Will you, with those infirmities she owes, 25) Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, For you, great king, That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection Cor. Better thou Had'st not been born, than not to have pleas'd me better. France. Is it but this? 29) a tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke, That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy, What say you to the lady? Love is not love, When it is mingled with respects, 3o) that stand poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd! My love should kindle to inflam'd respect. Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see [Flourish. Exeunt LEAR, BURGUNDY, CORN- Gon. Prescribe not us our duties. Let your study Be, to content your lord; who hath receiv'd you At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you have wanted Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited cunning 33) hides; Gon. You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little: he always loved our sister most; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off, appears too grossly. Reg. "Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself. Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engrafted condition, 34) but, therewithal, the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them. Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him, as this of Kent's banishment. A Hall in the Earl of Gloster's Castle. Enter EDMUND, with a Letter. Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess; 37) to thy law Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? Enter GLOSTER. Edm. I know no news, my lord. Glo. No? what needed then that terrible despatch of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see: Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read; for so much as I have perus'd, I find it not fit for your overlooking. Glo. Give me the letter, sir. Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. Glo. Let's see, let's see. Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue. Glo. [Reads.] This policy, and reverence of age, makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us, till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond 4) bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should Edm. It is his hand, my lord; but I hope, his heart is not in the contents. Glo. Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business? him maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, Edm. Never, my lord: But I have often heard and fathers declining, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. Glo. O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah, seek him; I'll apprehend him: Abominable villain! Where is he? Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother, till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain course; where, if you 45) violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, 46) and to no other pretence 47) of danger. Glo. Think you so? Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and that without any further delay than this very evening. Glo. He cannot be such a monster. Edm. Nor is not, sure. Glo. To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray you; frame the business after your own wisdom: I would unstate myself, to be in a due resolution. 48) Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the business 49) as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal. Glo. These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us: Though the wisdom of nature 50) can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects: love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked between son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father; the king falls from bias of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best of our time: Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves! Find out this villain, Edmund: it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully: And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his offence, honesty!- Strange! strange! Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the world! that, when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeit of our own behaviour), we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we [Exit. were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers, 5) by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on: An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail: and my nativity was under ursa major; so that it follows, I am rough and lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar Enter EDGAR. and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy; my cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o'Bedlam. O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi. 52) Edg. How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation are you in? Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses. Edg. Do you busy yourself with that? Edm. I promise you, the effects he writes of, succeed unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what. Edg. How long have you been a sectary astronomical? Edm. Come, come; when saw you my father last? Edg. Why, the night gone by. Edm. Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him, by word, or countenance? Edg. None at all. Edm. Bethink yourself, wherein you may have offended him and at my entreaty, forbear his presence, till some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay. Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. Edm. That's my fear. I pray you, have 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 hear my lord speak: Pray you, go; there's my key: If you do stir abroad, go armed. Edg. Armed, brother? Edm. Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed; I am no honest man, if there be any good meaning towards you: I have told you what I have seen and heard, but faintly; nothing like the image and horror of it: Pray you, away. Edg. Shall I hear from you anon? [Exit EDGAR. A credulous father, and a brother noble, [Exit. SCENE III. A Room in the Duke of Albany's Palace. Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? Stew. Ay, madam. Gon. By day and night! he wrongs me; every hour He flashes into one gross crime or other, His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us On every trifle: When he returns from hunting, I will not speak with him; say, I am sick: If you come slack of former services, You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. Stew. He's coming, madam; I hear him. That set us all at odds: I'll not endure it: [Horns within Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question: If he dislike it, let him to my sister, Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, Not to be over-rul'd. Idle old man, That still would manage those authorities, That he hath given away! Now, by my life, Old fools are babes again; and must be us'd With checks, as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd. 53) Remember what I have said. Very well, madam. Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among you; What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so: SCENE IV. A Hall in the same. Enter KENT, disguised. Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, That can my speech diffuse, 54) my good intent May carry through itself to that full issue For which I raz'd my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent, If thou can'st serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, (So may it come!) thy master, whom thou lov'st, Shall find thee full of labours. Horns within. Enter LBAR, Knights, and Attendants. Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go, get it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How now, what art thou? Kent. A man, sir. Lear. What dost thou profess? What would'st thou with us? Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly, that will put me in trust; to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; 55) to fear judgment; to fight, when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish. 56) Lear. What art thou? Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king. Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is for a king, thou art poor enough. What would'st thou? Kent. Service. Lear. Who would'st thou serve? Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow? Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my judgment, your highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a great abatement of kindness appears, as well in the general dependants, as in the duke himself also, and your daughter. Lear. Ha! say'st thou so? Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken: for my duty cannot be silent, when I think your highness is wrong'd. Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine own conception; I have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity, 57) than as a very pretence 58) and purpose of unkindness: I will look further into't. But where's my fool? I have not seen him this two days. Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away. 59) Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with her. -Go you, call hither my fool. Re-enter Steward. O, you sir, you sir, come you hither: Who am I, sir? Stew. My lady's father. Lear. My lady's father! my lord's knave: you whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! Stew. I am none of this, my lord; I beseech you, pardon me. Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? [Striking him. Stew. I'll not be struck, my lord. Kent. Nor tripped neither; you base foot-ball player. [Tripping up his heels. Lear. I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love thee. Kent. Come, sir, arise, away; I'll teach you differences; away, away: If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry: but away: go to; Have you wisdom? so. [Pushes the Steward out. Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's earnest of thy service. [Giving KENT Money. Enter Fool. Fool. Let me hire him too; Here's my coxcomb. [Giving KENT his Cap. Lear. How now, my pretty knave? how dost thou? Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. Kent. Why, fool? favour: Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind Fool. Why? For taking one's part that is out of sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly: There, take my daughters, and did the third a blessing against his coxcomb: Why, this fellow has banish'd two of his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. - How, now, nuncle? 'Would I had two coxcombs, and two daughters! Lear. Why, my boy? Fool. If I gave them all my living, 6o) I'd keep my coxcombs myself: There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. Lear. Take heed, sirrah; the whip. Fool. Truth's a dog that must to kennel; he must stand by the fire and stink. be whipp'd out, when Lady, the brach, 61) may Lear. A pestilent gall to me! Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. Fool. Mark it, nuncle: Have more than thou showest, And thou shalt have more Than two tens to a score. Lear. This is nothing, fool. Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you gave me nothing for't: Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. Fool. 'Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to; he will not believe a fool. [TO KENT. Lear. A bitter fool! Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool? Lear. No, lad; teach me. Fool. That lord, that counsel'd thee Will presently appear; The other found out there. Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy? Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with. Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. Fool. No, 'faith, lords and great men will not let me; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't: 64) and ladies too, they will not let me have Give me all fool to myself; they'll be snatching an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns. Lear. What two crowns shall they be? Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i'the middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg, When thou clovest thy crown i'the middle, and gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy back over the dirt: Thou had'st little wit in thy bald crown, when thou gavest thy golden one -- away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be || Ha! sure 'tis not so. Who is it that can tell me whipp'd that first finds it so. Fools had ne'er less grace in a year;65) For wise men are grown foppish; And know not how their wits to wear, Their manners are so apish. who I am? Lear's shadow? I would learn that; [Singing. reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters. 71) for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge and Fool. Which they will make an obedient father. 72) Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman? Gon. Come, sir; Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? Fool. I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy daughters thy mother: for when thou gavest them the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches, Then they for sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peep, And go the fools among. [Singing. 'Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie. Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd. Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters are: they'll have me whipp'd for speaking true, thou❜lt have me whipp'd for lying; and, sometimes, I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind of thing, than a fool: and yet I would|| not be thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o'both sides, and left nothing in the middle: Here comes one o'the parings. Enter GONERIL. Lear. How now, daughter? what makes that frontlet") on? Methinks you are too much of late i'the frown. Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou had'st no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a figure: I am better than thou art now: I am a fool, thou art nothing. Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face [to GoN.] bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, He that keeps nor crust nor crum, Weary of all, shall want some. [Pointing to LEAB. That's a sheal'd peascod. 67) Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth, In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, I had thought, by making this well known unto you, Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep; The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had its head bit off by its young. So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. 70) Lear. Are you our daughter? Gon. Come, sir, I would, you would make use of that good wisdom whereof I know you are fraught: and put away these dispositions, which of late transform you from what you rightly are. Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee. Lear. Does any here know me? Why this is not Lear: does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or his discernings are lethargied. Sleeping or waking? This admiration is much o'the favour 73) Darkness and devils! Gon. You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble Make servants of their betters. Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend, nature - Dry up in her the organs of increase; [Eril. Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause; |