The Tragedie of King Lear

William Shakespeare

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  • The Tragedie of King Lear
  • The Tragedie of King Lear


    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.



    FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF KING LEAR.