strife
     May be preuented now. The Princes, France & Burgundy,
     Great Riuals in our yongest daughters loue,
     Long in our Court, haue made their amorous soiourne,
     And heere are to be answer'd. Tell me my daughters
     (Since now we will diuest vs both of Rule,
     Interest of Territory, Cares of State)
     Which of you shall we say doth loue vs most,
     That we, our largest bountie may extend
     Where Nature doth with merit challenge. Gonerill,
     Our eldest borne, speake first
     
     Gon. Sir, I loue you more then word can weild y matter,
     Deerer then eye-sight, space, and libertie,
     Beyond what can be valewed, rich or rare,
     No lesse then life, with grace, health, beauty, honor:
     As much as Childe ere lou'd, or Father found.
     A loue that makes breath poore, and speech vnable,
     Beyond all manner of so much I loue you
     
     Cor. What shall Cordelia speake? Loue, and be silent
     
     Lear. Of all these bounds euen from this Line, to this,
     With shadowie Forrests, and with Champains rich'd
     With plenteous Riuers, and wide-skirted Meades
     We make thee Lady. To thine and Albanies issues
     Be this perpetuall. What sayes our second Daughter?
     Our deerest Regan, wife of Cornwall?
     Reg. I am made of that selfe-mettle as my Sister,
     And prize me at her worth. In my true heart,
     I finde she names my very deede of loue:
     Onely she comes too short, that I professe
     My selfe an enemy to all other ioyes,
     Which the most precious square of sense professes,
     And finde I am alone felicitate
     In your deere Highnesse loue
     
     Cor. Then poore Cordelia,
     And yet not so, since I am sure my loue's
     More ponderous then my tongue
     
     Lear. To thee, and thine hereditarie euer,
     Remaine this ample third of our faire Kingdome,
     No lesse in space, validitie, and pleasure
     Then that conferr'd on Gonerill. Now our Ioy,
     Although our last and least; to whose yong loue,
     The Vines of France, and Milke of Burgundie,
     Striue to be interest. What can you say, to draw
     A third, more opilent then your Sisters? speake
     
     Cor. Nothing my Lord
     
     Lear. Nothing?
     Cor. Nothing
     
     Lear. Nothing will come of nothing, speake againe
     
     Cor. Vnhappie that I am, I cannot heaue
     My heart into my mouth: I loue your Maiesty
     According to my bond, no more nor lesse
     
     Lear. How, how Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,
     Least you may marre your Fortunes
     
     Cor. Good my Lord,
     You haue begot me, bred me, lou'd me.
     I returne those duties backe as are right fit,
     Obey you, Loue you, and most Honour you.
     Why haue my Sisters Husbands, if they say
     They loue you all? Happily when I shall wed,
     That Lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry
     Halfe my loue with him, halfe my Care, and Dutie,
     Sure I shall neuer marry like my Sisters
     
     Lear. But goes thy heart with this?
     Cor. I my good Lord
     
     Lear. So young, and so vntender?
     Cor. So young my Lord, and true
     
     Lear. Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dowre:
     For by the sacred radience of the Sunne,
     The misteries of Heccat and the night:
     By all the operation of the Orbes,
     From whom we do exist, and cease to be,
     Heere I disclaime all my Paternall care,
     Propinquity and property of blood,
     And as a stranger to my heart and me,
     Hold thee from this for euer. The barbarous Scythian,
     Or he that makes his generation messes
     To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosome
     Be as well neighbour'd, pittied, and releeu'd,
     As thou my sometime Daughter
     
     Kent. Good my Liege
     
     Lear. Peace Kent,
     Come not betweene the Dragon and his wrath,
     I lou'd her most, and thought to set my rest
     On her kind nursery. Hence and avoid my sight:
     So be my graue my peace, as here I giue
     Her Fathers heart from her; call France, who stirres?
     Call Burgundy, Cornwall, and Albanie,
     With my two Daughters Dowres, digest the third,
     Let pride, which she cals plainnesse, marry her:
     I doe inuest you ioyntly with my power,
     Preheminence, and all the large effects
     That troope with Maiesty. Our selfe by Monthly course,
     With reseruation of an hundred Knights,
     By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
     Make with you by due turne, onely we shall retaine
     The name, and all th' addition to a King: the Sway,
     Reuennew, Execution of the rest,
     Beloued Sonnes be yours, which to confirme,
     This Coronet part betweene you
     
     Kent. Royall Lear,
     Whom I haue euer honor'd as my King,
     Lou'd as my Father, as my Master follow'd,
     As my great Patron thought on in my praiers
     
     Le. The bow is bent & drawne, make from the shaft
     
     Kent. Let it fall rather, though the forke inuade
     The region of my heart, be Kent vnmannerly,
     When Lear is mad, what wouldest thou do old man?
     Think'st thou that dutie shall haue dread to speake,
     When power to flattery bowes?
     To plainnesse honour's bound,
     When Maiesty falls to folly, reserue thy state,
     And in thy best consideration checke
     This hideous rashnesse, answere my life, my iudgement:
     Thy yongest Daughter do's not loue thee least,
     Nor are those empty hearted, whose low sounds
     Reuerbe no hollownesse
     
     Lear. Kent, on thy life no more
     
     Kent. My life I neuer held but as pawne
     To wage against thine enemies, nere feare to loose it,
     Thy safety being motiue
     
     Lear. Out of my sight
     
     Kent. See better Lear, and let me still remaine
     The true blanke of thine eie
     
     Lear. Now by Apollo,
     Kent. Now by Apollo, King
     Thou swear'st thy Gods in vaine
     
     Lear. O Vassall! Miscreant
     
     Alb. Cor. Deare Sir forbeare
     
     Kent. Kill thy Physition, and thy fee bestow
     Vpon the foule disease, reuoke thy guift,
     Or whil'st I can vent clamour from my throate,
     Ile tell thee thou dost euill
     
     Lea. Heare me recreant, on thine allegeance heare me;
     That thou hast sought to make vs breake our vowes,
     Which we durst neuer yet; and with strain'd pride,
     To come betwixt our sentences, and our power,
     Which, nor our nature, nor our place can beare;
     Our potencie made good, take thy reward.
     Fiue dayes we do allot thee for prouision,
     To shield thee from disasters of the world,
     And on the sixt to turne thy hated backe
     Vpon our kingdome: if on the tenth day following,
     Thy banisht trunke be found in our Dominions,
     The moment is thy death, away. By Iupiter,
     This shall not be reuok'd,
     Kent. Fare thee well King, sith thus thou wilt appeare,
     Freedome liues hence, and banishment is here;
     The Gods to their deere shelter take thee Maid,
     That iustly think'st, and hast most rightly said:
     And your large speeches, may your deeds approue,
     That good effects may spring from words of loue:
     Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adew,
     Hee'l shape his old course, in a Country new.
     Enter.
     
     Flourish. Enter Gloster with France, and Burgundy, Attendants.
     
     Cor. Heere's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord
     
     Lear. My Lord of Burgundie,
     We first addresse toward you, who with this King
     Hath riuald for our Daughter; what in the least
     Will you require in present Dower with her,
     Or cease your quest of Loue?
     Bur. Most Royall Maiesty,
     I craue no more then hath your Highnesse offer'd,
     Nor will you tender lesse?
     Lear. Right Noble Burgundy,
     When she was deare to vs, we did hold her so,
     But now her price is fallen: Sir, there she stands,
     If ought within that little seeming substance,
     Or all of it with our displeasure piec'd,
     And nothing more may fitly like your Grace,
     Shee's there, and she is yours
     
     Bur. I know no answer
     
     Lear. Will you with those infirmities she owes,
     Vnfriended, new adopted to our hate,
     Dow'rd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
     Take her or, leaue her
     
     Bur. Pardon me Royall Sir,
     Election makes not vp in such conditions
     
     Le. Then leaue her sir, for by the powre that made me,
     I tell you all her wealth. For you great King,
     I would not from your loue make such a stray,
     To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you
     T' auert your liking a more worthier way,
     Then on a wretch whom Nature is asham'd
     Almost t' acknowledge hers
     
     Fra. This is most strange,
     That she whom euen but now, was your obiect,
     The argument of your praise, balme of your age,
     The best, the deerest, should in this trice of time
     Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
     So many folds of fauour: sure her offence
     Must be of such vnnaturall degree,
     That monsters it: Or your fore-voucht affection
     Fall into taint, which to beleeue of her
     Must be a faith that reason without miracle
     Should neuer plant in me
     
     Cor. I yet beseech your Maiesty.
     If for I want that glib and oylie Art,
     To speake and purpose not, since what I will intend,
     Ile do't before I speake, that you make knowne
     It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulenesse,
     No vnchaste action or dishonoured step
     That hath depriu'd me of your Grace and fauour,
     But euen for want of that, for which I am richer,
     A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue,
     That I am glad I haue not, though not to haue it,
     Hath lost me in your liking
     
     Lear. Better thou had'st
     Not beene borne, then not t'haue pleas'd me better
     
     Fra. Is it but this? A tardinesse in nature,
     Which often leaues the history vnspoke
     That it intends to do: my Lord of Burgundy,
     What say you to the Lady? Loue's not loue
     When it is mingled with regards, that stands
     Aloofe from th' intire point, will you haue her?
     She is herselfe a Dowrie
     
     Bur. Royall King,
     Giue but that portion which your selfe propos'd,
     And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
     Dutchesse of Burgundie
     
     Lear. Nothing, I haue sworne, I am firme
     
     Bur. I am sorry then you haue so lost a Father,
     That you must loose a husband
     
     Cor. Peace be with Burgundie,
     Since that respect and Fortunes are his loue,
     I shall not be his wife
     
     Fra. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poore,
     Most choise forsaken, and most lou'd despis'd,
     Thee and thy vertues here I seize vpon,
     Be it lawfull I take vp what's cast away.
     Gods, Gods! 'Tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect
     My Loue should kindle to enflam'd respect.
     Thy dowrelesse Daughter King, throwne to my chance,
     Is Queene of vs, of ours, and our faire France:
     Not all the Dukes of watrish Burgundy,
     Can buy this vnpriz'd precious Maid of me.
     Bid them farewell Cordelia, though vnkinde,
     Thou loosest here a better where to finde
     
     Lear. Thou hast her France, let her be thine, for we
     Haue no such Daughter, nor shall euer see
     That face of hers againe, therfore be gone,
     Without our Grace, our Loue, our Benizon:
     Come Noble Burgundie.
     
     Flourish. Exeunt.
     
     Fra. Bid farwell to your Sisters
     
     Cor. The Iewels of our Father, with wash'd eies
     Cordelia leaues you, I know you what you are,
     And like a Sister am most loth to call
     Your faults as they are named. Loue well our Father:
     To your professed bosomes I commit him,
     But yet alas, stood I within his Grace,
     I would prefer him to a better place,
     So farewell to you both
     
     Regn. Prescribe not vs our dutie
     
     Gon. Let your study
     Be to content your Lord, who hath receiu'd you
     At Fortunes almes, you haue obedience scanted,
     And well are worth the want that you haue wanted
     
     Cor. Time shall vnfold what plighted cunning hides,
     Who couers faults, at last with shame derides:
     Well may you prosper
     
     Fra. Come my faire Cordelia.
     
     Exit France and Cor.
     
     Gon. Sister, it is not little I haue to say,
     Of what most neerely appertaines to vs both,
     I thinke our Father will hence to night
     
     Reg. That's most certaine, and with you: next moneth with vs
     
     Gon. You see how full of changes his age is, the obseruation
     we haue made of it hath beene little; he alwaies
     lou'd our Sister most, and with what poore iudgement he
     hath now cast her off, appeares too grossely
     
     Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath euer but
     slenderly knowne himselfe
     
     Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath bin but
     rash, then must we looke from his age, to receiue not alone
     the imperfections of long ingraffed condition, but
     therewithall the vnruly way-wardnesse, that infirme and
     cholericke yeares bring with them
     
     Reg. Such vnconstant starts are we like to haue from
     him, as this of Kents banishment
     
     Gon. There is further complement of leaue-taking betweene
     France and him, pray you let vs sit together, if our
     Father carry authority with such disposition as he beares,
     this last surrender of his will but offend vs
     
     Reg. We shall further thinke of it
     
     Gon. We must do something, and i'th' heate.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Secunda.
     
     Enter Bastard.
     
     Bast. Thou Nature art my Goddesse, to thy Law
     My seruices are bound, wherefore should I
     Stand in the plague of custome, and permit
     The curiosity of Nations, to depriue me?
     For that I am some twelue, or fourteene Moonshines
     Lag of a Brother? Why Bastard? Wherefore base?
     When my Dimensions are as well compact,
     My minde as generous, and my shape as true
     As honest Madams issue? Why brand they vs
     With Base? With basenes Bastardie? Base, Base?
     Who in the lustie stealth of Nature, take
     More composition, and fierce qualitie,
     Then doth within a dull stale tyred bed
     Goe to th' creating a whole tribe of Fops
     Got 'tweene a sleepe, and wake? Well then,
     Legitimate Edgar, I must haue your land,
     Our Fathers loue, is to the Bastard Edmond,
     As to th' legitimate: fine word: Legitimate.
     Well, my Legittimate, if this Letter speed,
     And my inuention thriue, Edmond the base
     Shall to'th' Legitimate: I grow, I prosper:
     Now Gods, stand vp for Bastards.
     Enter Gloucester.
     
     Glo. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choller parted?
     And the King gone to night? Prescrib'd his powre,
     Confin'd to exhibition? All this done
     Vpon the gad? Edmond, how now? What newes?
     Bast. So please your Lordship, none
     
     Glou. Why so earnestly seeke you to put vp y Letter?
     Bast. I know no newes, my Lord
     
     Glou. What Paper were you reading?
     Bast. Nothing my Lord
     
     Glou. No? what needed then that terrible dispatch of
     it into your Pocket? The quality of nothing, hath not
     such neede to hide it selfe. Let's see: come, if it bee nothing,
     I shall not neede Spectacles
     
     Bast. I beseech you Sir, pardon mee; it is a Letter
     from my Brother, that I haue not all ore-read; and for so
     much as I haue perus'd, I finde it not fit for your ore-looking
     
     Glou. Giue me the Letter, Sir
     
     Bast. I shall offend, either to detaine, or giue it:
     The Contents, as in part I vnderstand them,
     Are too blame
     
     Glou. Let's see, let's see
     
     Bast. I hope for my Brothers iustification, hee wrote
     this but as an essay, or taste of my Vertue
     
     Glou. reads. This policie, and reuerence of Age, makes the
     world bitter to the best of our times: keepes our Fortunes from
     vs, till our oldnesse cannot rellish them. I begin to finde an idle
     and fond bondage, in the oppression of aged tyranny, who swayes
     not as it hath power, but as it is suffer'd. Come to me, that of
     this I may speake more. If our Father would sleepe till I wak'd
     him, you should enioy halfe his Reuennew for euer, and liue the
     beloued of your Brother. Edgar.
     Hum? Conspiracy? Sleepe till I wake him, you should
     enioy halfe his Reuennew: my Sonne Edgar, had hee a
     hand to write this? A heart and braine to breede it in?
     When came you to this? Who brought it?
     Bast. It was not brought mee, my Lord; there's the
     cunning of it. I found it throwne in at the Casement of
     my Closset
     
     Glou. You know the character to be your Brothers?
     Bast. If the matter were good my Lord, I durst swear
     it were his: but in respect of that, I would faine thinke it
     were not
     
     Glou. It is his
     
     Bast. It is his hand, my Lord: but I hope his heart is
     not in the Contents
     
     Glo. Has he neuer before sounded you in this busines?
     Bast. Neuer my Lord. But I haue heard him oft maintaine
     it to be fit, that Sonnes at perfect age, and Fathers
     declin'd, the Father should bee as Ward to the Son, and
     the Sonne manage his Reuennew
     
     Glou. O Villain, villain: his very opinion in the Letter.
     Abhorred Villaine, vnnaturall, detested, brutish
     Villaine; worse then brutish: Go sirrah, seeke him: Ile
     apprehend him. Abhominable Villaine, where is he?
     Bast. I do not well know my L[ord]. If it shall please you to
     suspend your indignation against my Brother, til you can
     deriue from him better testimony of his intent, you shold
     run a certaine course: where, if you violently proceed against
     him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great
     gap in your owne Honor, and shake in peeces, the heart of
     his obedience. I dare pawne downe my life for him, that
     he hath writ this to feele my affection to your Honor, &
     to no other pretence of danger
     
     Glou. Thinke you so?
     Bast. If your Honor iudge it meete, I will place you
     where you shall heare vs conferre of this, and by an Auricular
     assurance haue your satisfaction, and that without
     any further delay, then this very Euening
     
     Glou. He cannot bee such a Monster. Edmond seeke
     him out: winde me into him, I pray you: frame the Businesse
     after your owne wisedome. I would vnstate my
     selfe, to be in a due resolution
     
     Bast. I will seeke him Sir, presently: conuey the businesse
     as I shall find meanes, and acquaint you withall
     
     Glou. These late Eclipses in the Sun and Moone portend
     no good to vs: though the wisedome of Nature can
     reason it thus, and thus, yet Nature finds it selfe scourg'd
     by the sequent effects. Loue cooles, friendship falls off,
     Brothers diuide. In Cities, mutinies; in Countries, discord;
     in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crack'd, 'twixt
     Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes vnder the
     prediction; there's Son against Father, the King fals from
     byas of Nature, there's Father against Childe. We haue
     seene the best of our time. Machinations, hollownesse,
     treacherie, and all ruinous disorders follow vs disquietly
     to our Graues. Find out this Villain, Edmond, it shall lose
     thee nothing, do it carefully: and the Noble & true-harted
     Kent banish'd; his offence, honesty. 'Tis strange.
     
     Exit
     
     Bast. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that
     when we are sicke in fortune, often the surfets of our own
     behauiour, we make guilty of our disasters, the Sun, the
     Moone, and Starres, as if we were villaines on necessitie,
     Fooles by heauenly compulsion, Knaues, Theeues, and
     Treachers by Sphericall predominance. Drunkards, Lyars,
     and Adulterers by an inforc'd obedience of Planatary
     influence; and all that we are euill in, by a diuine thrusting
     on. An admirable euasion of Whore-master-man,
     to lay his Goatish disposition on the charge of a Starre,
     My father compounded with my mother vnder the Dragons
     taile, and my Natiuity was vnder Vrsa Maior, so
     that it followes, I am rough and Leacherous. I should
     haue bin that I am, had the maidenlest Starre in the Firmament
     twinkled on my bastardizing.
     Enter Edgar.
     
     Pat: he comes like the Catastrophe of the old Comedie:
     my Cue is villanous Melancholly, with a sighe like Tom
     o' Bedlam. - O these Eclipses do portend these diuisions.
     Fa, Sol, La, Me
     
     Edg. How now Brother Edmond, what serious contemplation
     are you in?
     Bast. I am thinking Brother of a prediction I read this
     other day, what should follow these Eclipses
     
     Edg. Do you busie your selfe with that?
     Bast. I promise you, the effects he writes of, succeede
     vnhappily.
     When saw you my Father last?
     Edg. The night gone by
     
     Bast. Spake you with him?
     Edg. I, two houres together
     
     Bast. Parted you in good termes? Found you no displeasure
     in him, by word, nor countenance?
     Edg. None at all,
     Bast. Bethink your selfe wherein you may haue offended
     him: and at my entreaty forbeare his presence, vntill
     some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure,
     which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischiefe
     of your person, it would scarsely alay
     
     Edg. Some Villaine hath done me wrong
     
     Edm. That's my feare, I pray you haue a continent
     forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower: and as
     I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will
     fitly bring you to heare my Lord speake: pray ye goe,
     there's my key: if you do stirre abroad, goe arm'd
     
     Edg. Arm'd, Brother?
     Edm. Brother, I aduise you to the best, I am no honest
     man, if ther be any good meaning toward you: I haue told
     you what I haue seene, and heard: But faintly. Nothing
     like the image, and horror of it, pray you away
     
     Edg. Shall I heare from you anon?
     Enter.
     
     Edm. I do serue you in this businesse:
     A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble,
     Whose nature is so farre from doing harmes,
     That he suspects none: on whose foolish honestie
     My practises ride easie: I see the businesse.
     Let me, if not by birth, haue lands by wit,
     All with me's meete, that I can fashion fit.
     Enter.
     
     
     Scena Tertia.
     
     Enter Gonerill, and Steward.
     
     Gon. Did my Father strike my Gentleman for chiding
     of his Foole?
     Ste. I Madam
     
     Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me, euery howre
     He flashes into one grosse crime, or other,
     That sets vs all at ods: Ile not endure it;
     His Knights grow riotous, and himselfe vpbraides vs
     On euery trifle. When he returnes from hunting,
     I will not speake with him, say I am sicke,
     If you come slacke of former seruices,
     You shall do well, the fault of it Ile answer
     
     Ste. He's comming Madam, I heare him
     
     Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,
     You and your Fellowes: I'de haue it come to question;
     If he distaste it, let him to my Sister,
     Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,
     Remember what I haue said
     
     Ste. Well Madam
     
     Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among
     you: what growes of it no matter, aduise your fellowes
     so, Ile write straight to my Sister to hold my course; prepare
     for dinner.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Quarta.
     
     Enter Kent.
     
     Kent. If but as will I other accents borrow,
     That can my speech defuse, my good intent
     May carry through it selfe to that full issue
     For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent,
     If thou canst serue where thou dost stand condemn'd,
     So may it come, thy Master whom thou lou'st,
     Shall find thee full of labours.
     
     Hornes within. Enter Lear and Attendants.
     
     Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, go get it ready:
     how now, what art thou?
     Kent. A man Sir
     
     Lear. What dost thou professe? What would'st thou
     with vs?
     Kent. I do professe to be no lesse then I seeme; to serue
     him truely that will put me in trust, to loue him that is
     honest, to conuerse with him that is wise and saies little, to
     feare iudgement, to fight when I cannot choose, and to
     eate no fish
     
     Lear. What art thou?
     Kent. A very honest hearted Fellow, and as poore as
     the King
     
     Lear. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect, as hee's for a
     King, thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou?
     Kent. Seruice
     
     Lear. Who wouldst thou serue?
     Kent. You
     
     Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?
     Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance,
     which I would faine call Master
     
     Lear. What's that?
     Kent. Authority
     
     Lear. What seruices canst thou do?
     Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a
     curious tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message
     bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am quallified
     in, and the best of me, is Dilligence
     
     Lear. How old art thou?
     Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing,
     nor so old to dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on
     my backe forty eight
     
     Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no
     worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner
     ho, dinner, where's my knaue? my Foole? Go you and call
     my Foole hither. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter?
     Enter Steward.
     
     Ste. So please you-
     Enter.
     
     Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clotpole
     backe: wher's my Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's
     asleepe, how now? Where's that Mungrell?
     Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well
     
     Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I
     call'd him?
     Knigh. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he
     would not
     
     Lear. He would not?
     Knight. My Lord, I know not what the matter is,
     but to my iudgement your Highnesse is not entertain'd
     with that Ceremonious affection as you were wont,
     theres a great abatement of kindnesse appeares as well in
     the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also, and
     your Daughter
     
     Lear. Ha? Saist thou so?
     Knigh. I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee
     mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent, when I thinke
     your Highnesse wrong'd
     
     Lear. Thou but remembrest me of mine owne Conception,
     I haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late,
     which I haue rather blamed as mine owne iealous curiositie,
     then as a very pretence and purpose of vnkindnesse;
     I will looke further intoo't: but where's my Foole? I
     haue not seene him this two daies
     
     Knight. Since my young Ladies going into France
     Sir, the Foole hath much pined away
     
     Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it well, goe you
     and tell my Daughter, I would speake with her. Goe you
     call hither my Foole; Oh you Sir, you, come you hither
     Sir, who am I Sir?
     Enter Steward.
     
     Ste. My Ladies Father
     
     Lear. My Ladies Father? my Lords knaue, you whorson
     dog, you slaue, you curre
     
     Ste. I am none of these my Lord,
     I beseech your pardon
     
     Lear. Do you bandy lookes with me, you Rascall?
     Ste. Ile not be strucken my Lord
     
     Kent. Nor tript neither, you base Foot-ball plaier
     
     Lear. I thanke thee fellow.
     Thou seru'st me, and Ile loue thee
     
     Kent. Come sir, arise, away, Ile teach you differences:
     away, away, if you will measure your lubbers length againe,
     tarry, but away, goe too, haue you wisedome, so
     
     Lear. Now my friendly knaue I thanke thee, there's
     earnest of thy seruice.
     Enter Foole.
     
     Foole. Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcombe
     
     Lear. How now my pretty knaue, how dost thou?
     Foole. Sirrah, you were best take my Coxcombe
     
     Lear. Why my Boy?
     Foole. Why? for taking ones part that's out of fauour,
     nay, & thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch
     colde shortly, there take my Coxcombe; why this fellow
     ha's banish'd two on's Daughters, and did the third a
     blessing against his will, if thou follow him, thou must
     needs weare my Coxcombe. How now Nunckle? would
     I had two Coxcombes and two Daughters
     
     Lear. Why my Boy?
     Fool. If I gaue them all my liuing, I'ld keepe my Coxcombes
     my selfe, there's mine, beg another of thy
     Daughters
     
     Lear. Take heed Sirrah, the whip
     
     Foole. Truth's a dog must to kennell, hee must bee
     whipt out, when the Lady Brach may stand by'th' fire
     and stinke
     
     Lear. A pestilent gall to me
     
     Foole. Sirha, Ile teach thee a speech
     
     Lear. Do
     
     Foole. Marke it Nuncle;
     Haue more then thou showest,
     Speake lesse then thou knowest,
     Lend lesse then thou owest,
     Ride more then thou goest,
     Learne more then thou trowest,
     Set lesse then thou throwest;
     Leaue thy drinke and thy whore,
     And keepe in a dore,
     And thou shalt haue more,
     Then two tens to a score
     
     Kent. This is nothing Foole
     
     Foole. Then 'tis like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer,
     you gaue me nothing for't, can you make no vse of nothing
     Nuncle?
     Lear. Why no Boy,
     Nothing can be made out of nothing
     
     Foole. Prythee tell him, so much the rent of his land
     comes to, he will not beleeue a Foole
     
     Lear. A bitter Foole
     
     Foole. Do'st thou know the difference my Boy, betweene
     a bitter Foole, and a sweet one
     
     Lear. No Lad, teach me
     
     Foole. Nunckle, giue me an egge, and Ile giue thee
     two Crownes
     
     Lear. What two Crownes shall they be?
     Foole. Why after I haue cut the egge i'th' middle and
     eate vp the meate, the two Crownes of the egge: when
     thou clouest thy Crownes i'th' middle, and gau'st away
     both parts, thou boar'st thine Asse on thy backe o're the
     durt, thou hadst little wit in thy bald crowne, when thou
     gau'st thy golden one away; if I speake like my selfe in
     this, let him be whipt that first findes it so.
     Fooles had nere lesse grace in a yeere,
     For wisemen are growne foppish,
     And know not how their wits to weare,
     Their manners are so apish
     
     Le. When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah?
     Foole. I haue vsed it Nunckle, ere since thou mad'st
     thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gau'st them
     the rod, and put'st downe thine owne breeches, then they
     For sodaine ioy did weepe,
     And I for sorrow sung,
     That such a King should play bo-peepe,
     And goe the Foole among.
     Pry'thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaster that can teach
     thy Foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie
     
     Lear. And you lie sirrah, wee'l haue you whipt
     
     Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are,
     they'l haue me whipt for speaking true: thou'lt haue me
     whipt for lying, and sometimes I am whipt for holding
     my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then a foole,
     and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou hast pared thy
     wit o' both sides, and left nothing i'th' middle; heere
     comes one o'the parings.
     Enter Gonerill.
     
     Lear. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet
     on? You are too much of late i'th' frowne
     
     Foole. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no
     need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O without
     a figure, I am better then thou art now, I am a Foole,
     thou art nothing. Yes forsooth I will hold my tongue, so
     your face bids me, though you say nothing.
     Mum, mum, he that keepes nor crust, nor crum,
     Weary of all, shall want some. That's a sheal'd Pescod
     
     Gon. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole,
     But other of your insolent retinue
     Do hourely Carpe and Quarrell, breaking forth
     In ranke, and (not to be endur'd) riots Sir.
     I had thought by making this well knowne vnto you,
     To haue found a safe redresse, but now grow fearefull
     By what your selfe too late haue spoke and done,
     That you protect this course, and put it on
     By your allowance, which if you should, the fault
     Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleepe,
     Which in the tender of a wholesome weale,
     Mighty in their working do you that offence,
     Which else were shame, that then necessitie
     Will call discreet proceeding
     
     Foole. For you know Nunckle, the Hedge-Sparrow
     fed the Cuckoo so long, that it's had it head bit off by it
     young, so out went the Candle, and we were left darkling
     
     Lear. Are you our Daughter?
     Gon. I would you would make vse of your good wisedome
     (Whereof I know you are fraught), and put away
     These dispositions, which of late transport you
     From what you rightly are
     
     Foole. May not an Asse know, when the Cart drawes
     the Horse?
     Whoop Iugge I loue thee
     
     Lear. Do's any heere know me?
     This is not Lear:
     Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eies?
     Either his Notion weakens, his Discernings
     Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so?
     Who is it that can tell me who I am?
     Foole. Lears shadow
     
     Lear. Your name, faire Gentlewoman?
     Gon. This admiration Sir, is much o'th' sauour
     Of other your new prankes. I do beseech you
     To vnderstand my purposes aright:
     As you are Old, and Reuerend, should be Wise.
     Heere do you keepe a hundred Knights and Squires,
     Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,
     That this our Court infected with their manners,
     Shewes like a riotous Inne; Epicurisme and Lust
     Makes it more like a Tauerne, or a Brothell,
     Then a grac'd Pallace. The shame it selfe doth speake
     For instant remedy. Be then desir'd
     By her, that else will take the thing she begges,
     A little to disquantity your Traine,
     And the remainders that shall still depend,
     To be such men as may besort your Age,
     Which know themselues, and you
     
     Lear. Darknesse, and Diuels.
     Saddle my horses: call my Traine together.
     Degenerate Bastard, Ile not trouble thee;
     Yet haue I left a daughter
     
     Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rable,
     make Seruants of their Betters.
     Enter Albany.
     
     Lear. Woe, that too late repents:
     Is it your will, speake Sir? Prepare my Horses.
     Ingratitude! thou Marble-hearted Fiend,
     More hideous when thou shew'st thee in a Child,
     Then the Sea-monster
     
     Alb. Pray Sir be patient
     
     Lear. Detested Kite, thou lyest.
     My Traine are men of choice, and rarest parts,
     That all particulars of dutie know,
     And in the most exact regard, support
     The worships of their name. O most small fault,
     How vgly did'st thou in Cordelia shew?
     Which like an Engine, wrencht my frame of Nature
     From the fixt place: drew from my heart all loue,
     And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
     Beate at this gate that let thy Folly in,
     And thy deere Iudgement out. Go, go, my people
     
     Alb. My Lord, I am guiltlesse, as I am ignorant
     Of what hath moued you
     
     Lear. It may be so, my Lord.
     Heare Nature, heare deere Goddesse, heare:
     Suspend thy purpose, if thou did'st intend
     To make this Creature fruitfull:
     Into her Wombe conuey stirrility,
     Drie vp in her the Organs of increase,
     And from her derogate body, neuer spring
     A Babe to honor her. If she must teeme,
     Create her childe of Spleene, that it may liue
     And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her.
     Let it stampe wrinkles in her brow of youth,
     With cadent Teares fret Channels in her cheekes,
     Turne all her Mothers paines, and benefits
     To laughter, and contempt: That she may feele,
     How sharper then a Serpents tooth it is,
     To haue a thanklesse Childe. Away, away.
     Enter.
     
     Alb. Now Gods that we adore,
     Whereof comes this?
     Gon. Neuer afflict your selfe to know more of it:
     But let his disposition haue that scope
     As dotage giues it.
     Enter Lear.
     
     Lear. What fiftie of my Followers at a clap?
     Within a fortnight?
     Alb. What's the matter, Sir?
     Lear. Ile tell thee:
     Life and death, I am asham'd
     That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus,
     That these hot teares, which breake from me perforce
     Should make thee worth them.
     Blastes and Fogges vpon thee:
     Th' vntented woundings of a Fathers curse
     Pierce euerie sense about thee. Old fond eyes,
     Beweepe this cause againe, Ile plucke ye out,
     And cast you with the waters that you loose
     To temper Clay. Ha? Let it be so.
     I haue another daughter,
     Who I am sure is kinde and comfortable:
     When she shall heare this of thee, with her nailes
     Shee'l flea thy Woluish visage. Thou shalt finde,
     That Ile resume the shape which thou dost thinke
     I haue cast off for euer.
     
     Exit
     
     Gon. Do you marke that?
     Alb. I cannot be so partiall Gonerill,
     To the great loue I beare you
     
     Gon. Pray you content. What Oswald, hoa?
     You Sir, more Knaue then Foole, after your Master
     
     Foole. Nunkle Lear, Nunkle Lear,
     Tarry, take the Foole with thee:
     A Fox, when one has caught her,
     And such a Daughter,
     Should sure to the Slaughter,
     If my Cap would buy a Halter,
     So the Foole followes after.
     
     Exit
     
     Gon. This man hath had good Counsell,
     A hundred Knights?
     'Tis politike, and safe to let him keepe
     At point a hundred Knights: yes, that on euerie dreame,
     Each buz, each fancie, each complaint, dislike,
     He may enguard his dotage with their powres,
     And hold our liues in mercy. Oswald, I say
     
     Alb. Well, you may feare too farre
     
     Gon. Safer then trust too farre;
     Let me still take away the harmes I feare,
     Not feare still to be taken. I know his heart,
     What he hath vtter'd I haue writ my Sister:
     If she sustaine him, and his hundred Knights
     When I haue shew'd th' vnfitnesse.
     Enter Steward.
     
     How now Oswald?
     What haue you writ that Letter to my Sister?
     Stew. I Madam
     
     Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse,
     Informe her full of my particular feare,
     And thereto adde such reasons of your owne,
     As may compact it more. Get you gone,
     And hasten your returne; no, no, my Lord,
     This milky gentlenesse, and course of yours
     Though I condemne not, yet vnder pardon
     You are much more at task for want of wisedome,
     Then prais'd for harmefull mildnesse
     
     Alb. How farre your eies may pierce I cannot tell;
     Striuing to better, oft we marre what's well
     
     Gon. Nay then-
     Alb. Well, well, th' euent.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     Scena Quinta.
     
     
     Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, and Foole.
     
     Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these Letters;
     acquaint my Daughter no further with any thing you
     know, then comes from her demand out of the Letter,
     if your Dilligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore
     you
     
     Kent. I will not sleepe my Lord, till I haue deliuered
     your Letter.
     Enter.
     
     Foole. If a mans braines were in's heeles, wert not in
     danger of kybes?
     Lear. I Boy
     
     Foole. Then I prythee be merry, thy wit shall not go
     slip-shod
     
     Lear. Ha, ha, ha
     
     Fool. Shalt see thy other Daughter will vse thee kindly,
     for though she's as like this, as a Crabbe's like an
     Apple, yet I can tell what I can tell
     
     Lear. What can'st tell Boy?
     Foole. She will taste as like this as, a Crabbe do's to a
     Crab: thou canst, tell why ones nose stands i'th' middle
     on's face?
     Lear. No
     
     Foole. Why to keepe ones eyes of either side 's nose,
     that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into
     
     Lear. I did her wrong
     
     Foole. Can'st tell how an Oyster makes his shell?
     Lear. No
     
     Foole. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snaile ha's
     a house
     
     Lear. Why?
     Foole. Why to put's head in, not to giue it away to his
     daughters, and leaue his hornes without a case
     
     Lear. I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father? Be
     my Horsses ready?
     Foole. Thy Asses are gone about 'em; the reason why
     the seuen Starres are no mo then seuen, is a pretty reason
     
     Lear. Because they are not eight
     
     Foole. Yes indeed, thou would'st make a good Foole
     
     Lear. To tak't againe perforce; Monster Ingratitude!
     Foole. If thou wert my Foole Nunckle, Il'd haue thee
     beaten for being old before thy time
     
     Lear. How's that?
     Foole. Thou shouldst not haue bin old, till thou hadst
     bin wise
     
     Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad sweet Heauen:
     keepe me in temper, I would not be mad. How now are
     the Horses ready?
     Gent. Ready my Lord
     
     Lear. Come Boy
     
     Fool. She that's a Maid now, & laughs at my departure,
     Shall not be a Maid long, vnlesse things be cut shorter.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
     
     Enter Bastard, and Curan, seuerally.
     
     Bast. Saue thee Curan
     
     Cur. And you Sir, I haue bin
     With your Father, and giuen him notice
     That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Duchesse
     Will be here with him this night
     
     Bast. How comes that?
     Cur. Nay I know not, you haue heard of the newes abroad,
     I meane the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but
     ear-kissing arguments
     
     Bast. Not I: pray you what are they?
     Cur. Haue you heard of no likely Warres toward,
     'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany?
     Bast. Not a word
     
     Cur. You may do then in time,
     Fare you well Sir.
     Enter.
     
     Bast. The Duke be here to night? The better best,
     This weaues it selfe perforce into my businesse,
     My Father hath set guard to take my Brother,
     And I haue one thing of a queazie question
     Which I must act, Briefenesse, and Fortune worke.
     Enter Edgar.
     
     Brother, a word, discend; Brother I say,
     My Father watches: O Sir, fly this place,
     Intelligence is giuen where you are hid;
     You haue now the good aduantage of the night,
     Haue you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornewall?
     Hee's comming hither, now i'th' night, i'th' haste,
     And Regan with him, haue you nothing said
     Vpon his partie 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
     Aduise your selfe
     
     Edg. I am sure on't, not a word
     
     Bast. I heare my Father comming, pardon me:
     In cunning, I must draw my Sword vpon you:
     Draw, seeme to defend your selfe,
     Now quit you well.
     Yeeld, come before my Father, light hoa, here,
     Fly Brother, Torches, Torches, so farewell.
     
     Exit Edgar.
     
     Some blood drawne on me, would beget opinion
     Of my more fierce endeauour. I haue seene drunkards
     Do more then this in sport; Father, Father,
     Stop, stop, no helpe?
     Enter Gloster, and Seruants with Torches.
     
     Glo. Now Edmund, where's the villaine?
     Bast. Here stood he in the dark, his sharpe Sword out,
     Mumbling of wicked charmes, coniuring the Moone
     To stand auspicious Mistris
     
     Glo. But where is he?
     Bast. Looke Sir, I bleed
     
     Glo. Where is the villaine, Edmund?
     Bast. Fled this way Sir, when by no meanes he could
     
     Glo. Pursue him, ho: go after. By no meanes, what?
     Bast. Perswade me to the murther of your Lordship,
     But that I told him the reuenging Gods,
     'Gainst Paricides did all the thunder bend,
     Spoke with how manifold, and strong a Bond
     The Child was bound to'th' Father; Sir in fine,
     Seeing how lothly opposite I stood
     To his vnnaturall purpose, in fell motion
     With his prepared Sword, he charges home
     My vnprouided body, latch'd mine arme;
     And when he saw my best alarum'd spirits
     Bold in the quarrels right, rouz'd to th' encounter,
     Or whether gasted by the noyse I made,
     Full sodainely he fled
     
     Glost. Let him fly farre:
     Not in this Land shall he remaine vncaught
     And found; dispatch, the Noble Duke my Master,
     My worthy Arch and Patron comes to night,
     By his authoritie I will proclaime it,
     That he which finds him shall deserue our thankes,
     Bringing the murderous Coward to the stake:
     He that conceales him death
     
     Bast. When I disswaded him from his intent,
     And found him pight to doe it, with curst speech
     I threaten'd to discouer him; he replied,
     Thou vnpossessing Bastard, dost thou thinke,
     If I would stand against thee, would the reposall
     Of any trust, vertue, or worth in thee
     Make thy words faith'd? No, what should I denie,
     (As this I would, though thou didst produce
     My very Character) I'ld turne it all
     To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise:
     And thou must make a dullard of the world,
     If they not thought the profits of my death
     Were very pregnant and potentiall spirits
     To make thee seeke it.
     
     Tucket within.
     
     Glo. O strange and fastned Villaine,
     Would he deny his Letter, said he?
     Harke, the Dukes Trumpets, I know not wher he comes;
     All Ports Ile barre, the villaine shall not scape,
     The Duke must grant me that: besides, his picture
     I will send farre and neere, that all the kingdome
     May haue due note of him, and of my land,
     (Loyall and naturall Boy) Ile worke the meanes
     To make thee capable.
     Enter Cornewall, Regan, and Attendants.
     
     Corn. How now my Noble friend, since I came hither
     (Which I can call but now,) I haue heard strangenesse
     
     Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short
     Which can pursue th' offender; how dost my Lord?
     Glo. O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd
     
     Reg. What, did my Fathers Godsonne seeke your life?
     He whom my Father nam'd, your Edgar?
     Glo. O Lady, Lady, shame would haue it hid
     
     Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous Knights
     That tended vpon my Father?
     Glo. I know not Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad
     
     Bast. Yes Madam, he was of that consort
     
     Reg. No maruaile then, though he were ill affected,
     'Tis they haue put him on the old mans death,
     To haue th' expence and wast of his Reuenues:
     I haue this present euening from my Sister
     Beene well inform'd of them, and with such cautions,
     That if they come to soiourne at my house,
     Ile not be there
     
     Cor. Nor I, assure thee Regan;
     Edmund, I heare that you haue shewne your Father
     A Child-like Office
     
     Bast. It was my duty Sir
     
     Glo. He did bewray his practise, and receiu'd
     This hurt you see, striuing to apprehend him
     
     Cor. Is he pursued?
     Glo. I my good Lord
     
     Cor. If he be taken, he shall neuer more
     Be fear'd of doing harme, make your owne purpose,
     How in my strength you please: for you Edmund,
     Whose vertue and obedience doth this instant
     So much commend it selfe, you shall be ours,
     Nature's of such deepe trust, we shall much need:
     You we first seize on
     
     Bast. I shall serue you Sir truely, how euer else
     
     Glo. For him I thanke your Grace
     
     Cor. You know not why we came to visit you?
     Reg. Thus out of season, thredding darke ey'd night,
     Occasions Noble Gloster of some prize,
     Wherein we must haue vse of your aduise.
     Our Father he hath writ, so hath our Sister,
     Of differences, which I best thought it fit
     To answere from our home: the seuerall Messengers
     From hence attend dispatch, our good old Friend,
     Lay comforts to your bosome, and bestow
     Your needfull counsaile to our businesses,
     Which craues the instant vse
     
     Glo. I serue you Madam,
     Your Graces are right welcome.
     
     Exeunt. Flourish.
     
     
     Scena Secunda.
     
     Enter Kent, and Steward seuerally.
     
     Stew. Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?
     Kent. I
     
     Stew. Where may we set our horses?
     Kent. I'th' myre
     
     Stew. Prythee, if thou lou'st me, tell me
     
     Kent. I loue thee not
     
     Ste. Why then I care not for thee
     
     Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make
     thee care for me
     
     Ste. Why do'st thou vse me thus? I know thee not
     
     Kent. Fellow I know thee
     
     Ste. What do'st thou know me for?
     Kent. A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a
     base, proud, shallow, beggerly, three-suited-hundred
     pound, filthy woosted-stocking knaue, a Lilly-liuered,
     action-taking, whoreson glasse-gazing super-seruiceable
     finicall Rogue, one Trunke-inheriting slaue, one that
     would'st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art nothing
     but the composition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward,
     Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch,
     one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou
     deny'st the least sillable of thy addition
     
     Stew. Why, what a monstrous Fellow art thou, thus
     to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor
     knowes thee?
     Kent. What a brazen-fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny
     thou knowest me? Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy
     heeles, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,
     for though it be night, yet the Moone shines, Ile make a
     sop oth' Moonshine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly
     Barber-monger, draw
     
     Stew. Away, I haue nothing to do with thee
     
     Kent. Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters against
     the King, and take Vanitie the puppets part, against
     the Royaltie of her Father: draw you Rogue, or
     Ile so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascall, come
     your waies
     
     Ste. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe
     
     Kent. Strike you slaue: stand rogue, stand you neat
     slaue, strike
     
     Stew. Helpe hoa, murther, murther.
     Enter Bastard, Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.
     
     Bast. How now, what's the matter? Part
     
     Kent. With you goodman Boy, if you please, come,
     Ile flesh ye, come on yong Master
     
     Glo. Weapons? Armes? what's the matter here?
     Cor. Keepe peace vpon your liues, he dies that strikes
     againe, what is the matter?
     Reg. The Messengers from our Sister, and the King?
     Cor. What is your difference, speake?
     Stew. I am scarce in breath my Lord
     
     Kent. No Maruell, you haue so bestir'd your valour,
     you cowardly Rascall, nature disclaimes in thee: a Taylor
     made thee
     
     Cor. Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man?
     Kent. A Taylor Sir, a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could
     not haue made him so ill, though they had bin but two
     yeares oth' trade
     
     Cor. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?
     Ste. This ancient Ruffian Sir, whose life I haue spar'd
     at sute of his gray-beard
     
     Kent. Thou whoreson Zed, thou vnnecessary letter:
     my Lord, if you will giue me leaue, I will tread this vnboulted
     villaine into morter, and daube the wall of a
     Iakes with him. Spare my gray-beard, you wagtaile?
     Cor. Peace sirrah,
     You beastly knaue, know you no reuerence?
     Kent. Yes Sir, but anger hath a priuiledge
     
     Cor. Why art thou angrie?
     Kent. That such a slaue as this should weare a Sword,
     Who weares no honesty: such smiling rogues as these,
     Like Rats oft bite the holy cords a twaine,
     Which are t' intrince, t' vnloose: smooth euery passion
     That in the natures of their Lords rebell,
     Being oile to fire, snow to the colder moodes,
     Reuenge, affirme, and turne their Halcion beakes
     With euery gall, and varry of their Masters,
     Knowing naught (like dogges) but following:
     A plague vpon your Epilepticke visage,
     Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Foole?
     Goose, if I had you vpon Sarum Plaine,
     I'ld driue ye cackling home to Camelot
     
     Corn. What art thou mad old Fellow?
     Glost. How fell you out, say that?
     Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
     Then I, and such a knaue
     
     Corn. Why do'st thou call him Knaue?
     What is his fault?
     Kent. His countenance likes me not
     
     Cor. No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers
     
     Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plaine,
     I haue seene better faces in my Time,
     Then stands on any shoulder that I see
     Before me, at this instant
     
     Corn. This is some Fellow,
     Who hauing beene prais'd for bluntnesse, doth affect
     A saucy roughnes, and constraines the garb
     Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter he,
     An honest mind and plaine, he must speake truth,
     And they will take it so, if not, hee's plaine.
     These kind of Knaues I know, which in this plainnesse
     Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
     Then twenty silly-ducking obseruants,
     That stretch their duties nicely
     
     Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
     Vnder th' allowance of your great aspect,
     Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire
     On flickring Phoebus front
     
     Corn. What mean'st by this?
     Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend
     so much; I know Sir, I am no flatterer, he that beguild
     you in a plaine accent, was a plaine Knaue, which
     for my part I will not be, though I should win your
     displeasure to entreat me too't
     
     Corn. What was th' offence you gaue him?
     Ste. I neuer gaue him any:
     It pleas'd the King his Master very late
     To strike at me vpon his misconstruction,
     When he compact, and flattering his displeasure
     Tript me behind: being downe, insulted, rail'd,
     And put vpon him such a deale of Man,
     That worthied him, got praises of the King,
     For him attempting, who was selfe-subdued,
     And in the fleshment of this dead exploit,
     Drew on me here againe
     
     Kent. None of these Rogues, and Cowards
     But Aiax is there Foole
     
     Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks?
     You stubborne ancient Knaue, you reuerent Bragart,
     Wee'l teach you
     
     Kent. Sir, I am too old to learne:
     Call not your Stocks for me, I serue the King.
     On whose imployment I was sent to you,
     You shall doe small respects, show too bold malice
     Against the Grace, and Person of my Master,
     Stocking his Messenger
     
     Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;
     As I haue life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noone
     
     Reg. Till noone? till night my Lord, and all night too
     
     Kent. Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog,
     You should not vse me so
     
     Reg. Sir, being his Knaue, I will.
     
     Stocks brought out.
     
     Cor. This is a Fellow of the selfe same colour,
     Our Sister speakes of. Come, bring away the Stocks
     
     Glo. Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so,
     The King his Master, needs must take it ill
     That he so slightly valued in his Messenger,
     Should haue him thus restrained
     
     Cor. Ile answere that
     
     Reg. My Sister may recieue it much more worsse,
     To haue her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted
     
     Corn. Come my Lord, away.
     Enter.
     
     Glo. I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Dukes pleasure,
     Whose disposition all the world well knowes
     Will not be rub'd nor stopt, Ile entreat for thee
     
     Kent. Pray do not Sir, I haue watch'd and trauail'd hard,
     Some time I shall sleepe out, the rest Ile whistle:
     A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles:
     Giue you good morrow
     
     Glo. The Duke's too blame in this,
     'Twill be ill taken.
     Enter.
     
     Kent. Good King, that must approue the common saw,
     Thou out of Heauens benediction com'st
     To the warme Sun.
     Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe,
     That by thy comfortable Beames I may
     Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
     But miserie. I know 'tis from Cordelia,
     Who hath most fortunately beene inform'd
     Of my obscured course. And shall finde time
     From this enormous State, seeking to giue
     Losses their remedies. All weary and o're-watch'd,
     Take vantage heauie eyes, not to behold
     This shamefull lodging. Fortune goodnight,
     Smile once more, turne thy wheele.
     Enter Edgar.
     
     Edg. I heard my selfe proclaim'd,
     And by the happy hollow of a Tree,
     Escap'd the hunt. No Port is free, no place
     That guard, and most vnusall vigilance
     Do's not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape
     I will preserue myselfe: and am bethought
     To take the basest, and most poorest shape
     That euer penury in contempt of man,
     Brought neere to beast; my face Ile grime with filth,
     Blanket my loines, else all my haires in knots,
     And with presented nakednesse out-face
     The Windes, and persecutions of the skie;
     The Country giues me proofe, and president
     Of Bedlam beggers, who with roaring voices,
     Strike in their num'd and mortified Armes.
     Pins, Wodden-prickes, Nayles, Sprigs of Rosemarie:
     And with this horrible obiect, from low Farmes,
     Poore pelting Villages, Sheeps-Coates, and Milles,
     Sometimes with Lunaticke bans, sometime with Praiers
     Inforce their charitie: poore Turlygod poore Tom,
     That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am.
     Enter.
     
     Enter Lear, Foole, and Gentleman.
     
     Lea. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
     And not send backe my Messengers
     
     Gent. As I learn'd,
     The night before, there was no purpose in them
     Of this remoue
     
     Kent. Haile to thee Noble Master
     
     Lear. Ha? Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
     Kent. No my Lord
     
     Foole. Hah, ha, he weares Cruell Garters Horses are
     tide by the heads, Dogges and Beares by'th' necke,
     Monkies by'th' loynes, and Men by'th' legs: when a man
     ouerlustie at legs, then he weares wodden nether-stocks
     
     Lear. What's he,
     That hath so much thy place mistooke
     To set thee heere?
     Kent. It is both he and she,
     Your Son, and Daughter
     
     Lear. No
     
     Kent. Yes
     
     Lear. No I say
     
     Kent. I say yea
     
     Lear. By Iupiter I sweare no
     
     Kent. By Iuno, I sweare I
     
     Lear. They durst not do't:
     They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse then murther,
     To do vpon respect such violent outrage:
     Resolue me with all modest haste, which way
     Thou might'st deserue, or they impose this vsage,
     Comming from vs
     
     Kent. My Lord, when at their home
     I did commend your Highnesse Letters to them,
     Ere I was risen from the place, that shewed
     My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Poste,
     Stew'd in his haste, halfe breathlesse, painting forth
     From Gonerill his Mistris, salutations;
     Deliuer'd Letters spight of intermission,
     Which presently they read; on those contents
     They summon'd vp their meiney, straight tooke Horse,
     Commanded me to follow, and attend
     The leisure of their answer, gaue me cold lookes,
     And meeting heere the other Messenger,
     Whose welcome I perceiu'd had poison'd mine,
     Being the very fellow which of late
     Displaid so sawcily against your Highnesse,
     Hauing more man then wit about me, drew;
     He rais'd the house, with loud and coward cries,
     Your Sonne and Daughter found this trespasse worth
     The shame which heere it suffers
     
     Foole. Winters not gon yet, if the wil'd Geese fly that way,
     Fathers that weare rags, do make their Children blind,
     But Fathers that beare bags, shall see their children kind.
     Fortune that arrant whore, nere turns the key toth' poore.
     But for all this thou shalt haue as many Dolors for thy
     Daughters, as thou canst tell in a yeare
     
     Lear. Oh how this Mother swels vp toward my heart!
     Historica passio, downe thou climing sorrow,
     Thy Elements below where is this Daughter?
     Kent. With the Earle Sir, here within
     
     Lear. Follow me not, stay here.
     Enter.
     
     Gen. Made you no more offence,
     But what you speake of?
     Kent. None:
     How chance the King comes with so small a number?
     Foole. And thou hadst beene set i'th' Stockes for that
     question, thoud'st well deseru'd it
     
     Kent. Why Foole?
     Foole. Wee'l set thee to schoole to an Ant, to teach
     thee ther's no labouring i'th' winter. All that follow their
     noses, are led by their eyes, but blinde men, and there's
     not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking;
     let go thy hold when a great wheele runs downe a
     hill, least it breake thy necke with following. But the
     great one that goes vpward, let him draw thee after:
     when a wiseman giues thee better counsell giue me mine
     againe, I would haue none but knaues follow it, since a
     Foole giues it.
     That Sir, which serues and seekes for gaine,
     And followes but for forme;
     Will packe, when it begins to raine,
     And leaue thee in the storme,
     But I will tarry, the Foole will stay,
     And let the wiseman flie:
     The knaue turnes Foole that runnes away,
     The Foole no knaue perdie.
     Enter Lear, and Gloster] :
     Kent. Where learn'd you this Foole?
     Foole. Not i'th' Stocks Foole
     
     Lear. Deny to speake with me?
     They are sicke, they are weary,
     They haue trauail'd all the night? meere fetches,
     The images of reuolt and flying off.
     Fetch me a better answer
     
     Glo. My deere Lord,
     You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
     How vnremoueable and fixt he is
     In his owne course
     
     Lear. Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confusion:
     Fiery? What quality? Why Gloster, Gloster,
     I'ld speake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife
     
     Glo. Well my good Lord, I haue inform'd them so
     
     Lear. Inform'd them? Do'st thou vnderstand me man
     
     Glo. I my good Lord
     
     Lear. The King would speake with Cornwall,
     The deere Father
     Would with his Daughter speake, commands, tends, seruice,
     Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood:
     Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that-
     No, but not yet, may be he is not well,
     Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
     Whereto our health is bound, we are not our selues,
     When Nature being opprest, commands the mind
     To suffer with the body; Ile forbeare,
     And am fallen out with my more headier will,
     To take the indispos'd and sickly fit,
     For the sound man. Death on my state: wherefore
     Should he sit heere? This act perswades me,
     That this remotion of the Duke and her
     Is practise only. Giue me my Seruant forth;
     Goe tell the Duke, and's wife, Il'd speake with them:
     Now, presently: bid them come forth and heare me,
     Or at their Chamber doore Ile beate the Drum,
     Till it crie sleepe to death
     
     Glo. I would haue all well betwixt you.
     Enter.
     
     Lear. Oh me my heart! My rising heart! But downe
     
     Foole. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cockney did to the
     Eeles, when she put 'em i'th' Paste aliue, she knapt 'em
     o'th' coxcombs with a sticke, and cryed downe wantons,
     downe; 'twas her Brother, that in pure kindnesse to his
     Horse buttered his Hay.
     Enter Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.
     
     Lear. Good morrow to you both
     
     Corn. Haile to your Grace.
     
     Kent here set at liberty.
     
     Reg. I am glad to see your Highnesse
     
     Lear. Regan, I thinke you are. I know what reason
     I haue to thinke so, if thou should'st not be glad,
     I would diuorce me from thy Mother Tombe,
     Sepulchring an Adultresse. O are you free?
     Some other time for that. Beloued Regan,
     Thy Sisters naught: oh Regan, she hath tied
     Sharpe-tooth'd vnkindnesse, like a vulture heere,
     I can scarce speake to thee, thou'lt not beleeue
     With how deprau'd a quality. Oh Regan
     
     Reg. I pray you Sir, take patience, I haue hope
     You lesse know how to value her desert,
     Then she to scant her dutie
     
     Lear. Say? How is that?
     Reg. I cannot thinke my Sister in the least
     Would faile her Obligation. If Sir perchance
     She haue restrained the Riots of your Followres,
     'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
     As cleeres her from all blame
     
     Lear. My curses on her
     
     Reg. O Sir, you are old,
     Nature in you stands on the very Verge
     Of his confine: you should be rul'd, and led
     By some discretion, that discernes your state
     Better then you your selfe: therefore I pray you,
     That to our Sister, you do make returne,
     Say you haue wrong'd her
     
     Lear. Aske her forgiuenesse?
     Do you but marke how this becomes the house?
     Deere daughter, I confesse that I am old;
     Age is vnnecessary: on my knees I begge,
     That you'l vouchsafe me Rayment, Bed, and Food
     
     Reg. Good Sir, no more: these are vnsightly trickes:
     Returne you to my Sister
     
     Lear. Neuer Regan:
     She hath abated me of halfe my Traine;
     Look'd blacke vpon me, strooke me with her Tongue
     Most Serpent-like, vpon the very Heart.
     All the stor'd Vengeances of Heauen, fall
     On her ingratefull top: strike her yong bones
     You taking Ayres, with Lamenesse
     
     Corn. Fye sir, fie
     
     Le. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames
     Into her scornfull eyes: Infect her Beauty,
     You Fen-suck'd Fogges, drawne by the powrfull Sunne,
     To fall, and blister
     
     Reg. O the blest Gods!
     So will you wish on me, when the rash moode is on
     
     Lear. No Regan, thou shalt neuer haue my curse:
     Thy tender-hefted Nature shall not giue
     Thee o're to harshnesse: Her eyes are fierce, but thine
     Do comfort, and not burne. 'Tis not in thee
     To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my Traine,
     To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
     And in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
     Against my comming in. Thou better know'st
     The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood,
     Effects of Curtesie, dues of Gratitude:
     Thy halfe o'th' Kingdome hast thou not forgot,
     Wherein I thee endow'd
     
     Reg. Good Sir, to'th' purpose.
     
     Tucket within.
     
     Lear. Who put my man i'th' Stockes?
     Enter Steward.
     
     Corn. What Trumpet's that?
     Reg. I know't, my Sisters: this approues her Letter,
     That she would soone be heere. Is your Lady come?
     Lear. This is a Slaue, whose easie borrowed pride
     Dwels in the sickly grace of her he followes.
     Out Varlet, from my sight
     
     Corn. What meanes your Grace?
     Enter Gonerill.
     
     Lear. Who stockt my Seruant? Regan, I haue good hope
     Thou did'st not know on't.
     Who comes here? O Heauens!
     If you do loue old men; if your sweet sway
     Allow Obedience; if you your selues are old,
     Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part.
     Art not asham'd to looke vpon this Beard?
     O Regan, will you take her by the hand?
     Gon. Why not by'th' hand Sir? How haue I offended?
     All's not offence that indiscretion findes,
     And dotage termes so
     
     Lear. O sides, you are too tough!
     Will you yet hold?
     How came my man i'th' Stockes?
     Corn. I set him there, Sir: but his owne Disorders
     Deseru'd much lesse aduancement
     
     Lear. You? Did you?
     Reg. I pray you Father being weake, seeme so.
     If till the expiration of your Moneth
     You will returne and soiourne with my Sister,
     Dismissing halfe your traine, come then to me,
     I am now from home, and out of that prouision
     Which shall be needfull for your entertainement
     
     Lear. Returne to her? and fifty men dismiss'd?
     No, rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse
     To wage against the enmity oth' ayre,
     To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle,
     Necessities sharpe pinch. Returne with her?
     Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerlesse tooke
     Our yongest borne, I could as well be brought
     To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pension beg,
     To keepe base life a foote; returne with her?
     Perswade me rather to be slaue and sumpter
     To this detested groome
     
     Gon. At your choice Sir
     
     Lear. I prythee Daughter do not make me mad,
     I will not trouble thee my Child; farewell:
     Wee'l no more meete, no more see one another.
     But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my Daughter,
     Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
     Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a Byle,
     A plague sore, or imbossed Carbuncle
     In my corrupted blood. But Ile not chide thee,
     Let shame come when it will, I do not call it,
     I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoote,
     Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging Ioue,
     Mend when thou can'st, be better at thy leisure,
     I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
     I and my hundred Knights
     
     Reg. Not altogether so,
     I look'd not for you yet, nor am prouided
     For your fit welcome, giue eare Sir to my Sister,
     For those that mingle reason with your passion,
     Must be content to thinke you old, and so,
     But she knowes what she doe's
     
     Lear. Is this well spoken?
     Reg. I dare auouch it Sir, what fifty Followers?
     Is it not well? What should you need of more?
     Yea, or so many? Sith that both charge and danger,
     Speake 'gainst so great a number? How in one house
     Should many people, vnder two commands
     Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible
     
     Gon. Why might not you my Lord, receiue attendance
     From those that she cals Seruants, or from mine?
     Reg. Why not my Lord?
     If then they chanc'd to slacke ye,
     We could comptroll them; if you will come to me,
     (For now I spie a danger) I entreate you
     To bring but fiue and twentie, to no more
     Will I giue place or notice
     
     Lear. I gaue you all
     
     Reg. And in good time you gaue it
     
     Lear. Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries,
     But kept a reseruation to be followed
     With such a number? What, must I come to you
     With fiue and twenty? Regan, said you so?
     Reg. And speak't againe my Lord, no more with me
     
     Lea. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor'd
     When others are more wicked, not being the worst
     Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go with thee,
     Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty,
     And thou art twice her Loue
     
     Gon. Heare me my Lord;
     What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue?
     To follow in a house, where twice so many
     Haue a command to tend you?
     Reg. What need one?
     Lear. O reason not the need: our basest Beggers
     Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
     Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs:
     Mans life is cheape as Beastes. Thou art a Lady;
     If onely to go warme were gorgeous,
     Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
     Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need:
     You Heauens, giue me that patience, patience I need,
     You see me heere (you Gods) a poore old man,
     As full of griefe as age, wretched in both,
     If it be you that stirres these Daughters hearts
     Against their Father, foole me not so much,
     To beare it tamely: touch me with Noble anger,
     And let not womens weapons, water drops,
     Staine my mans cheekes. No you vnnaturall Hags,
     I will haue such reuenges on you both,
     That all the world shall- I will do such things,
     What they are yet, I know not, but they shalbe
     The terrors of the earth? you thinke Ile weepe,
     No, Ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping.
     
     Storme and Tempest.
     
     But this heart shal break into a hundred thousand flawes
     Or ere Ile weepe; O Foole, I shall go mad.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     Corn. Let vs withdraw, 'twill be a Storme
     
     Reg. This house is little, the old man and's people,
     Cannot be well bestow'd
     
     Gon. 'Tis his owne blame hath put himselfe from rest,
     And must needs taste his folly
     
     Reg. For his particular, Ile receiue him gladly,
     But not one follower
     
     Gon. So am I purpos'd,
     Where is my Lord of Gloster?
     Enter Gloster.
     
     Corn. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd
     
     Glo. The King is in high rage
     
     Corn. Whether is he going?
     Glo. He cals to Horse, but will I know not whether
     
     Corn. 'Tis best to giue him way, he leads himselfe
     
     Gon. My Lord, entreate him by no meanes to stay
     
     Glo. Alacke the night comes on, and the high windes
     Do sorely ruffle, for many Miles about
     There's scarce a Bush
     
     Reg. O Sir, to wilfull men,
     The iniuries that they themselues procure,
     Must be their Schoole-Masters: shut vp your doores,
     He is attended with a desperate traine,
     And what they may incense him too, being apt,
     To haue his eare abus'd, wisedome bids feare
     
     Cor. Shut vp your doores my Lord, 'tis a wil'd night,
     My Regan counsels well: come out oth' storme.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
     
     Storme still. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, seuerally.
     
     Kent. Who's there besides foule weather?
     Gen. One minded like the weather, most vnquietly
     
     Kent. I know you: Where's the King?
     Gent. Contending with the fretfull Elements;
     Bids the winde blow the Earth into the Sea,
     Or swell the curled Waters 'boue the Maine,
     That things might change, or cease
     
     Kent. But who is with him?
     Gent. None but the Foole, who labours to out-iest
     His heart-strooke iniuries
     
     Kent. Sir, I do know you,
     And dare vpon the warrant of my note
     Commend a deere thing to you. There is diuision
     (Although as yet the face of it is couer'd
     With mutuall cunning) 'twixt Albany, and Cornwall:
     Who haue, as who haue not, that their great Starres
     Thron'd and set high; Seruants, who seeme no lesse,
     Which are to France the Spies and Speculations
     Intelligent of our State. What hath bin seene,
     Either in snuffes, and packings of the Dukes,
     Or the hard Reine which both of them hath borne
     Against the old kinde King; or something deeper,
     Whereof (perchance) these are but furnishings
     
     Gent. I will talke further with you
     
     Kent. No, do not:
     For confirmation that I am much more
     Then my out-wall; open this Purse, and take
     What it containes. If you shall see Cordelia,
     (As feare not but you shall) shew her this Ring,
     And she will tell you who that Fellow is
     That yet you do not know. Fye on this Storme,
     I will go seeke the King
     
     Gent. Giue me your hand,
     Haue you no more to say?
     Kent. Few words, but to effect more then all yet;
     That when we haue found the King, in which your pain
     That way, Ile this: He that first lights on him,
     Holla the other.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Secunda.
     
     Storme still. Enter Lear, and Foole.
     
     Lear. Blow windes, & crack your cheeks; Rage, blow
     You Cataracts, and Hyrricano's spout,
     Till you haue drench'd our Steeples, drown the Cockes.
     You Sulph'rous and Thought-executing Fires,
     Vaunt-curriors of Oake-cleauing Thunder-bolts,
     Sindge my white head. And thou all-shaking Thunder,
     Strike flat the thicke Rotundity o'th' world,
     Cracke Natures moulds, all germaines spill at once
     That makes ingratefull Man
     
     Foole. O Nunkle, Court holy-water in a dry house, is
     better then this Rain-water out o' doore. Good Nunkle,
     in, aske thy Daughters blessing, heere's a night pitties
     neither Wisemen, nor Fooles
     
     Lear. Rumble thy belly full: spit Fire, spowt Raine:
     Nor Raine, Winde, Thunder, Fire are my Daughters;
     I taxe not you, you Elements with vnkindnesse.
     I neuer gaue you Kingdome, call'd you Children;
     You owe me no subscription. Then let fall
     Your horrible pleasure. Heere I stand your Slaue,
     A poore, infirme, weake, and dispis'd old man:
     But yet I call you Seruile Ministers,
     That will with two pernicious Daughters ioyne
     Your high-engender'd Battailes, 'gainst a head
     So old, and white as this. O, ho! 'tis foule
     
     Foole. He that has a house to put's head in, has a good
     Head-peece:
     The Codpiece that will house, before the head has any;
     The Head, and he shall Lowse: so Beggers marry many.
     The man y makes his Toe, what he his Hart shold make,
     Shall of a Corne cry woe, and turne his sleepe to wake.
     For there was neuer yet faire woman, but shee made
     mouthes in a glasse.
     Enter Kent
     
     Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience,
     I will say nothing
     
     Kent. Who's there?
     Foole. Marry here's Grace, and a Codpiece, that's a
     Wiseman, and a Foole
     
     Kent. Alas Sir are you here? Things that loue night,
     Loue not such nights as these: The wrathfull Skies
     Gallow the very wanderers of the darke
     And make them keepe their Caues: Since I was man,
     Such sheets of Fire, such bursts of horrid Thunder,
     Such groanes of roaring Winde, and Raine, I neuer
     Remember to haue heard. Mans Nature cannot carry
     Th' affliction, nor the feare
     
     Lear. Let the great Goddes
     That keepe this dreadfull pudder o're our heads,
     Finde out their enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch,
     That hast within thee vndivulged Crimes
     Vnwhipt of Iustice. Hide thee, thou Bloudy hand;
     Thou Periur'd, and thou Simular of Vertue
     That art Incestuous. Caytiffe, to peeces shake
     That vnder couert, and conuenient seeming
     Ha's practis'd on mans life. Close pent-vp guilts,
     Riue your concealing Continents, and cry
     These dreadfull Summoners grace. I am a man,
     More sinn'd against, then sinning
     
     Kent. Alacke, bare-headed?
     Gracious my Lord, hard by heere is a Houell,
     Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the Tempest:
     Repose you there, while I to this hard house,
     (More harder then the stones whereof 'tis rais'd,
     Which euen but now, demanding after you,
     Deny'd me to come in) returne, and force
     Their scanted curtesie
     
     Lear. My wits begin to turne.
     Come on my boy. How dost my boy? Art cold?
     I am cold my selfe. Where is this straw, my Fellow?
     The Art of our Necessities is strange,
     And can make vilde things precious. Come, your Houel;
     Poore Foole, and Knaue, I haue one part in my heart
     That's sorry yet for thee
     
     Foole. He that has and a little-tyne wit,
     With heigh-ho, the Winde and the Raine,
     Must make content with his Fortunes fit,
     Though the Raine it raineth euery day
     
     Le. True Boy: Come bring vs to this Houell.
     Enter.
     
     Foole. This is a braue night to coole a Curtizan:
     Ile speake a Prophesie ere I go:
     When Priests are more in word, then matter;
     When Brewers marre their Malt with water;
     When Nobles are their Taylors Tutors,
     No Heretiques burn'd, but wenches Sutors;
     When euery Case in Law, is right;
     No Squire in debt, nor no poore Knight;
     When Slanders do not liue in Tongues;
     Nor Cut-purses come not to throngs;
     When Vsurers tell their Gold i'th' Field,
     And Baudes, and whores, do Churches build,
     Then shal the Realme of Albion, come to great confusion:
     Then comes the time, who liues to see't,
     That going shalbe vs'd with feet.
     This prophecie Merlin shall make, for I liue before his time.
     Enter.
     
     
     Scaena Tertia.
     
     Enter Gloster, and Edmund.
     
     Glo. Alacke, alacke Edmund, I like not this vnnaturall
     dealing; when I desired their leaue that I might pity him,
     they tooke from me the vse of mine owne house, charg'd
     me on paine of perpetuall displeasure, neither to speake
     of him, entreat for him, or any way sustaine him
     
     Bast. Most sauage and vnnaturall
     
     Glo. Go too; say you nothing. There is diuision betweene
     the Dukes, and a worsse matter then that: I haue
     receiued a Letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken,
     I haue lock'd the Letter in my Closset, these iniuries the
     King now beares, will be reuenged home; ther is part of
     a Power already footed, we must incline to the King, I
     will looke him, and priuily relieue him; goe you and
     maintaine talke with the Duke, that my charity be not of
     him perceiued; If he aske for me, I am ill, and gone to
     bed, if I die for it, (as no lesse is threatned me) the King
     my old Master must be relieued. There is strange things
     toward Edmund, pray you be carefull.
     Enter.
     
     Bast. This Curtesie forbid thee, shall the Duke
     Instantly know, and of that Letter too;
     This seemes a faire deseruing, and must draw me
     That which my Father looses: no lesse then all,
     The yonger rises, when the old doth fall.
     Enter.
     
     
     Scena Quarta.
     
     Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.
     
     Kent. Here is the place my Lord, good my Lord enter,
     The tirrany of the open night's too rough
     For Nature to endure.
     
     Storme still
     
     Lear. Let me alone
     
     Kent. Good my Lord enter heere
     
     Lear. Wilt breake my heart?
     Kent. I had rather breake mine owne,
     Good my Lord enter
     
     Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storme
     Inuades vs to the skin so: 'tis to thee,
     But where the greater malady is fixt,
     The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a Beare,
     But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea,
     Thou'dst meete the Beare i'th' mouth, when the mind's free,
     The bodies delicate: the tempest in my mind,
     Doth from my sences take all feeling else,
     Saue what beates there, Filliall ingratitude,
     Is it not as this mouth should teare this hand
     For lifting food too't? But I will punish home;
     No, I will weepe no more; in such a night,
     To shut me out? Poure on, I will endure:
     In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill,
     Your old kind Father, whose franke heart gaue all,
     O that way madnesse lies, let me shun that:
     No more of that
     
     Kent. Good my Lord enter here
     
     Lear. Prythee go in thy selfe, seeke thine owne ease,
     This tempest will not giue me leaue to ponder
     On things would hurt me more, but Ile goe in,
     In Boy, go first. You houselesse pouertie,
     Enter.
     
     Nay get thee in; Ile pray, and then Ile sleepe.
     Poore naked wretches, where so ere you are
     That bide the pelting of this pittilesse storme,
     How shall your House-lesse heads, and vnfed sides,
     Your lop'd, and window'd raggednesse defend you
     From seasons such as these? O I haue tane
     Too little care of this: Take Physicke, Pompe,
     Expose thy selfe to feele what wretches feele,
     That thou maist shake the superflux to them,
     And shew the Heauens more iust.
     Enter Edgar, and Foole.
     
     Edg. Fathom, and halfe, Fathom and halfe; poore Tom
     
     Foole. Come not in heere Nuncle, here's a spirit, helpe
     me, helpe me
     
     Kent. Giue my thy hand, who's there?
     Foole. A spirite, a spirite, he sayes his name's poore
     Tom
     
     Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i'th'
     straw? Come forth
     
     Edg. Away, the foule Fiend followes me, through the
     sharpe Hauthorne blow the windes. Humh, goe to thy
     bed and warme thee
     
     Lear. Did'st thou giue all to thy Daughters? And art
     thou come to this?
     Edgar. Who giues any thing to poore Tom? Whom
     the foule fiend hath led through Fire, and through Flame,
     through Sword, and Whirle-Poole, o're Bog, and Quagmire,
     that hath laid Kniues vnder his Pillow, and Halters
     in his Pue, set Rats-bane by his Porredge, made him
     Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, ouer foure
     incht Bridges, to course his owne shadow for a Traitor.
     Blisse thy fiue Wits, Toms a cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de,
     blisse thee from Whirle-Windes, Starre-blasting, and taking,
     do poore Tom some charitie, whom the foule Fiend
     vexes. There could I haue him now, and there, and there
     againe, and there.
     
     Storme still.
     
     Lear. Ha's his Daughters brought him to this passe?
     Could'st thou saue nothing? Would'st thou giue 'em all?
     Foole. Nay, he reseru'd a Blanket, else we had bin all
     sham'd
     
     Lea. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre
     Hang fated o're mens faults, light on thy Daughters
     
     Kent. He hath no Daughters Sir
     
     Lear. Death Traitor, nothing could haue subdu'd Nature
     To such a lownesse, but his vnkind Daughters.
     Is it the fashion, that discarded Fathers,
     Should haue thus little mercy on their flesh:
     Iudicious punishment, 'twas this flesh begot
     Those Pelicane Daughters
     
     Edg. Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill, alow: alow, loo, loo
     
     Foole. This cold night will turne vs all to Fooles, and
     Madmen
     
     Edgar. Take heed o'th' foule Fiend, obey thy Parents,
     keepe thy words Iustice, sweare not, commit not,
     with mans sworne Spouse: set not thy Sweet-heart on
     proud array. Tom's a cold
     
     Lear. What hast thou bin?
     Edg. A Seruingman? Proud in heart, and minde; that
     curl'd my haire, wore Gloues in my cap; seru'd the Lust
     of my Mistris heart, and did the acte of darkenesse with
     her. Swore as many Oathes, as I spake words, & broke
     them in the sweet face of Heauen. One, that slept in the
     contriuing of Lust, and wak'd to doe it. Wine lou'd I
     deerely, Dice deerely; and in Woman, out-Paramour'd
     the Turke. False of heart, light of eare, bloody of hand;
     Hog in sloth, Foxe in stealth, Wolfe in greedinesse, Dog
     in madnes, Lyon in prey. Let not the creaking of shooes,
     Nor the rustling of Silkes, betray thy poore heart to woman.
     Keepe thy foote out of Brothels, thy hand out of
     Plackets, thy pen from Lenders Bookes, and defye the
     foule Fiend. Still through the Hauthorne blowes the
     cold winde: Sayes suum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my Boy,
     Boy Sesey: let him trot by.
     
     Storme still.
     
     Lear. Thou wert better in a Graue, then to answere
     with thy vncouer'd body, this extremitie of the Skies. Is
     man no more then this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st
     the Worme no Silke; the Beast, no Hide; the Sheepe, no
     Wooll; the Cat, no perfume. Ha? Here's three on's are
     sophisticated. Thou art the thing it selfe; vnaccommodated
     man, is no more but such a poore, bare, forked Animall
     as thou art. Off, off you Lendings: Come, vnbutton
     heere.
     Enter Gloucester, with a Torch.
     
     Foole. Prythee Nunckle be contented, 'tis a naughtie
     night to swimme in. Now a little fire in a wilde Field,
     were like an old Letchers heart, a small spark, all the rest
     on's body, cold: Looke, heere comes a walking fire
     
     Edg. This is the foule Flibbertigibbet; hee begins at
     Curfew, and walkes at first Cocke: Hee giues the Web
     and the Pin, squints the eye, and makes the Hare-lippe;
     Mildewes the white Wheate, and hurts the poore Creature
     of earth.
     Swithold footed thrice the old,
     He met the Night-Mare, and her nine-fold;
     Bid her a-light, and her troth-plight,
     And aroynt thee Witch, aroynt thee
     
     Kent. How fares your Grace?
     Lear. What's he?
     Kent. Who's there? What is't you seeke?
     Glou. What are you there? Your Names?
     Edg. Poore Tom, that eates the swimming Frog, the
     Toad, the Tod-pole, the wall-Neut, and the water: that
     in the furie of his heart, when the foule Fiend rages, eats
     Cow-dung for Sallets; swallowes the old Rat, and the
     ditch-Dogge; drinkes the green Mantle of the standing
     Poole: who is whipt from Tything to Tything, and
     stockt, punish'd, and imprison'd: who hath three Suites
     to his backe, sixe shirts to his body:
     Horse to ride, and weapon to weare:
     But Mice, and Rats, and such small Deare,
     Haue bin Toms food, for seuen long yeare:
     Beware my Follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou Fiend
     
     Glou. What, hath your Grace no better company?
     Edg. The Prince of Darkenesse is a Gentleman. Modo
     he's call'd, and Mahu
     
     Glou. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is growne so
     vilde, that it doth hate what gets it
     
     Edg. Poore Tom's a cold
     
     Glou. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
     T' obey in all your daughters hard commands:
     Though their Iniunction be to barre my doores,
     And let this Tyrannous night take hold vpon you,
     Yet haue I ventured to come seeke you out,
     And bring you where both fire, and food is ready
     
     Lear. First let me talke with this Philosopher,
     What is the cause of Thunder?
     Kent. Good my Lord take his offer,
     Go into th' house
     
     Lear. Ile talke a word with this same lerned Theban:
     What is your study?
     Edg. How to preuent the Fiend, and to kill Vermine
     
     Lear. Let me aske you one word in priuate
     
     Kent. Importune him once more to go my Lord,
     His wits begin t' vnsettle
     
     Glou. Canst thou blame him?
     
     Storm still
     
     His Daughters seeke his death: Ah, that good Kent,
     He said it would be thus: poore banish'd man:
     Thou sayest the King growes mad, Ile tell thee Friend
     I am almost mad my selfe. I had a Sonne,
     Now out-law'd from my blood: he sought my life
     But lately: very late: I lou'd him (Friend)
     No Father his Sonne deerer: true to tell thee,
     The greefe hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this?
     I do beseech your grace
     
     Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:
     Noble Philosopher, your company
     
     Edg. Tom's a cold
     
     Glou. In fellow there, into th' Houel; keep thee warm
     
     Lear. Come, let's in all
     
     Kent. This way, my Lord
     
     Lear. With him;
     I will keepe still with my Philosopher
     
     Kent. Good my Lord, sooth him:
     Let him take the Fellow
     
     Glou. Take him you on
     
     Kent. Sirra, come on: go along with vs
     
     Lear. Come, good Athenian
     
     Glou. No words, no words, hush
     
     Edg. Childe Rowland to the darke Tower came,
     His word was still, fie, foh, and fumme,
     I smell the blood of a Brittish man.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     Scena Quinta.
     
     Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.
     
     Corn. I will haue my reuenge, ere I depart his house
     
     Bast. How my Lord, I may be censured, that Nature
     thus giues way to Loyaltie, something feares mee to
     thinke of
     
     Cornw. I now perceiue, it was not altogether your
     Brothers euill disposition made him seeke his death: but
     a prouoking merit set a-worke by a reprouable badnesse
     in himselfe
     
     Bast. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent
     to be iust? This is the Letter which hee spoake of;
     which approues him an intelligent partie to the aduantages
     of France. O Heauens! that this Treason were not;
     or not I the detector
     
     Corn. Go with me to the Dutchesse
     
     Bast. If the matter of this Paper be certain, you haue
     mighty businesse in hand
     
     Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earle of Gloucester:
     seeke out where thy Father is, that hee may bee
     ready for our apprehension
     
     Bast. If I finde him comforting the King, it will stuffe
     his suspition more fully. I will perseuer in my course of
     Loyalty, though the conflict be sore betweene that, and
     my blood
     
     Corn. I will lay trust vpon thee: and thou shalt finde
     a deere Father in my loue.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Sexta.
     
     Enter Kent, and Gloucester.
     
     Glou. Heere is better then the open ayre, take it thankfully:
     I will peece out the comfort with what addition I
     can: I will not be long from you.
     
     Exit
     
     Kent. All the powre of his wits, haue giuen way to his
     impatience: the Gods reward your kindnesse.
     Enter Lear, Edgar, and Foole.
     
     Edg. Fraterretto cals me, and tells me Nero is an Angler
     in the Lake of Darknesse: pray Innocent, and beware
     the foule Fiend
     
     Foole. Prythee Nunkle tell me, whether a madman be
     a Gentleman, or a Yeoman
     
     Lear. A King, a King
     
     Foole. No, he's a Yeoman, that ha's a Gentleman to
     his Sonne: for hee's a mad Yeoman that sees his Sonne a
     Gentleman before him
     
     Lear. To haue a thousand with red burning spits
     Come hizzing in vpon 'em
     
     Edg. Blesse thy fiue wits
     
     Kent. O pitty: Sir, where is the patience now
     That you so oft haue boasted to retaine?
     Edg. My teares begin to take his part so much,
     They marre my counterfetting
     
     Lear. The little dogges, and all;
     Trey, Blanch, and Sweet-heart: see, they barke at me
     
     Edg. Tom, will throw his head at them: Auaunt you
     Curres, be thy mouth or blacke or white:
     Tooth that poysons if it bite:
     Mastiffe, Grey-hound, Mongrill, Grim,
     Hound or Spaniell, Brache, or Hym:
     Or Bobtaile tight, or Troudle taile,
     Tom will make him weepe and waile,
     For with throwing thus my head;
     Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled.
     Do, de, de, de: sese: Come, march to Wakes and Fayres,
     And Market Townes: poore Tom thy horne is dry,
     Lear. Then let them Anatomize Regan: See what
     breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in Nature that
     make these hard-hearts. You sir, I entertaine for one of
     my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments.
     You will say they are Persian; but let them bee
     chang'd.
     Enter Gloster.
     
     Kent. Now good my Lord, lye heere, and rest awhile
     
     Lear. Make no noise, make no noise, draw the Curtaines:
     so, so, wee'l go to Supper i'th' morning
     
     Foole. And Ile go to bed at noone
     
     Glou. Come hither Friend:
     Where is the King my Master?
     Kent. Here Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gon
     
     Glou. Good friend, I prythee take him in thy armes;
     I haue ore-heard a plot of death vpon him:
     There is a Litter ready, lay him in't,
     And driue toward Douer friend, where thou shalt meete
     Both welcome, and protection. Take vp thy Master,
     If thou should'st dally halfe an houre, his life
     With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
     Stand in assured losse. Take vp, take vp,
     And follow me, that will to some prouision
     Giue thee quicke conduct. Come, come, away.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     Scena Septima.
     
     Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Bastard, and Seruants.
     
     Corn. Poste speedily to my Lord your husband, shew
     him this Letter, the Army of France is landed: seeke out
     the Traitor Glouster
     
     Reg. Hang him instantly
     
     Gon. Plucke out his eyes
     
     Corn. Leaue him to my displeasure. Edmond, keepe
     you our Sister company: the reuenges wee are bound to
     take vppon your Traitorous Father, are not fit for your
     beholding. Aduice the Duke where you are going, to a
     most festinate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our
     Postes shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt vs. Farewell
     deere Sister, farewell my Lord of Glouster.
     Enter Steward.
     
     How now? Where's the King?
     Stew. My Lord of Glouster hath conuey'd him hence
     Some fiue or six and thirty of his Knights
     Hot Questrists after him, met him at gate,
     Who, with some other of the Lords, dependants,
     Are gone with him toward Douer; where they boast
     To haue well armed Friends
     
     Corn. Get horses for your Mistris
     
     Gon. Farewell sweet Lord, and Sister.
     
     Exit
     
     Corn. Edmund farewell: go seek the Traitor Gloster,
     Pinnion him like a Theefe, bring him before vs:
     Though well we may not passe vpon his life
     Without the forme of Iustice: yet our power
     Shall do a curt'sie to our wrath, which men
     May blame, but not comptroll.
     Enter Gloucester, and Seruants.
     
     Who's there? the Traitor?
     Reg. Ingratefull Fox, 'tis he
     
     Corn. Binde fast his corky armes
     
     Glou. What meanes your Graces?
     Good my Friends consider you are my Ghests:
     Do me no foule play, Friends
     
     Corn. Binde him I say
     
     Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy Traitor
     
     Glou. Vnmercifull Lady, as you are, I'me none
     
     Corn. To this Chaire binde him,
     Villaine, thou shalt finde
     
     Glou. By the kinde Gods, 'tis most ignobly done
     To plucke me by the Beard
     
     Reg. So white, and such a Traitor?
     Glou. Naughty Ladie,
     These haires which thou dost rauish from my chin
     Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your Host,
     With Robbers hands, my hospitable fauours
     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 confederacie haue you with the Traitors,
     late footed in the Kingdome?
     Reg. To whose hands
     You haue sent the Lunaticke King: Speake
     
     Glou. I haue a Letter guessingly set downe
     Which came from one that's of a newtrall heart,
     And not from one oppos'd
     
     Corn. Cunning
     
     Reg. And false
     
     Corn. Where hast thou sent the King?
     Glou. To Douer
     
     Reg. Wherefore to Douer?
     Was't thou not charg'd at perill
     
     Corn. Wherefore to Douer? Let him answer that
     
     Glou. I am tyed to'th' Stake,
     And I must stand the Course
     
     Reg. Wherefore to Douer?
     Glou. Because I would not see thy cruell Nailes
     Plucke out his poore old eyes: nor thy fierce Sister,
     In his Annointed flesh, sticke boarish phangs.
     The Sea, with such a storme as his bare head,
     In Hell-blacke-night indur'd, would haue buoy'd vp
     And quench'd the Stelled fires:
     Yet poore old heart, he holpe the Heauens to raine.
     If Wolues had at thy Gate howl'd that sterne time,
     Thou should'st haue said, good Porter turne the Key:
     All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see
     The winged Vengeance ouertake such Children
     
     Corn. See't shalt thou neuer. Fellowes hold y Chaire,
     Vpon these eyes of thine, Ile set my foote
     
     Glou. He that will thinke to liue, till he be old,
     Giue me some helpe. - O cruell! O you Gods
     
     Reg. One side will mocke another: Th' other too
     
     Corn. If you see vengeance
     
     Seru. Hold your hand, my Lord:
     I haue seru'd you euer since I was a Childe:
     But better seruice haue I neuer done you,
     Then now to bid you hold
     
     Reg. How now, you dogge?
     Ser. If you did weare a beard vpon your chin,
     I'ld shake it on this quarrell. What do you meane?
     Corn. My Villaine?
     Seru. Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger
     
     Reg. Giue me thy Sword. A pezant stand vp thus?
     
     Killes him.
     
     Ser. Oh I am slaine: my Lord, you haue one eye left
     To see some mischefe on him. Oh
     
     Corn. Lest it see more, preuent it; Out vilde gelly:
     Where is thy luster now?
     Glou. All darke and comfortlesse?
     Where's my Sonne Edmund?
     Edmund, enkindle all the sparkes of Nature
     To quit this horrid acte
     
     Reg. Out treacherous Villaine,
     Thou call'st on him, that hates thee. It was he
     That made the ouerture of thy Treasons to vs:
     Who is too good to pitty thee
     
     Glou. O my Follies! then Edgar was abus'd,
     Kinde Gods, forgiue me that, and prosper him
     
     Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
     His way to Douer.
     Exit with Glouster.
     
     How is't my Lord? How looke you?
     Corn. I haue receiu'd a hurt: Follow me Lady;
     Turne out that eyelesse Villaine: throw this Slaue
     Vpon the Dunghill: Regan, I bleed apace,
     Vntimely comes this hurt. Giue me your arme.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
     
     Enter Edgar.
     
     Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd,
     Then still contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worst:
     The lowest, and most deiected thing of Fortune,
     Stands still in esperance, liues not in feare:
     The lamentable change is from the best,
     The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then,
     Thou vnsubstantiall ayre that I embrace:
     The Wretch that thou hast blowne vnto the worst,
     Owes nothing to thy blasts.
     Enter Glouster, and an Oldman.
     
     But who comes heere? My Father poorely led?
     World, World, O world!
     But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee,
     Life would not yeelde to age
     
     Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant,
     And your Fathers Tenant, these fourescore yeares
     
     Glou. Away, get thee away: good Friend be gone,
     Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
     Thee, they may hurt
     
     Oldm. You cannot see your way
     
     Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes:
     I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seene,
     Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects
     Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar,
     The food of thy abused Fathers wrath:
     Might I but liue to see thee in my touch,
     I'ld say I had eyes againe
     
     Oldm. How now? who's there?
     Edg. O Gods! Who is't can say I am at the worst?
     I am worse then ere I was
     
     Old. 'Tis poore mad Tom
     
     Edg. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not,
     So long as we can say this is the worst
     
     Oldm. Fellow, where goest?
     Glou. Is it a Beggar-man?
     Oldm. Madman, and beggar too
     
     Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg.
     I'th' last nights storme, I such a fellow saw;
     Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne
     Came then into my minde, and yet my minde
     Was then scarse Friends with him.
     I haue heard more since:
     As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th' Gods,
     They kill vs for their sport
     
     Edg. How should this be?
     Bad is the Trade that must play Foole to sorrow,
     Ang'ring it selfe, and others. Blesse thee Master
     
     Glou. Is that the naked Fellow?
     Oldm. I, my Lord
     
     Glou. Get thee away: If for my sake
     Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine
     I'th' way toward Douer, do it for ancient loue,
     And bring some couering for this naked Soule,
     Which Ile intreate to leade me
     
     Old. Alacke sir, he is mad
     
     Glou. 'Tis the times plague,
     When Madmen leade the blinde:
     Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure:
     Aboue the rest, be gone
     
     Oldm. Ile bring him the best Parrell that I haue
     Come on't what will.
     
     Exit
     
     Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow
     
     Edg. Poore Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further
     
     Glou. Come hither fellow
     
     Edg. And yet I must:
     Blesse thy sweete eyes, they bleede
     
     Glou. Know'st thou the way to Douer?
     Edg. Both style, and gate; Horseway, and foot-path:
     poore Tom hath bin scarr'd out of his good wits. Blesse
     thee good mans sonne, from the foule Fiend
     
     Glou. Here take this purse, y whom the heau'ns plagues
     Haue humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
     Makes thee the happier: Heauens deale so still:
     Let the superfluous, and Lust-dieted man,
     That slaues your ordinance, that will not see
     Because he do's not feele, feele your powre quickly:
     So distribution should vndoo excesse,
     And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer?
     Edg. I Master
     
     Glou. There is a Cliffe, whose high and bending head
     Lookes fearfully in the confined Deepe:
     Bring me but to the very brimme of it,
     And Ile repayre the misery thou do'st beare
     With something rich about me: from that place,
     I shall no leading neede
     
     Edg. Giue me thy arme;
     Poore Tom shall leade thee.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Secunda.
     
     Enter Gonerill, Bastard, and Steward.
     
     Gon. Welcome my Lord. I meruell our mild husband
     Not met vs on the way. Now, where's your Master?
     Stew. Madam within, but neuer man so chang'd:
     I told him of the Army that was Landed:
     He smil'd at it. I told him you were comming,
     His answer was, the worse. Of Glosters Treachery,
     And of the loyall Seruice of his Sonne
     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, seemes pleasant to him;
     What like, offensiue
     
     Gon. Then shall you go no further.
     It is the Cowish terror of his spirit
     That dares not vndertake: Hee'l not feele wrongs
     Which tye him to an answer: our wishes on the way
     May proue effects. Backe Edmond to my Brother,
     Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powres.
     I must change names at home, and giue the Distaffe
     Into my Husbands hands. This trustie Seruant
     Shall passe betweene vs: ere long you are like to heare
     (If you dare venture in your owne behalfe)
     A Mistresses command. Weare this; spare speech,
     Decline your head. This kisse, if it durst speake
     Would stretch thy Spirits vp into the ayre:
     Conceiue, and fare thee well
     
     Bast. Yours in the rankes of death.
     Enter.
     
     Gon. My most deere Gloster.
     Oh, the difference of man, and man,
     To thee a Womans seruices are due,
     My Foole vsurpes my body
     
     Stew. Madam, here come's my Lord.
     Enter Albany.
     
     Gon. I haue beene worth the whistle
     
     Alb. Oh Gonerill,
     You are not worth the dust which the rude winde
     Blowes in your face
     
     Gon. Milke-Liuer'd man,
     That bear'st a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs,
     Who hast not in thy browes an eye-discerning
     Thine Honor, from thy suffering
     
     Alb. See thy selfe diuell:
     Proper deformitie seemes not in the Fiend
     So horrid as in woman
     
     Gon. Oh vaine Foole.
     Enter a Messenger.
     
     Mes. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwals dead,
     Slaine by his Seruant, going to put out
     The other eye of Glouster
     
     Alb. Glousters eyes
     
     Mes. A Seruant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
     Oppos'd against the act: bending his Sword
     To his great Master, who, threat-enrag'd
     Flew on him, and among'st them fell'd him dead,
     But not without that harmefull stroke, which since
     Hath pluckt him after
     
     Alb. This shewes you are aboue
     You Iustices, that these our neather crimes
     So speedily can venge. But (O poore Glouster)
     Lost he his other eye?
     Mes. Both, both, my Lord.
     This Leter Madam, craues a speedy answer:
     'Tis from your Sister
     
     Gon. One way I like this well.
     But being widdow, and my Glouster with her,
     May all the building in my fancie plucke
     Vpon my hatefull life. Another way
     The Newes is not so tart. Ile read, and answer
     
     Alb. Where was his Sonne,
     When they did take his eyes?
     Mes. Come with my Lady hither
     
     Alb. He is not heere
     
     Mes. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe
     
     Alb. Knowes he the wickednesse?
     Mes. I my good Lord: 'twas he inform'd against him
     And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
     Might haue the freer course
     
     Alb. Glouster, I liue
     To thanke thee for the loue thou shew'dst the King,
     And to reuenge thine eyes. Come hither Friend,
     Tell me what more thou know'st.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Tertia.
     
     Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Gentlemen, and
     Souldiours.
     
     Cor. Alacke, 'tis he: why he was met euen now
     As mad as the vext Sea, singing alowd.
     Crown'd with ranke Fenitar, and furrow weeds,
     With Hardokes, Hemlocke, Nettles, Cuckoo flowres,
     Darnell, and all the idle weedes that grow
     In our sustaining Corne. A Centery send forth;
     Search euery Acre in the high-growne field,
     And bring him to our eye. What can mans wisedome
     In the restoring his bereaued Sense; he that helpes him,
     Take all my outward worth
     
     Gent. There is meanes Madam:
     Our foster Nurse of Nature, is repose,
     The which he lackes: that to prouoke in him
     Are many Simples operatiue, whose power
     Will close the eye of Anguish
     
     Cord. All blest Secrets,
     All you vnpublish'd Vertues of the earth
     Spring with my teares; be aydant, and remediate
     In the Goodmans desires: seeke, seeke for him,
     Least his vngouern'd rage, dissolue the life
     That wants the meanes to leade it.
     Enter Messenger.
     
     Mes. Newes Madam,
     The Brittish Powres are marching hitherward
     
     Cor. 'Tis knowne before. Our preparation stands
     In expectation of them. O deere Father,
     It is thy businesse that I go about: Therfore great France
     My mourning, and importun'd teares hath pittied:
     No blowne Ambition doth our Armes incite,
     But loue, deere loue, and our ag'd Fathers Rite:
     Soone may I heare, and see him.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Quarta.
     
     Enter Regan, and Steward.
     
     Reg. But are my Brothers Powres set forth?
     Stew. I Madam
     
     Reg. Himselfe in person there?
     Stew. Madam with much ado:
     Your Sister is the better Souldier
     
     Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lord at home?
     Stew. No Madam
     
     Reg. What might import my Sisters Letter to him?
     Stew. I know not, Lady
     
     Reg. Faith he is poasted hence on serious matter:
     It was great ignorance, Glousters eyes being out
     To let him liue. Where he arriues, he moues
     All hearts against vs: Edmund, I thinke is gone
     In pitty of his misery, to dispatch
     His nighted life: Moreouer to descry
     The strength o'th' Enemy
     
     Stew. I must needs after him, Madam, with my Letter
     
     Reg. Our troopes set forth to morrow, stay with vs:
     The wayes are dangerous
     
     Stew. I may not Madam:
     My Lady charg'd my dutie in this busines
     
     Reg. Why should she write to Edmund?
     Might not you transport her purposes by word? Belike,
     Some things, I know not what. Ile loue thee much
     Let me vnseale the Letter
     
     Stew. Madam, I had rather-
     Reg. I know your Lady do's not loue her Husband,
     I am sure of that: and at her late being heere,
     She gaue strange Eliads, and most speaking lookes
     To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosome
     
     Stew. I, Madam?
     Reg. I speake in vnderstanding: Y'are: I know't,
     Therefore I do aduise you take this note:
     My Lord is dead: Edmond, and I haue talk'd,
     And more conuenient is he for my hand
     Then for your Ladies: You may gather more:
     If you do finde him, pray you giue him this;
     And when your Mistris heares thus much from you,
     I pray desire her call her wisedome to her.
     So fare you well:
     If you do chance to heare of that blinde Traitor,
     Preferment fals on him, that cuts him off
     
     Stew. Would I could meet Madam, I should shew
     What party I do follow
     
     Reg. Fare thee well.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     Scena Quinta.
     
     Enter Gloucester, and Edgar.
     
     Glou. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill?
     Edg. You do climbe vp it now. Look how we labor
     
     Glou. Me thinkes the ground is eeuen
     
     Edg. Horrible steepe.
     Hearke, do you heare the Sea?
     Glou. No truly
     
     Edg. Why then your other Senses grow imperfect
     By your eyes anguish
     
     Glou. So may it be indeed.
     Me thinkes thy voyce is alter'd, and thou speak'st
     In better phrase, and matter then thou did'st
     
     Edg. Y'are much deceiu'd: In nothing am I chang'd
     But in my Garments
     
     Glou. Me thinkes y'are better spoken
     
     Edg. Come on Sir,
     Heere's the place: stand still: how fearefull
     And dizie 'tis, to cast ones eyes so low,
     The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre
     Shew scarse so grosse as Beetles. Halfe way downe
     Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade:
     Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head.
     The Fishermen, that walk'd vpon the beach
     Appeare like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Barke,
     Diminish'd to her Cocke: her Cocke, a Buoy
     Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge,
     That on th' vnnumbred idle Pebble chafes
     Cannot be heard so high. Ile looke no more,
     Least my braine turne, and the deficient sight
     Topple downe headlong
     
     Glou. Set me where you stand
     
     Edg. Giue me your hand:
     You are now within a foote of th' extreme Verge:
     For all beneath the Moone would I not leape vpright
     
     Glou. Let go my hand:
     Heere Friend's another purse: in it, a Iewell
     Well worth a poore mans taking. Fayries, and Gods
     Prosper it with thee. Go thou further off,
     Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going
     
     Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir
     
     Glou. With all my heart
     
     Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire,
     Is done to cure it
     
     Glou. O you mighty Gods!
     This world I do renounce, and in your sights
     Shake patiently my great affliction off:
     If I could beare it longer, and not fall
     To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes,
     My snuffe, and loathed part of Nature should
     
     Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him:
     Now Fellow, fare thee well
     
     Edg. Gone Sir, farewell:
     And yet I know not how conceit may rob
     The Treasury of life, when life it selfe
     Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought,
     By this had thought bin past. Aliue, or dead?
     Hoa, you Sir: Friend, heare you Sir, speake:
     Thus might he passe indeed: yet he reuiues.
     What are you Sir?
     Glou. Away, and let me dye
     
     Edg. Had'st thou beene ought
     But Gozemore, Feathers, Ayre,
     (So many fathome downe precipitating)
     Thou'dst shiuer'd like an Egge: but thou do'st breath:
     Hast heauy substance, bleed'st not, speak'st, art sound,
     Ten Masts at each, make not the altitude
     Which thou hast perpendicularly fell,
     Thy life's a Myracle. Speake yet againe
     
     Glou. But haue I falne, or no?
     Edg. From the dread Somnet of this Chalkie Bourne
     Looke vp a height, the shrill-gorg'd Larke so farre
     Cannot be seene, or heard: Do but looke vp
     
     Glou. Alacke, I haue no eyes:
     Is wretchednesse depriu'd that benefit
     To end it selfe by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
     When misery could beguile the Tyrants rage,
     And frustrate his proud will
     
     Edg. Giue me your arme.
     Vp, so: How is't? Feele you your Legges? You stand
     
     Glou. Too well, too well
     
     Edg. This is aboue all strangenesse,
     Vpon the crowne o'th' Cliffe. What thing was that
     Which parted from you?
     Glou. A poore vnfortunate Beggar
     
     Edg. As I stood heere below, me thought his eyes
     Were two full Moones: he had a thousand Noses,
     Hornes wealk'd, and waued like the enraged Sea:
     It was some Fiend: Therefore thou happy Father,
     Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who make them Honors
     Of mens Impossibilities, haue preserued thee
     
     Glou. I do remember now: henceforth Ile beare
     Affliction, till it do cry out it selfe
     Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you speake of,
     I tooke it for a man: often 'twould say
     The Fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place
     
     Edgar. Beare free and patient thoughts.
     Enter Lear.
     
     But who comes heere?
     The safer sense will ne're accommodate
     His Master thus
     
     Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the
     King himselfe
     
     Edg. O thou side-piercing sight!
     Lear. Nature's aboue Art, in that respect. Ther's your
     Presse-money. That fellow handles his bow, like a Crowkeeper:
     draw mee a Cloathiers yard. Looke, looke, a
     Mouse: peace, peace, this peece of toasted Cheese will
     doo't. There's my Gauntlet, Ile proue it on a Gyant.
     Bring vp the browne Billes. O well flowne Bird: i'th'
     clout, i'th' clout: Hewgh. Giue the word
     
     Edg. Sweet Mariorum
     
     Lear. Passe
     
     Glou. I know that voice
     
     Lear. Ha! Gonerill with a white beard? They flatter'd
     me like a Dogge, and told mee I had the white hayres in
     my Beard, ere the blacke ones were there. To say I, and
     no, to euery thing that I said: I, and no too, was no good
     Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and the
     winde to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not
     peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em
     out. Go too, they are not men o'their words; they told
     me, I was euery thing: 'Tis a Lye, I am not Agu-proofe
     
     Glou. The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember:
     Is't not the King?
     Lear. I, euery inch a King.
     When I do stare, see how the Subiect quakes.
     I pardon that mans life. What was thy cause?
     Adultery? thou shalt not dye: dye for Adultery?
     No, the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly
     Do's letcher in my sight. Let Copulation thriue:
     For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his Father,
     Then my Daughters got 'tweene the lawfull sheets.
     Too't Luxury pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers.
     Behold yond simpring Dame, whose face betweene her
     Forkes presages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do's shake
     the head to heare of pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor
     the soyled Horse goes too't with a more riotous appetite:
     Downe from the waste they are Centaures, though
     Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit,
     beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkenes,
     there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench,
     consumption: Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce
     of Ciuet; good Apothecary sweeten my immagination:
     There's money for thee
     
     Glou. O let me kisse that hand
     
     Lear. Let me wipe it first,
     It smelles of Mortality
     
     Glou. O ruin'd peece of Nature, this great world
     Shall so weare out to naught.
     Do'st thou know me?
     Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough: dost thou
     squiny at me? No, doe thy worst blinde Cupid, Ile not
     loue. Reade thou this challenge, marke but the penning
     of it
     
     Glou. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not see
     
     Edg. I would not take this from report,
     It is, and my heart breakes at it
     
     Lear. Read
     
     Glou. What with the Case of eyes?
     Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No eies in your
     head, nor no mony in your purse? Your eyes are in a heauy
     case, your purse in a light, yet you see how this world
     goes
     
     Glou. I see it feelingly
     
     Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this world
     goes, with no eyes. Looke with thine eares: See how
     yond Iustice railes vpon yond simple theefe. Hearke in
     thine eare: Change places, and handy-dandy, which is
     the Iustice, which is the theefe: Thou hast seene a Farmers
     dogge barke at a Beggar?
     Glou. I Sir
     
     Lear. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou
     might'st behold the great image of Authoritie, a Dogg's
     obey'd in Office. Thou, Rascall Beadle, hold thy bloody
     hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy owne
     backe, thou hotly lusts to vse her in that kind, for which
     thou whip'st her. The Vsurer hangs the Cozener. Thorough
     tatter'd cloathes great Vices do appeare: Robes,
     and Furr'd gownes hide all. Place sinnes with Gold, and
     the strong Lance of Iustice, hurtlesse breakes: Arme it in
     ragges, a Pigmies straw do's pierce it. None do's offend,
     none, I say none, Ile able 'em; take that of me my Friend,
     who haue the power to seale th' accusers lips. Get thee
     glasse-eyes, and like a scuruy Politician, seeme to see the
     things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my
     Bootes: harder, harder, so
     
     Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt,
     Reason in Madnesse
     
     Lear. If thou wilt weepe my Fortunes, take my eyes.
     I know thee well enough, thy name is Glouster:
     Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
     Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the Ayre
     We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Marke
     
     Glou. Alacke, alacke the day
     
     Lear. When we are borne, we cry that we are come
     To this great stage of Fooles. This a good blocke:
     It were a delicate stratagem to shoo
     A Troope of Horse with Felt: Ile put't in proofe,
     And when I haue stolne vpon these Son in Lawes,
     Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
     Enter a Gentleman.
     
     Gent. Oh heere he is: lay hand vpon him, Sir.
     Your most deere Daughter-
     Lear. No rescue? What, a Prisoner? I am euen
     The Naturall Foole of Fortune. Vse me well,
     You shall haue ransome. Let me haue Surgeons,
     I am cut to'th' Braines
     
     Gent. You shall haue any thing
     
     Lear. No Seconds? All my selfe?
     Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt
     To vse his eyes for Garden water-pots. I wil die brauely,
     Like a smugge Bridegroome. What? I will be Iouiall:
     Come, come, I am a King, Masters, know you that?
     Gent. You are a Royall 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.
     Enter.
     
     Gent. A sight most pittifull in the meanest wretch,
     Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast a Daughter
     Who redeemes Nature from the generall curse
     Which twaine haue brought her to
     
     Edg. Haile gentle Sir
     
     Gent. Sir, speed you: what's your will?
     Edg. Do you heare ought (Sir) of a Battell toward
     
     Gent. Most sure, and vulgar:
     Euery one heares that, which can distinguish sound
     
     Edg. But by your fauour:
     How neere's the other Army?
     Gent. Neere, and on speedy foot: the maine descry
     Stands on the hourely thought
     
     Edg. I thanke you Sir, that's all
     
     Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here
     Her Army is mou'd on.
     Enter.
     
     Edg. I thanke you Sir
     
     Glou. You euer gentle Gods, take my breath from me,
     Let not my worser Spirit tempt me againe
     To dye before you please
     
     Edg. Well pray you Father
     
     Glou. Now good sir, what are you?
     Edg. A most poore man, made tame to Fortunes blows
     Who, by the Art of knowne, and feeling sorrowes,
     Am pregnant to good pitty. Giue me your hand,
     Ile leade you to some biding
     
     Glou. Heartie thankes:
     The bountie, and the benizon of Heauen
     To boot, and boot.
     Enter Steward.
     
     Stew. A proclaim'd prize: most happie
     That eyelesse head of thine, was first fram'd flesh
     To raise my fortunes. Thou old, vnhappy Traitor,
     Breefely thy selfe remember: the Sword is out
     That must destroy thee
     
     Glou. Now let thy friendly hand
     Put strength enough too't
     
     Stew. Wherefore, bold Pezant,
     Dar'st thou support a publish'd Traitor? Hence,
     Least that th' infection of his fortune take
     Like hold on thee. Let go his arme
     
     Edg. Chill not let go Zir,
     Without vurther 'casion
     
     Stew. Let go Slaue, or thou dy'st
     
     Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, and let poore
     volke passe: and 'chud ha' bin zwaggerd out of my life,
     'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis, by a vortnight. Nay,
     come not neere th' old man: keepe out che vor' ye, or Ile
     try whither your Costard, or my Ballow be the harder;
     chill be plaine with you
     
     Stew. Out Dunghill
     
     Edg. Chill picke your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor
     your foynes
     
     Stew. Slaue thou hast slaine me: Villain, take my purse;
     If euer thou wilt thriue, bury my bodie,
     And giue the Letters which thou find'st about me,
     To Edmund Earle of Glouster: seeke him out
     Vpon the English party. Oh vntimely death, death
     
     Edg. I know thee well. A seruiceable Villaine,
     As duteous to the vices of thy Mistris,
     As badnesse would desire
     
     Glou. What, is he dead?
     Edg. Sit you downe Father: rest you.
     Let's see these Pockets; the Letters that he speakes of
     May be my Friends: hee's dead; I am onely sorry
     He had no other Deathsman. Let vs see:
     Leaue gentle waxe, and manners: blame vs not
     To know our enemies mindes, we rip their hearts,
     Their Papers is more lawfull.
     
     Reads the Letter.
     
     Let our reciprocall vowes be remembred. You haue manie
     opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and
     place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done. If hee
     returne the Conqueror, then am I the Prisoner, and his bed, my
     Gaole, from the loathed warmth whereof, deliuer me, and supply
     the place for your Labour.
     Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate
     Seruant. Gonerill.
     Oh indistinguish'd space of Womans will,
     A plot vpon her vertuous Husbands life,
     And the exchange my Brother: heere, in the sands
     Thee Ile rake vp, the poste vnsanctified
     Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time,
     With this vngracious paper strike the sight
     Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well,
     That of thy death, and businesse, I can tell
     
     Glou. The King is mad:
     How stiffe is my vilde sense
     That I stand vp, and haue ingenious feeling
     Of my huge Sorrowes? Better I were distract,
     So should my thoughts be seuer'd from my greefes,
     
     Drum afarre off.
     
     And woes, by wrong imaginations loose
     The knowledge of themselues
     
     Edg. Giue me your hand:
     Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten Drumme.
     Come Father, Ile bestow you with a Friend.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scaena Septima.
     
     Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.
     
     Cor. O thou good Kent,
     How shall I liue and worke
     To match thy goodnesse?
     My life will be too short,
     And euery measure faile me
     
     Kent. To be acknowledg'd Madam is ore-pai'd,
     All my reports go with the modest truth,
     Nor more, nor clipt, but so
     
     Cor. Be better suited,
     These weedes are memories of those worser houres:
     I prythee put them off
     
     Kent. Pardon deere Madam,
     Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent,
     My boone I make it, that you know me not,
     Till time, and I, thinke meet
     
     Cor. Then be't so my good Lord:
     How do's the King?
     Gent. Madam sleepes still
     
     Cor. O you kind Gods!
     Cure this great breach in his abused Nature,
     Th' vntun'd and iarring senses, O winde vp,
     Of this childe-changed Father
     
     Gent. So please your Maiesty,
     That we may wake the King, he hath slept long?
     Cor. Be gouern'd by your knowledge, and proceede
     I'th' sway of your owne will: is he array'd?
     Enter Lear in a chaire carried by Seruants]
     Gent. I Madam: in the heauinesse of sleepe,
     We put fresh garments on him.
     Be by good Madam when we do awake him,
     I doubt of his Temperance
     
     Cor. O my deere Father, restauratian hang
     Thy medicine on my lippes, and let this kisse
     Repaire those violent harmes, that my two Sisters
     Haue in thy Reuerence made
     
     Kent. Kind and deere Princesse
     
     Cor. Had you not bin their Father, these white flakes
     Did challenge pitty of them. Was this a face
     To be oppos'd against the iarring windes?
     Mine Enemies dogge, though he had bit me,
     Should haue stood that night against my fire,
     And was't thou faine (poore Father)
     To houell thee with Swine and Rogues forlorne,
     In short, and musty straw? Alacke, alacke,
     'Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once
     Had not concluded all. He wakes, speake to him
     
     Gen. Madam do you, 'tis fittest
     
     Cor. How does my Royall Lord?
     How fares your Maiesty?
     Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o'th' graue,
     Thou art a Soule in blisse, but I am bound
     Vpon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares
     Do scal'd, like molten Lead
     
     Cor. Sir, do you know me?
     Lear. You are a spirit I know, where did you dye?
     Cor. Still, still, farre wide
     
     Gen. He's scarse awake,
     Let him alone a while
     
     Lear. Where haue I bin?
     Where am I? Faire day light?
     I am mightily abus'd; I should eu'n dye with pitty
     To see another thus. I know not what to say:
     I will not sweare these are my hands: let's see,
     I feele this pin pricke, would I were assur'd
     Of my condition
     
     Cor. O looke vpon me Sir,
     And hold your hand in benediction o're me,
     You must not kneele
     
     Lear. Pray do not mocke me:
     I am a very foolish fond old man,
     Fourescore and vpward,
     Not an houre more, nor lesse:
     And to deale plainely,
     I feare I am not in my perfect mind.
     Me thinkes I should know you, and know this man,
     Yet I am doubtfull: For I am mainely ignorant
     What place this is: and all the skill I haue
     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 thinke this Lady
     To be my childe Cordelia
     
     Cor. And so I am: I am
     
     Lear. Be your teares wet?
     Yes faith: I pray weepe not,
     If you haue poyson for me, I will drinke it:
     I know you do not loue me, for your Sisters
     Haue (as I do remember) done me wrong.
     You haue some cause, they haue not
     
     Cor. No cause, no cause
     
     Lear. Am I in France?
     Kent. In your owne kingdome Sir
     
     Lear. Do not abuse me
     
     Gent. Be comforted good Madam, the great rage
     You see is kill'd in him: desire him to go in,
     Trouble him no more till further setling
     
     Cor. Wilt please your Highnesse walke?
     Lear. You must beare with me:
     Pray you now forget, and forgiue,
     I am old and foolish.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
     
     Enter with Drumme and Colours, Edmund, Regan. Gentlemen, and
     Souldiers.
     
     Bast. Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold,
     Or whether since he is aduis'd by ought
     To change the course, he's full of alteration,
     And selfereprouing, bring his constant pleasure
     
     Reg. Our Sisters man is certainely miscarried
     
     Bast. 'Tis to be doubted Madam
     
     Reg. Now sweet Lord,
     You know the goodnesse I intend vpon you:
     Tell me but truly, but then speake the truth,
     Do you not loue my Sister?
     Bast. In honour'd Loue
     
     Reg. But haue you neuer found my Brothers way,
     To the fore-fended place?
     Bast. No by mine honour, Madam
     
     Reg. I neuer shall endure her, deere my Lord
     Be not familiar with her
     
     Bast. Feare not, she and the Duke her husband.
     Enter with Drum and Colours, Albany, Gonerill, Soldiers.
     
     Alb. Our very louing 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
     
     Regan. Why is this reasond?
     Gone. Combine together 'gainst the Enemie:
     For these domesticke and particular broiles,
     Are not the question heere
     
     Alb. Let's then determine with th' ancient of warre
     On our proceeding
     
     Reg. Sister you'le go with vs?
     Gon. No
     
     Reg. 'Tis most conuenient, pray go with vs
     
     Gon. Oh ho, I know the Riddle, I will goe.
     
     Exeunt. both the Armies.
     
     Enter Edgar.
     
     Edg. If ere your Grace had speech with man so poore,
     Heare me one word
     
     Alb. Ile ouertake you, speake
     
     Edg. Before you fight the Battaile, ope this Letter:
     If you haue victory, let the Trumpet sound
     For him that brought it: wretched though I seeme,
     I can produce a Champion, that will proue
     What is auouched there. If you miscarry,
     Your businesse of the world hath so an end,
     And machination ceases. Fortune loues you
     
     Alb. Stay till I haue read the Letter
     
     Edg. I was forbid it:
     When time shall serue, let but the Herald cry,
     And Ile appeare againe.
     Enter.
     
     Alb. Why farethee well, I will o're-looke thy paper.
     Enter Edmund.
     
     Bast. The Enemy's in view, draw vp your powers,
     Heere is the guesse of their true strength and Forces,
     By dilligent discouerie, but your hast
     Is now vrg'd on you
     
     Alb. We will greet the time.
     Enter.
     
     Bast. To both these Sisters haue I sworne my loue:
     Each iealous of the other, as the stung
     Are of the Adder. Which of them shall I take?
     Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enioy'd
     If both remaine aliue: To take the Widdow,
     Exasperates, makes mad her Sister Gonerill,
     And hardly shall I carry out my side,
     Her husband being aliue. Now then, wee'l vse
     His countenance for the Battaile, which being done,
     Let her who would be rid of him, deuise
     His speedy taking off. As for the mercie
     Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
     The Battaile done, and they within our power,
     Shall neuer see his pardon: for my state,
     Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
     Enter.
     
     
     Scena Secunda.
     
     Alarum within. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Lear, Cordelia,
     and
     Souldiers, ouer the Stage, and Exeunt. Enter Edgar, and Gloster.
     
     Edg. Heere Father, take the shadow of this Tree
     For your good hoast: pray that the right may thriue:
     If euer I returne to you againe,
     Ile bring you comfort
     
     Glo. Grace go with you Sir.
     Enter.
     
     Alarum and Retreat within. Enter Edgar.
     
     Edgar. Away old man, giue me thy hand, away:
     King Lear hath lost, he and his Daughter tane,
     Giue me thy hand: Come on
     
     Glo. No further Sir, a man may rot euen heere
     
     Edg. What in ill thoughts againe?
     Men must endure
     Their going hence, euen as their comming hither,
     Ripenesse is all come on
     
     Glo. And that's true too.
     
     Exeunt.
     
     
     Scena Tertia.
     
     Enter in conquest with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Lear, and
     Cordelia, as
     prisoners, Souldiers, Captaine.
     
     Bast. Some Officers take them away: good guard,
     Vntill their greater pleasures first be knowne
     That are to censure them
     
     Cor. We are not the first,
     Who with best meaning haue incurr'd the worst:
     
     For thee oppressed King I am cast downe,
     My selfe could else out-frowne false Fortunes frowne.
     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'th' Cage:
     When thou dost aske me blessing, Ile kneele downe
     And aske of thee forgiuenesse: So wee'l liue,
     And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
     At gilded Butterflies: and heere (poore Rogues)
     Talke of Court newes, and wee'l talke with them too,
     Who looses, and who wins; who's in, who's out;
     And take vpon's the mystery of things,
     As if we were Gods spies: And wee'l weare out
     In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
     That ebbe and flow by th' Moone
     
     Bast. Take them away
     
     Lear. Vpon such sacrifices my Cordelia,
     The Gods themselues throw Incense.
     Haue I caught thee?
     He that parts vs, shall bring a Brand from Heauen,
     And fire vs hence, like Foxes: wipe thine eyes,
     The good yeares shall deuoure them, flesh and fell,
     Ere they shall make vs weepe?
     Weele see 'em staru'd first: come.
     Enter.
     
     Bast. Come hither Captaine, hearke.
     Take thou this note, go follow them to prison,
     One step I haue aduanc'd thee, if thou do'st
     As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
     To Noble Fortunes: know thou this, that men
     Are as the time is; to be tender minded
     Do's not become a Sword, thy great imployment
     Will not beare question: either say thou'lt do't,
     Or thriue by other meanes
     
     Capt. Ile do't my Lord
     
     Bast. About it, and write happy, when th'hast done,
     Marke I say instantly, and carry it so
     As I haue set it downe.
     
     Exit Captaine.
     
     Flourish. Enter Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Soldiers.
     
     Alb. Sir, you haue shew'd to day your valiant straine
     And Fortune led you well: you haue the Captiues
     Who were the opposites of this dayes strife:
     I do require them of you so to vse them,
     As we shall find their merites, and our safety
     May equally determine
     
     Bast. Sir, I thought it fit,
     To send the old and miserable King to some retention,
     Whose age had Charmes in it, whose Title more,
     To plucke the common bosome on his side,
     And turne our imprest Launces in our eies
     Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen:
     My reason all the same, and they are ready
     To morrow, or at further space, t' appeare
     Where you shall hold your Session
     
     Alb. Sir, by your patience,
     I hold you but a subiect of this Warre,
     Not as a Brother
     
     Reg. That's as we list to grace him.
     Methinkes our pleasure might haue bin demanded
     Ere you had spoke so farre. He led our Powers,
     Bore the Commission of my place and person,
     The which immediacie may well stand vp,
     And call it selfe your Brother
     
     Gon. Not so hot:
     In his owne grace he doth exalt himselfe,
     More then in your addition
     
     Reg. In my rights,
     By me inuested, he compeeres the best
     
     Alb. That were the most, if he should husband you
     
     Reg. Iesters do oft proue Prophets
     
     Gon. Hola, hola,
     That eye that told you so, look'd but a squint
     
     Rega. Lady I am not well, else I should answere
     From a full flowing stomack. Generall,
     Take thou my Souldiers, prisoners, patrimony,
     Dispose of them, of me, the walls is thine:
     Witnesse the world, that I create thee heere
     My Lord, and Master
     
     Gon. Meane you to enioy him?
     Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will
     
     Bast. Nor in thine Lord
     
     Alb. Halfe-blooded fellow, yes
     
     Reg. Let the Drum strike, and proue my title thine
     
     Alb. Stay yet, heare reason: Edmund, I arrest thee
     On capitall Treason; and in thy arrest,
     This guilded Serpent: for your claime faire Sisters,
     I bare it in the interest of my wife,
     'Tis she is sub-contracted to this Lord,
     And I her husband contradict your Banes.
     If you will marry, make your loues to me,
     My Lady is bespoke
     
     Gon. An enterlude
     
     Alb. Thou art armed Gloster,
     Let the Trumpet sound:
     If none appeare to proue vpon thy person,
     Thy heynous, manifest, and many Treasons,
     There is my pledge: Ile make it on thy heart
     Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing lesse
     Then I haue heere proclaim'd thee
     
     Reg. Sicke, O sicke
     
     Gon. If not, Ile nere trust medicine
     
     Bast. There's my exchange, what in the world hes
     That names me Traitor, villain-like he lies,
     Call by the Trumpet: he that dares approach;
     On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine
     My truth and honor firmely.
     Enter a Herald.
     
     Alb. A Herald, ho.
     Trust to thy single vertue, for thy Souldiers
     All leuied in my name, haue in my name
     Tooke their discharge
     
     Regan. My sicknesse growes vpon me
     
     Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my Tent.
     Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet sound,
     And read out this.
     
     A Trumpet sounds.
     
     Herald reads.
     
     If any man of qualitie or degree, within the lists of the Army,
     will maintaine vpon Edmund, supposed Earle of Gloster,
     that he is a manifold Traitor, let him appeare by the third
     sound of the Trumpet: he is bold in his defence.
     
     1 Trumpet.
     
     Her. Againe.
     
     2 Trumpet.
     
     Her. Againe.
     
     3 Trumpet.
     
     Trumpet answers within.
     
     Enter Edgar armed.
     
     Alb. Aske him his purposes, why he appeares
     Vpon this Call o'th' Trumpet
     
     Her. What are you?
     Your name, your quality, and why you answer
     This present Summons?
     Edg. Know my name is lost
     By Treasons tooth: bare-gnawne, and Canker-bit,
     Yet am I Noble as the Aduersary
     I come to cope
     
     Alb. Which is that Aduersary?
     Edg. What's he that speakes for Edmund Earle of Gloster?
     Bast. Himselfe, what saist thou to him?
     Edg. Draw thy Sword,
     That if my speech offend a Noble heart,
     Thy arme may do thee Iustice, heere is mine:
     Behold it is my priuiledge,
     The priuiledge of mine Honours,
     My oath, and my profession. I protest,
     Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,
     Despise thy victor-Sword, and fire new Fortune,
     Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a Traitor:
     False to thy Gods, thy Brother, and thy Father,
     Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious Prince,
     And from th' extremest vpward of thy head,
     To the discent and dust below thy foote,
     A most Toad-spotted Traitor. Say thou no,
     This Sword, this arme, and my best spirits are bent
     To proue vpon thy heart, where to I speake,
     Thou lyest
     
     Bast. In wisedome I should aske thy name,
     But since thy out-side lookes so faire and Warlike,
     And that thy tongue (some say) of breeding breathes,
     What safe, and nicely I might well delay,
     By rule of Knight-hood, I disdaine and spurne:
     Backe do I tosse these Treasons to thy head,
     With the hell-hated Lye, ore-whelme thy heart,
     Which for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,
     This Sword of mine shall giue them instant way,
     Where they shall rest for euer. Trumpets speake
     
     Alb. Saue him, saue him.
     
     Alarums. Fights.
     
     Gon. This is practise Gloster,
     By th' law of Warre, thou wast not bound to answer
     An vnknowne opposite: thou art not vanquish'd,
     But cozend, and beguild
     
     Alb. Shut your mouth Dame,
     Or with this paper shall I stop it: hold Sir,
     Thou worse then any name, reade thine owne euill:
     No tearing Lady, I perceiue you know it
     
     Gon. Say if I do, the Lawes are mine not thine,
     Who can araigne me for't?
     Enter.
     
     Alb. Most monstrous! O, know'st thou this paper?
     Bast. Aske me not what I know
     
     Alb. Go after her, she's desperate, gouerne her
     
     Bast. What you haue charg'd me with,
     That haue I done,
     And more, much more, the time will bring it out.
     'Tis past, and so am I: But what art thou
     That hast this Fortune on me? If thou'rt Noble,
     I do forgiue thee
     
     Edg. Let's exchange charity:
     I am no lesse in blood then thou art Edmond,
     If more, the more th'hast wrong'd me.
     My name is Edgar and thy Fathers Sonne,
     The Gods are iust, and of our pleasant vices
     Make instruments to plague vs:
     The darke and vitious place where thee he got,
     Cost him his eyes
     
     Bast. Th'hast spoken right, 'tis true,
     The Wheele is come full circle, I am heere
     
     Alb. Me thought thy very gate did prophesie
     A Royall Noblenesse: I must embrace thee,
     Let sorrow split my heart, if euer I
     Did hate thee, or thy Father
     
     Edg. Worthy Prince I know't
     
     Alb. Where haue you hid your selfe?
     How haue you knowne the miseries of your Father?
     Edg. By nursing them my Lord. List a breefe tale,
     And when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst.
     The bloody proclamation to escape
     That follow'd me so neere, (O our liues sweetnesse,
     That we the paine of death would hourely dye,
     Rather then die at once) taught me to shift
     Into a mad-mans rags, t' assume a semblance
     That very Dogges disdain'd: and in this habit
     Met I my Father with his bleeding Rings,
     Their precious Stones new lost: became his guide,
     Led him, begg'd for him, sau'd him from dispaire.
     Neuer (O fault) reueal'd my selfe vnto him,
     Vntill some halfe houre past when I was arm'd,
     Not sure, though hoping of this good successe,
     I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
     Told him our pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart
     (Alacke too weake the conflict to support)
     Twixt two extremes of passion, ioy and greefe,
     Burst smilingly
     
     Bast. This speech of yours hath mou'd me,
     And shall perchance do good, but speake you on,
     You looke as you had something more to say
     
     Alb. If there be more, more wofull, hold it in,
     For I am almost ready to dissolue,
     Hearing of this.
     Enter a Gentleman.
     
     Gen. Helpe, helpe: O helpe
     
     Edg. What kinde of helpe?
     Alb. Speake man
     
     Edg. What meanes this bloody Knife?
     Gen. 'Tis hot, it smoakes, it came euen from the heart
     of- O she's dead
     
     Alb. Who dead? Speake man
     
     Gen. Your Lady Sir, your Lady; and her Sister
     By her is poyson'd: she confesses it
     
     Bast. I was contracted to them both, all three
     Now marry in an instant
     
     Edg. Here comes Kent.
     Enter Kent.
     
     Alb. Produce the bodies, be they aliue or dead;
     
     Gonerill and Regans bodies brought out.
     
     This iudgement of the Heauens that makes vs tremble.
     Touches vs not with pitty: O, is this he?
     The time will not allow the complement
     Which very manners vrges
     
     Kent. I am come
     To bid my King and Master aye good night.
     Is he not here?
     Alb. Great thing of vs forgot,
     Speake Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia?
     Seest thou this obiect Kent?
     Kent. Alacke, why thus?
     Bast. Yet Edmund was belou'd:
     The one the other poison'd for my sake,
     And after slew herselfe
     
     Alb. Euen so: couer their faces
     
     Bast. I pant for life: some good I meane to do
     Despight of mine owne Nature. Quickly send,
     (Be briefe in it) to'th' Castle, for my Writ
     Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:
     Nay, send in time
     
     Alb. Run, run, O run
     
     Edg. To who my Lord? Who ha's the Office?
     Send thy token of repreeue
     
     Bast. Well thought on, take my Sword,
     Giue it the Captaine
     
     Edg. Hast thee for thy life
     
     Bast. He hath Commission from thy Wife and me,
     To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
     To lay the blame vpon her owne dispaire,
     That she for-did her selfe
     
     Alb. The Gods defend her, beare him hence awhile.
     Enter Lear with Cordelia in his armes.
     
     Lear. Howle, howle, howle: O you are men of stones,
     Had I your tongues and eyes, Il'd vse them so,
     That Heauens vault should crack: she's gone for euer.
     I know when one is dead, and when one liues,
     She's dead as earth: Lend me a Looking-glasse,
     If that her breath will mist or staine the stone,
     Why then she liues
     
     Kent. Is this the promis'd end?
     Edg. Or image of that horror
     
     Alb. Fall and cease
     
     Lear. This feather stirs, she liues: if it be so,
     It is a chance which do's redeeme all sorrowes
     That euer I haue felt
     
     Kent. O my good Master
     
     Lear. Prythee away
     
     Edg. 'Tis Noble Kent your Friend
     
     Lear. A plague vpon you Murderors, Traitors all,
     I might haue sau'd her, now she's gone for euer:
     Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha:
     What is't thou saist? Her voice was euer soft,
     Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
     I kill'd the Slaue that was a hanging thee
     
     Gent. 'Tis true (my Lords) he did
     
     Lear. Did I not fellow?
     I haue seene the day, with my good biting Faulchion
     I would haue made him skip: I am old now,
     And these same crosses spoile me. Who are you?
     Mine eyes are not o'th' best, Ile tell you straight
     
     Kent. If Fortune brag of two, she lou'd and hated,
     One of them we behold
     
     Lear. This is a dull sight, are you not Kent?
     Kent. The same: your Seruant Kent,
     Where is your Seruant Caius?
     Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that,
     He'le strike and quickly too, he's dead and rotten
     
     Kent. No my good Lord, I am the very man
     
     Lear. Ile see that straight
     
     Kent. That from your first of difference and decay,
     Haue follow'd your sad steps
     
     Lear. You are welcome hither
     
     Kent. Nor no man else:
     All's cheerlesse, darke, and deadly,
     Your eldest Daughters haue fore-done themselues,
     And desperately are dead
     Lear. I so I thinke
     
     Alb. He knowes not what he saies, and vaine is it
     That we present vs to him.
     Enter a Messenger.
     
     Edg. Very bootlesse
     
     Mess. Edmund is dead my Lord
     
     Alb. That's but a trifle heere:
     You Lords and Noble Friends, know our intent,
     What comfort to this great decay may come,
     Shall be appli'd. For vs we will resigne,
     During the life of this old Maiesty
     To him our absolute power, you to your rights,
     With boote, and such addition as your Honours
     Haue more then merited. All Friends shall
     Taste the wages of their vertue, and all Foes
     The cup of their deseruings: O see, see
     
     Lear. And my poore Foole is hang'd: no, no, no life?
     Why should a Dog, a Horse, a Rat haue life,
     And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
     Neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer.
     Pray you vndo this Button. Thanke you Sir,
     Do you see this? Looke on her? Looke her lips,
     Looke there, looke there.
     
     He dies.
     
     Edg. He faints, my Lord, my Lord
     
     Kent. Breake heart, I prythee breake
     
     Edg. Looke vp my Lord
     
     Kent. Vex not his ghost, O let him passe, he hates him,
     That would vpon the wracke of this tough world
     Stretch him out longer
     
     Edg. He is gon indeed
     
     Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long,
     He but vsurpt his life
     
     Alb. Beare them from hence, our present businesse
     Is generall woe: Friends of my soule, you twaine,
     Rule in this Realme, and the gor'd state sustaine
     
     Kent. I haue a iourney Sir, shortly to go,
     My Master calls me, I must not say no
     
     Edg. The waight of this sad time we must obey,
     Speake what we feele, not what we ought to say:
     The oldest hath borne most, we that are yong,
     Shall neuer see so much, nor liue so long.
     
     Exeunt. with a dead March.