4I thought the King had more affected the

5Duke of Albany, then Cornwall.

6Glou. It did alwayes seeme so to vs: But

7now in the diuision of the Kingdome, it ap-

8peares not which of the Dukes hee valewes

9most, for qualities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in nei-

10ther, can make choise of eithers moity.

11Kent. Is not this your Son, my Lord?

12Glou. His breeding Sir, hath bin at my charge. I haue

13so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am

14braz'd too't.

15Kent. I cannot conceiue you.

16Glou. Sir, this yong Fellowes mother could; where-

17vpon she grew round womb'd, and had indeede (Sir) a

18Sonne for her Cradle, ere she had husband for her bed.

19Do you smell a fault?

20Kent. I cannot wish the fault vndone, the issue of it,

21being so proper.

22Glou. But I haue a Sonne, Sir, by order of Law, some

23yeere elder then this; who, yet is no deerer in my ac-

24count, though this Knaue came somthing sawcily to the

25world before he was sent for: yet was his Mother fayre,

26there was good sport at his making, and the horson must

27be acknowledged. Doe you know this Noble Gentle-

28man, Edmond?

29Edm. No, my Lord.

30Glou. My Lord of Kent:

31Remember him heereafter, as my Honourable Friend.

32Edm. My seruices to your Lordship.

33Kent. I must loue you, and sue to know you better.

34Edm. Sir, I shall study deseruing.

35Glou. He hath bin out nine yeares, and away he shall

36againe. The King is comming.

39Lear. Attend the Lords of France & Burgundy, Gloster.

40Glou. I shall, my Lord. Exit.

41Lear. Meane time we shal expresse our darker purpose.

42Giue me the Map there. Know, that we haue diuided

43In three our Kingdome: and 'tis our fast intent,

44To shake all Cares and Businesse from our Age,

45Conferring them on yonger strengths, while we

46Vnburthen'd crawle toward death. Our son of Cornwal,

47And you our no lesse louing Sonne of Albany,

48We haue this houre a constant will to publish

49Our daughters seuerall Dowers, that future strife

50May be preuented now. The Princes, France & Burgundy,

51Great Riuals in our yongest daughters loue,

52Long in our Court, haue made their amorous soiourne,

53And heere are to be answer'd. Tell me my daughters

54(Since now we will diuest vs both of Rule,

55Interest of Territory, Cares of State)

56Which of you shall we say doth loue vs most,

57That we, our largest bountie may extend

58Where Nature doth with merit challenge. Gonerill,

59Our eldest borne, speake first.

60Gon. Sir, I loue you more then word can weild y^e matter,

61Deerer then eye-sight, space, and libertie,

62Beyond what can be valewed, rich or rare,

63No lesse then life, with grace, health, beauty, honor:

64As much as Childe ere lou'd, or Father found.

65A loue that makes breath poore, and speech vnable,

66Beyond all manner of so much I loue you.

67Cor. What shall Cordelia speake? Loue, and be silent.

68Lear. Of all these bounds euen from this Line, to this,

69With shadowie Forrests, and with Champains rich'd

70With plenteous Riuers, and wide-skirted Meades

71We make thee Lady. To thine and Albanies issues

72Be this perpetuall. What sayes our second Daughter?

73Our deerest Regan, wife of Cornwall?

74Reg. I am made of that selfe-mettle as my Sister,

75And prize me at her worth. In my true heart,

76I finde she names my very deede of loue:

77Onely she comes too short, that I professe

78My selfe an enemy to all other ioyes,

79Which the most precious square of sense professes,

80And finde I am alone felicitate

81In your deere Highnesse loue.

82Cor. Then poore Cordelia,

83And yet not so, since I am sure my loue's

84More ponderous then my tongue.

85Lear. To thee, and thine hereditarie euer,

86Remaine this ample third of our faire Kingdome,

87No lesse in space, validitie, and pleasure

88Then that conferr'd on Gonerill. Now our Ioy,

89Although our last and least; to whose yong loue,

90The Vines of France, and Milke of Burgundie,

91Striue to be interest. What can you say, to draw

92A third, more opilent then your Sisters? speake.

93Cor. Nothing my Lord.

94Lear. Nothing?

95Cor. Nothing.

96Lear. Nothing will come of nothing, speake againe.

97Cor. Vnhappie that I am, I cannot heaue

98My heart into my mouth: I loue your Maiesty

99According to my bond, no more nor lesse.

100Lear. How, how Cordelia? mend your speech a little,

101Least you may marre your Fortunes.

102Cor. Good my Lord,

103You haue begot me, bred me, lou'd me.

104I returne those duties backe as are right fit,

105Obey you, Loue you, and most Honour you.

106Why haue my Sisters Husbands, if they say

107They loue you all? Happily when I shall wed,

108That Lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry

109Halfe my loue with him, halfe my Care, and Dutie,

110Sure I shall neuer marry like my Sisters.

111Lear. But goes thy heart with this?

112Cor. I my good Lord.

113Lear. So young, and so vntender?

114Cor. So young my Lord, and true.

115Lear. Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dowre:

116For by the sacred radience of the Sunne,

117The miseries of Heccat and the night:

118By all the operation of the Orbes,

119From whom we do exist, and cease to be,

120Heere I disclaime all my Paternall care,

121Propinquity and property of blood,

122And as a stranger to my heart and me,

123Hold thee from this for euer. The barbarous Scythian,

124Or he that makes his generation messes

125To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosome

126Be as well neighbour'd, pittied, and releeu'd,

127As thou my sometime Daughter.

128Kent. Good my Liege.

129Lear. Peace Kent,

130Come not betweene the Dragon and his wrath,

131I lou'd her most, and thought to set my rest

132On her kind nursery. Hence and avoid my sight:

133So be my graue my peace, as here I giue

134Her Fathers heart from her ; call France, who stirres?

135Call Burgundy, Cornwall, and Albanie,

136With my two Daughters Dowres, digest the third,

137Let pride, which she cals plainnesse, marry her:

138I doe inuest you ioyntly with my power,

139Preheminence, and all the large effects

140That troope with Maiesty. Our selfe by Monthly course,

141With reseruation of an hundred Knights,

142By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode

143Make with you by due turne, onely we shall retaine

144The name, and all th'addition to a King: the Sway,

145Reuennew, Execution of the rest,

146Beloued Sonnes be yours, which to confirme,

147This Coronet part betweene you.

148Kent. Royall Lear,

149Whom I haue euer honor'd as my King,

150Lou'd as my Father, as my Master follow'd,

151As my great Patron thought on in my praiers.

152Le. The bow is bent & drawne, make from the shaft.

153Kent. Let it fall rather, though the forke inuade

154The region of my heart, be Kent vnmannerly,

155When Lear is mad, what wouldest thou do old man?

156Think'st thou that dutie shall haue dread to speake,

157When power to flattery bowes?

158To plainnesse honour's bound,

159When Maiesty falls to folly, reserue thy state,

160And in thy best consideration checke

161This hideous rashnesse, answere my life, my iudgement:

162Thy yongest Daughter do's not loue thee least,

163Nor are those empty hearted, whose low sounds

164Reuerbe no hollownesse.

165Lear. Kent, on thy life no more.

166Kent. My life I neuer held but as pawne

167To wage against thine enemies, nere feare to loose it,

168Thy safety being motiue.

169Lear. Out of my sight.

170Kent. See better Lear, and let me still remaine

171The true blanke of thine eie.

172Kear. Now by Apollo,

173Lent. Now by Apollo, King

174Thou swear.st thy Gods in vaine.

175Lear. O Vassall! Miscreant.

176Alb. Cor. Deare Sir forbeare.

177Kent. Kill thy Physition, and thy fee bestow

178Vpon the foule disease, reuoke thy guift,

179Or whil'st I can vent clamour from my throate,

180Ile tell thee thou dost euill.

181Lea. Heare me recreant, on thine allegeance heare me;

182That thou hast sought to make vs breake our vowes,

183Which we durst neuer yet; and with strain'd pride,

184To come betwixt our sentences, and our power,

185Which, nor our nature, nor our place can beare;

186Our potencie made good, take thy reward.

187Fiue dayes we do allot thee for prouision,

188To shield thee from disasters of the world,

189And on the sixt to turne thy hated backe

190Vpon our kingdome; if on the tenth day following,

191Thy banisht trunke be found in our Dominions,

192The moment is thy death, away. By Iupiter,

193This shall not be reuok'd,

194Kent. Fare thee well King, sith thus thou wilt appeare,

195Freedome liues hence, and banishment is here;

196The Gods to their deere shelter take thee Maid,

197That iustly think'st, and hast most rightly said:

198And your large speeches, may your deeds approue,

199That good effects may spring from words of loue:

200Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adew,

201Hee'l shape his old course, in a Country new. Exit.

204Cor. Heere's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord.

205Lear. My Lord of Bugundie,

206We first addresse toward you, who with this King

207Hath riuald for our Daughter; what in the least

208Will you require in present Dower with her,

209Or cease your quest of Loue?

210Bur. Most Royall Maiesty,

211I craue no more then hath your Highnesse offer'd,

212Nor will you tender lesse?

213Lear. Right Noble Burgundy,

214When she was deare to vs, we did hold her so,

215But now her price is fallen: Sir, there she stands,

216If ought within that little seeming substance,

217Or all of it with our displeasure piec'd,

218And nothing more may fitly like your Grace,

219Shee's there, and she is yours.

220Bur. I know no answer.

221Lear. Will you with those infirmities she owes,

222Vnfriended, new adopted to our hate,

223Dow'rd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,

224Take her or, leaue her.

225Bur. Pardon me Royall Sir,

226Election makes not vp in such conditions.

227Le. Then leaue her sir, for by the powre that made me,

228I tell you all her wealth. For you great King,

229I would not from your loue make such a stray,

230To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you

231T'auert your liking a more worthier way,

232Then on a wretch whom Nature is asham'd

233Almost t'acknowledge hers.

234Fra. This is most strange,

235That she whom euen but now, was your obiect,

236The argument of your praise, balme of your age,

237The best, the deerest, sh}ould in this trice of time

238Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle

239So many folds of fauour: sure her offence

240Must be of such vnnaturall degree,

241That monsters it: Or your fore-voucht affection

242Fall into taint, which to beleeue of her

243Must be a faith that reason without miracle

244Should neuer plant in me.

245Cor. I yet beseech your Maiesty.

246If for I want that glib and oylie Art,

247To speake and purpose not, since what I will intend,

248Ile do't before I speake, that you make knowne

249It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulenesse,

250No vnchaste action or dishonoured step

251That hath depriu'd me of your Grace and fauour,

252But euen for want of that, for which I am richer,

253A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue,

254That I am glad I haue not, though not to haue it,

255Hath lost me in your liking.

256Lear. Better thou had'st '

257Not beene borne, then not t haue pleas'd me better.

258Fra. Is it but this ? A tardinesse in nature,

259Which often leaues the history vnspoke

260That it intends to do: my Lord of Burgundy,

261What say you to the Lady? Loue's not loue

262When it is mingled with regards, that stands

263Aloofe from th'intire point, will you haue her?

264She is herselfe a Dowrie.

265Bur. Royall King,

266Giue but that portion which your selfe propos'd,

267And here I take Cordelia by the hand,

268Dutchesse of Burgundie.

269Lear. Nothing, I haue sworne, I am firme.

270Bur. I am sorry then you haue so lost a Father,

271That you must loose a husband.

272Cor. Peace be with Burgundie,

273Since that respect and Fortunes are his loue,

274I shall not be his wife.

275Fra. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poore,

276Most choise forsaken, and most lou'd despis'd,

277Thee and thy vertues here I seize vpon,

278Be it lawfull I take vp what's cast away.

279Gods, Gods! 'Tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect

280My Loue should kindle to enflam'd respect.

281Thy dowrelesse Daughter King, throwne to my chance,

282Is Queene of vs, of ours, and our faire France:

283Not all the Dukes of watrish Burgundy,

284Can buy this vnpriz'd precious Maid of me.

285Bid them farewellCordelia, though vnkinde,

286Thou loosest here a better where to finde.

287Lear. Thou hast her France, let her be thine, for we

288Haue no such Daughter, nor shall euer see

289That face of hers againe, therfore be gone,

290Without our Grace, our Loue, our Benizon:

291Come Noble Burgundie. Flourish. Exeunt.

292Fra. Bid farwell to your Sisters.

293Cor. The Iewels of our Father, with wash'd eies

294Cordelia leaues you, I know you what you are,

295And like a Sister am most loth to call

296Your faults as they are named. Loue well our Father:

297To your professed bosomes I commit him,

298But yet alas, stood I within his Grace,

299I would prefer him to a better place,

300So farewell to you both.

301Regn. Prescribe not vs our dutie.

302Gon. Let your study

303Be to content your Lord, who hath receiu'd you

304At Fortunes almes, you haue obedience scanted,

305And well are worth the want that you haue wanted.

306Cor. Time shall vnfold what plighted cunning hides,

307Who couers faults, at last with shame derides:

308Well may you prosper.

309Fra. Come my faire Cordelia. Exit France and Cor.

310Gon. Sister, it is not little I haue to say,

311Of what most neerely appertaines to vs both,

312I thinke our Father will hence to night. (with vs.

313Reg. That's most certaine, and with you: next moneth

314Gon. You see how full of changes his age is, the ob-

315seruation we haue made of it hath beene little; he alwaies

316lou'd our Sister most, and with what poore iudgement he

317hath now cast her off, appeares too grossely.

318Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath euer but

319slenderly knowne himselfe.

320Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath bin but

321rash, then must we looke from his age, to receiue not a-

322lone the imperfections of long ingraffed condition, but

323therewithall the vnruly way-wardnesse, that infirme and

324cholericke yeares bring with them.

325Reg. Such vnconstant starts are we like to haue from

326him, as this of Kents banishment.

327Gon. There is further complement of leaue-taking be-

328tweene France and him, pray you let vs sit together, if our

329Father carry authority with such disposition as he beares,

330this last surrender of his will but offend vs.

331Reg. We shall further thinke of it.

332Gon. We must do something, and i'th'heate. Exeunt.

335Bast. Thou Nature art my Goddesse, to thy Law

336My seruices are bound, wherefore should I

337Stand in the plague of custome, and permit

338The curiosity of Nations, to depriue me?

339For that I am some twelue, or fourteene Moonshines

340Lag of a Brother? Why Bastard? Wherefore base?

341When my Dimensions are as well compact,

342My minde as generous, and my shape as true

343As honest Madams issue? Why brand they vs

344With Base? With basenes Barstadie? Base, Base?

345Who in the lustie stealth of Nature, take

346More composition, and fierce qualitie,

347Then doth within a dull stale tyred bed

348Goe to th'creating a whole tribe of Fops

349Got 'tweene a sleepe, and wake ? Well then,

350Legitimate Edgar, I must haue your land,

351Our Fathers loue, is to the Bastard Edmond,

352As to th'legitimate: fine word: Legitimate.

353Well, my Legittimate, if this Letter speed,

354And my inuention thriue, Edmond the base

355Shall to'th'Legitimate: I grow, I prosper:

356Now Gods, stand vp for Bastards.

358Glo. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choller parted?

359And the King gone to night? Prescrib'd his powre,

360Confin'd to exhibition? All this done

361Vpon the gad? Edmond, how now? What newes?

362Bast. So please your Lordship, none.

363Glou. Why so earnestly seeke you to put vp y^t Letter?

364Bast. I know no newes, my Lord.

365Glou. What Paper were you reading?

366Bast. Nothing my Lord.

367Glou. No? what needed then that terrible dispatch of

368it into your Pocket ? The quality of nothing, hath not

369such neede to hide it selfe. Let's see: come, if it bee no-

370thing, I shall not neede Spectacles.

371Bast. I beseech you Sir, pardon mee; it is a Letter

372from my Brother, that I haue not all ore-read; and for so

373much as I haue perus'd, I finde it not fit for your ore-loo-

374king.

375Glou. Giue me the Letter, Sir.

376Bast. I shall offend, either to detaine, or giue it:

377The Contents, as in part I vnderstand them,

378Are too blame.

379Glou. Let's see, let's see.

380Bast. I hope for my Brothers iustification, hee wrote

381this but as an essay, or taste of my Vertue.

382Glou. reads.

390Hum? Conspiracy? Sleepe till I wake him, you should

391enioy halfe his Reuennew: my Sonne Edgar, had hee a

392hand to write this? A heart and braine to breede it in?

393When came you to this? Who brought it?

394Bast. It was not brought mee, my Lord; there's the

395cunning of it. I found it throwne in at the Casement of

396my Closset.

397Glou. You know the character to be your Brothers?

398Bast. If the matter were good my Lord, I durst swear

399it were his: but in respect of that, I would faine thinke it

400were not.

401Glou. It is his.

402Bast. It is his hand, my Lord: but I hope his heart is

403not in the Contents.

404Glo. Has he neuer before sounded you in this busines?

405Bast. Neuer my Lord. But I haue heard him oft main-

406taine it to be fit, that Sonnes at perfect age, and Fathers

407declin'd, the Father should bee as Ward to the Son, and

408the Sonne manage his Reuennew.

409Glou. O Villain, villain: his very opinion in the Let-

410ter. Abhorred Villaine, vnnaturall, detested, brutish

411Villaine; worse then brutish: Go sirrah, seeke him: Ile

412apprehend him. Abhominable Villaine, where is he?

413Bast . I do not well know my L. If it shall please you to

414suspend your indignation against my Brother, til you can

415deriue from him better testimony of his intent, you shold

416run a certaine course: where, if you violently proceed a-

417gainst him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great

418gap in your owne Honor, and shake in peeces, the heart of

419his obedience. I dare pawne downe my life for him, that

420he hath writ this to feele my affection to your Honor, &

421to no other pretence of danger.

422Glou. Thinke you so?

423Bast. If your Honor iudge it meete, I will place you

424where you shall heare vs conferre of this, and by an Auri-

425cular assurance haue your satisfaction, and that without

426any further delay, then this very Euening.

427Glou. He cannot bee such a Monster. Edmond seeke

428him out: winde me into him, I pray you: frame the Bu-

429sinesse after your owne wisedome. I would vnstate my

430selfe, to be in a due resolution.

431Bast. I will seeke him Sir, presently: conuey the bu-

432sinesse as I shall find meanes, and acquaint you withall.

433Glou. These late Eclipses in the Sun and Moone por-

434tend no good to vs: though the wisedome of Nature can

435reason it thus, and thus, yet Nature finds it selfe scourg'd

436by the sequent effects. Loue cooles, friendship falls off,

437Brothers diuide. In Cities, mutinies; in Countries, dis-

438cord; in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crack'd, 'twixt

439Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes vnder the

440prediction; there's Son against Father, the King fals from

441byas of Nature, there's Father against Childe. We haue

442seene the best of our time. Machinations, hollownesse,

443treacherie, and all ruinous disorders follow vs disquietly

444to our Graues. Find out this Villain, Edmond, it shall lose

445thee nothing, do it carefully: and the Noble & true-har-

446ted Kent banish'd; his offence, honesty. 'Tis strange. Exit

447Bast. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that

448when we are sicke in fortune,often the surfets of our own

449behauiour, we make guilty of our disasters, the Sun, the

450Moone, and Starres, as if we were villaines on necessitie,

451Fooles by heauenly compulsion, Knaues, Theeues, and

452Treachers by Sphericall predominance. Drunkards,Ly-

453ars,and Adulterers by an inforc'd obedience of Planatary

454influence; and all that we are euill in, by a diuine thru-

455sting on. An admirable euasion of Whore-master-man,

456to lay his Goatish disposition on the charge of a Starre,

457My father compounded with my mother vnder the Dra-

458gons taile, and my Natiuity was vnder Vrsa Maior, so

459that it followes, I am rough and Leacherous. I should

460haue bin that I am, had the maidenlest Starre in the Fir-

461mament twinkled on my bastardizing.

463Pat: he comes like the Catastrophe of the old Comedie:

464my Cue is villanous Melancholly, with a sighe like Tom

465o'Bedlam. ---O these Eclipses do portend these diui-

466sions. Fa, Sol, La, Me.

467Edg. How now Brother Edmond, what serious con-

468templation are you in?

469Bast. I am thinking Brother of a prediction I read this

470other day, what should follow these Eclipses.

471Edg. Do you busie your selfe with that?

472Bast. I promise you, the effects he writes of, succeede

473vnhappily.

474When saw you my Father last ?

475Edg. The night gone by.

476Bast. Spake you with him ??

477Edg. I, two houres together.

478Bast. Parted you in good termes ? Found you no dis-

479pleasure in him, by word, nor countenance?

480Edg. None at all,

481Bast. Bethink your selfe wherein you may haue offen-

482ded him: and at my entreaty forbeare his presence, vntill

483some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure,

484which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mis-

485chiefe of your person, it would scarsely alay.

486Edg. Some Villaine hath done me wrong.

487Edm. That's my feare, I pray you haue a continent

488forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower: and as

489I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will

490fitly bring you to heare my Lord speake: pray ye goe,

491there's my key: if you do stirre abroad, goe arm'd.

492Edg. Arm'd, Brother?

493Edm. Brother, I aduise you to the best, I am no honest

494man, if ther be any good meaning toward you: I haue told

495you what I haue seene, and heard: But faintly. Nothing

496like the image, and horror of it, pray you away.

497Edg. Shall I heare from you anon? Exit.

498Edm. I do serue you in this businesse:

499A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble,

500Whose nature is so farre from doing harmes,

501That he suspects none: on whose foolish honestie

502My practises ride easie: I see the businesse.

503Let me, if not by birth, haue lands by wit,

504All with me's meete, that I can fashion fit. Exit.

507Gon. Did my Father strike my Gentleman for chi-

508ding of his Foole?

509Ste. I Madam.

510Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me, euery howre

511He flashes into one grosse crime, or other,

512That sets vs all at ods: Ile not endure it;

513His Knights grow riotous,and himselfe vpbraides vs

514On euery trifle. When he returnes from hunting,

515I will not speake with him, say I am sicke,

516If you come slacke of former seruices,

517You shall do well, the fault of it Ile answer.

518Ste. He's comming Madam, I heare him.

519Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,

520You and your Fellowes: I'de haue it come to question;

521If he distaste it, let him to my Sister,

522Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,

523Remember what I haue said.

524Ste. Well Madam.

525Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among

526you: what growes of it no matter, aduise your fellowes

527so, Ile write straight to my Sister to hold my course; pre-

528pare for dinner. Exeunt.

531Kent. If but as will I other accents borrow,

532That can my speech defuse, my good intent

533May carry through it selfe to that full issue

534For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent,

535If thou canst serue where thou dost stand condemn'd,

536So may it come, thy Master whom thou lou'st,

537Shall find thee full of labours.

539Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, go get it rea-

540dy: how now, what art thou?

541Kent. A man Sir.

542Lear. What dost thou professe? What would'st thou

543with vs?

544Kent. I do professe to be no lesse then I seeme; to serue

545him truely that will put me in trust, to loue him that is

546honest, to conuerse with him that is wise and saies little, to

547feare iudgement, to fight when I cannot choose, and to

548eate no fish.

549Lear. What art thou?

550Kent. A very honest hearted Fellow, and as poore as

551the King.

552Lear. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect,as hee's for a

553King, thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou?

554Kent. Seruice.

555Lear. Who wouldst thou serue?

556Kent. You.

557Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?

558Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance,

559which I would faine call Master.

560Lear. What's that?

561Kent. Authority.

562Lear. What seruices canst thou do?

563Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a

564curious tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message

565bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qual-

566lified in, and the best of me, is Dilligence.

567Lear. How old art thou?

568Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing,

569nor so old to dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on

570my backe forty eight.

571Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no

572worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner

573ho, dinner, where's my knaue? my Foole? Go you and call

574my Foole hither. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter?

576Ste. So please you---- Exit.

577Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clot-

578pole backe: wher's my Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's

579asleepe, how now? Where's that Mungrell?

580Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well.

581Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I

582call'd him?

583Knigh. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he

584would not.

585Lear. He would not ?

586Knight. My Lord, I know not what the matter is,

587but to my iudgement your Highnesse is not entertain'd

588with that Ceremonious affection as you were wont,

589theres a great abatement of kindnesse appeares as well in

590the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also, and

591your Daughter.

592Lear. Ha? Saist thou so?

593Knigh. I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee

594mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent, when I thinke

595your Highnesse wrong'd.

596Lear. Thou but remembrest me of mine owne Con-

597ception, I haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late,

598which I haue rather blamed as mine owne iealous curio-

599sitie, then as a very pretence and purpose of vnkindnesse;

600I will looke further intoo't: but where's my Foole? I

601haue not seene him this two daies.

602Knight. Since my young Ladies going into France

603Sir, the Foole hath much pined away.

604Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it well, goe you

605and tell my Daughter, I would speake with her. Goe you

606call hither my Foole; Oh you Sir, you, come you hither

607Sir, who am I Sir?

609Ste. My Ladies Father.

610Lear. My Ladies Father? my Lords knaue, you whor-

611son dog, you slaue, you curre.

612Ste. I am none of these my Lord,

613I beseech your pardon.

614Lear. Do you bandy lookes with me, you Rascall?

615Ste. Ile not be strucken my Lord.

616Kent. Nor tript neither, you base Foot-ball plaier.

617Lear. I thanke thee fellow.

618Thou seru'st me, and Ile loue thee.

619Kent. Come sir, arise, away, Ile teach you differences:

620away, away, if you will measure your lubbers length a-

621gaine, tarry, but away, goe too, haue you wisedome, so.

622Lear. Now my friendly knaue I thanke thee, there's

623earnest of thy seruice.

625Foole. Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcombe.

626Lear. How now my pretty knaue, how dost thou?

627Foole. Sirrah, you were best take my Coxcombe.

628Lear. Why my Boy?

629Foole. Why? for taking ones part that's out of fauour,

630nay, & thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch

631colde shortly, there take my Coxcombe; why this fellow

632ha's banish'd two on's Daughters, and did the third a

633blessing against his will, if thou follow him, thou must

634needs weare my Coxcombe. How now Nunckle? would

635I had two Coxcombes and two Daughters.

636Lear. Why my Boy?

637Fool. If I gaue them all my liuing, I'ld keepe my Cox-

638combes my selfe, there's mine, beg another of thy

639Daughters.

640Lear. Take heed Sirrah, the whip.

641Foole. Truth's a dog must to kennell, hee must bee

642whipt out, when the Lady Brach may stand by'th'fire

643and stinke.

644Lear. A pestilent gall to me.

645Foole. Sirha, Ile teach thee a speech.

646Lear. Do.

647Foole. Marke it Nuncle;

648Haue more then thou showest,

649Speake lesse then thou knowest,

650Lend lesse then thou owest,

651Ride more then thou goest,

652Learne more then thou trowest,

653Set lesse then thou throwest;

654Leaue thy drinke and thy whore,

655And keepe in a dore,

656And thou shalt haue more,

657Then two tens to a score.

658Kent. This is nothing Foole.

659Foole. Then 'tis like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer,

660you gaue me nothing for't, can you make no vse of no-

661thing Nuncle ?

662Lear. Why no Boy,

663Nothing can be made out of nothing.

664Foole. Prythee tell him, so much the rent of his land

665comes to, he will not beleeue a Foole.

666Lear. A bitter Foole.

667Foole. Do'st thou know the difference my Boy, be-

668tweene a bitter Foole, and a sweet one.

669Lear. No Lad, reach me.

670Foole. Nunckle, giue me an egge, and Ile giue thee

671two Crownes.

672Lear. What two Crownes shall they be?

673Foole. Why after I haue cut the egge i'th'middle and

674eate vp the meate, the two Crownes of the egge : when

675thou clouest thy Crownes i'th'middle, and gau'st away

676both parts, thou boar'st thine Asse on thy backe o're the

677durt, thou had'st little wit in thy bald crowne, when thou

678gau'st thy golden one away ; if I speake like my selfe in

679this, let him be whipt that first findes it so.

680Fooles had nere lesse grace in a yeere,

681For wisemen are growne foppish,

682And know not how their wits to weare,

683Their manners are so apish.

684Le. When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah?

685Foole. I haue vsed it Nunckle, ere since thou mad'st

686thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gau'st them

687the rod, and put'st downe thine owne breeches, then they

688For sodaine ioy did weepe,

689And I for sorrow sung,

690That such a King should play bo-peepe,

691And goe the Foole among.

692Pry'thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaster that can teach

693thy Foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie.

694Lear. And you lie sirrah, wee'l haue you whipt.

695Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are,

696they'l haue me whipt for speaking true: thou'lt haue me

697whipt for lying, and sometimes I am whipt for holding

698my peace. I had rather be any kind o'thing then a foole,

699and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou hast pared thy

700wit o'both sides, and left nothing i'th'middle; heere

701comes one o'the parings.

703Lear. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet

704on? You are too much of late i'th'frowne.

705Foole. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no

706need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O with-

707out a figure, I am better then thou art now, I am a Foole,

708thou art nothing. Yes forsooth I will hold my tongue, so

709your face bids me, though you say nothing.

710Mum, mum, he that keepes nor crust, not crum,

711Weary of all, shall want some. That's a sheal'd Pescod.

712Gon. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole,

713But other of your insolent retinue

714Do hourely Carpe and is Quarrell, breaking forth

715In ranke, and (not to be endur'd) riots Sir.

716I had thought by making this well knowne vnto you,

717To haue found a safe redresse, but now grow fearefull

718By what your selfe too late haue spoke and done,

719That you protect this course, and put it on

720By your allowance, which if you should, the fault

721Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleepe,

722Which in the tender of a wholesome weale,

723Might in their working do you that offence,

724Which else were shame, that then necessitie

725Will call discreet proceeding.

726Foole. For you know Nunckle, the Hedge-Sparrow

727fed the Cuckoo so long, that it's had it head bit off by it

728young, so out went the Candle, and we were left dark-

729ling.

730Lear. Are you our Daughter?

731Gon. I would you would make vse of your good wise- (dome

732(Whereof I know you are fraught), and put away

733These dispositions, which of late transport you

734From what you rightly are.

735Foole. May not an Asse know, when the Cart drawes

736the Horse ?

737Whoop Iugge I loue thee.

738Lear. Do's any heere know me ?

739This is not Lear:

740Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eies?

741Either his Notion weakens, his Discernings

742Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so?

743Who is it that can tell me who I am?

744Foole. Lears shadow.

745Lear. Your name, faire Gentlewoman?

746Gon. This admiration Sir, is much o'th'sauour

747Of other your new prankes. I do beseech you

748To vnderstand my purposes aright:

749As you are Old, and Reuerend, should be Wise.

750Heere do you keepe a hundred Knights and Squires,

751Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd, and bold,

752That this our Court infected with their manners,

753Shewes like a riotous Inne; Epicurisme and Lust

754Makes it more like a Tauerne, or a Brothell,

755Then a grac'd Pallace. The shame it selfe doth speake

756For instant remedy. Be then desir'd

757By her, that else will take the thing she begges,

758A little to disquantity your Traine,

759And the remainders that shall still depend,

760To be such men as may besort your Age,

761Which know themselues, and you.

762Lear. Darknesse, and Diuels.

763Saddle my horses: call my Traine together.

764Degenerate Bastard, Ile not trouble thee;

765Yet haue I left a daughter.

766Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rable,

767make Seruants of their Betters.

769Lear. Woe, that too late repents:

770Is it your will, speake Sir? Prepare my Horses.

771Ingratitude! thou Marble-hearted Fiend,

772More hideous when thou shew'st thee in a Child,

773Then the Sea-monster.

774Alb. Pray Sir be patient.

775Lear. Detested Kite, thou lyest.

776My Traine are men of choice, and rarest parts,

777That all particulars of dutie know,

778And in the most exact regard, support

779The worships of their name. O most small fault,

780How vgly did'st thou in Cordelia shew?

781Which like an Engine, wrencht my frame of Nature

782From the fixt place: drew from my heart all loue,

783And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!

784Beate at this gate that let thy Folly in,

785And thy deere Iudgement out. Go, go, my people.

786Alb. My Lord, I am guiltlesse, as I am ignorant

787Of what hath moued you.

788Lear. It may be so, my Lord.

789Heare Nature, heare deere Goddesse, heare:

790Suspend thy purpose, if thou did'st intend

791To make this Creature fruitfull:

792Into her Wombe conuey stirrility,

793Drie vp in her the Organs of increase,

794And from her derogate body, neuer spring

795A Babe to honor her. If she must teeme,

796Create her childe of Spleene, that it may liue

797And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her.

798Let it stampe wrinkles in her brow of youth,

799With cadent Teares fret Channels in her cheekes,

800Turne all her Mothers paines, and benefits

801To laughter, and contempt: That she may feele,

802How sharper then a Serpents tooth it is,

803To haue a thanklesse Childe. Away, away. Exit.

804Alb. Now Gods that we adore,

805Whereof comes this?

806Gon. Neuer afflict your selfe to know more of it:

807But let his disposition haue that scope

808As dotage giues it.

810Lear. What fiftie of my Followers at a clap?

811Within a fortnight?

812Alb. What's the matter, Sir?

813Lear. Ile tell thee:

814Life and death, I am asham'd

815That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus,

816That these hot teares, which breake from me perforce

817Should make thee worth them.

818Blastes and Fogges vpon thee:

819Th'vntented woundings of a Fathers curse

820Pierce euerie sense about thee. Old fond eyes,

821Beweepe this cause againe, Ile plucke ye out,

822And cast you with the waters that you loose

823To temper Clay. Ha? Let it be so.

824I haue another daughter,

825Who I am sure is kinde and comfortable:

826When she shall heare this of thee, with her nailes

827Shee'l flea thy Woluish visage. Thou shalt finde,

828That Ile resume the shape which thou dost thinke

829I haue cast off for euer. Exit

830Gon. Do you marke that?

831Alb. I cannot be so partiall Gonerill,

832To the great loue I beare you.

833Gon. Pray you content. What Oswald, hoa?

834You Sir, more Knaue then Foole, after your Master.

835Foole. Nunkle Lear, Nunkle Lear,

836Tarry, take the Foole with thee:

837A Fox, when one has caught her,

838And such a Daughter,

839Should sure to the Slaughter,

840If my Cap would buy a Halter,

841So the Foole followes after. Exit

842Gon. This man hath had good Counsell,

843A hundred Knights?

844'Tis politike, and safe to let him keepe

845At point a hundred Knights: yes, that on euerie dreame,

846Each buz, each fancie, each complaint, dislike,

847He may enguard his dotage with their powres,

848And hold our liues in mercy. Oswald, I say.

849Alb. Well, you may feare too farre.

850Gon. Safer then trust too farre;

851Let me still take away the harmes I feare,

852Not feare still to be taken. I know his heart,

853What he hath vtter'd I haue writ my Sister:

854If she sustaine him, and his hundred Knights

855When I haue shew'd th'vnfitnesse.

857How now Oswald?

858What haue you writ that Letter to my Sister?

859Stew. I Madam.

860Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse,

861Informe her full of my particular feare,

862And thereto adde such reasons of your owne,

863As may compact it more. Get you gone,

864And hasten your returne; no, no, my Lord,

865This milky gentlenesse, and course of yours

866Though I condemne not, yet vnder pardon

867Your are much more at task for want of wisedome,

868Then prai'sd for harmefull mildnesse.

869Alb. How farre your eies may pierce I cannot tell;

870Striuing to better, oft we marre what's well.

871Gon. Nay then----

872Alb. Well, well, th'euent. Exeunt

875Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these Letters;

876acquaint my Daughter no further with any thing you

877know, then comes from her demand out of the Letter,

878if your Dilligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore

879you.

880Kent. I will not sleepe my Lord, till I haue deliuered

881your Letter. Exit.

882Foole. If a mans braines were in's heeles, wert not in

883danger of kybes?

884Lear. I Boy.

885Foole. Then I prythee be merry, thy wit shall not go

886slip-shod.

887Lear. Ha,ha,ha.

888Fool. Shalt see thy other Daughter will vse thee kind-

889ly, for though she's as like this, as a Crabbe's like an

890Apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

891Lear. What can'st tell Boy?

892Foole. She will taste as like this as, a Crabbe do's to a

893Crab: thou canst tell why ones nose stands i'th'middle

894on's face?

895Lear. No.

896Foole. Why to keepe ones eyes of either side's nose,

897that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.

898Lear. I did her wrong.

899Foole. Can'st tell how an Oyster makes his shell?

900Lear. No.

901Foole. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snaile ha's

902a house.

903Lear. Why?

904Foole. Why to put's head in, not to giue it away to his

905daughters, and leaue his hornes without a case.

906Lear. I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father? Be

907my Horsses ready?

908Foole. Thy Asses are gone about 'em; the reason why

909the seuen Starres are no mo then seuen, is a pretty reason.

910Lear. Because they are not eight.

911Foole. Yes indeed, thou would'st make a good Foole.

912Lear. To tak't againe perforce; Monster Ingratitude!

913Foole. If thou wert my Foole Nunckle, Il'd haue thee

914beaten for being old before thy time.

915Lear. How's that?

916Foole. Thou shouldst not haue bin old, till thou hadst

917bin wise.

918Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad sweet Heauen:

919keepe me in temper, I would not be mad. How now are

920the Horses ready?

921Gent. Ready my Lord.

922Lear. Come Boy.

923Fool. She that's a Maid now, & laughs at my departure,

924Shall not be a Maid long, vnlesse things be cut shorter.

928Bast. Saue thee Curan.

929Cur. And your Sir, I haue bin

930With your Father, and giuen him notice

931That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Duchesse

932Will be here with him this night.

933Bast. How comes that?

934Cur. Nay I know not, you haue heard of the newes a-

935broad, I meane the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but

936ear-kissing arguments.

937Bast. Not I: pray you what are they?

938Cur. Haue you heard of no likely Warres toward,

939'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany?

940Bast. Not a word.

941Cur. You may do then in time,

942Fare you well Sir. Exit.

943Bast. The Duke be here to night? The better best,

944This weaues it selfe perforce into my businesse,

945My Father hath set guard to take my Brother,

946And I haue one thing of a queazie question

947Which I must act, Briefenesse, and Fortune worke.

949Brother, a word, discend; Brother I say,

950My Father watches: O Sir, fly this place,

951Intelligence is giuen where you are hid;

952You haue now the good aduantage of the night,

953Haue you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornewall?

954Hee's comming hither, now i'th'night, i'th'haste,

955And Regan with him, haue you nothing said

956Vpon his partie 'gainst the Duke of Albany?

957Aduise your selfe.

958Edg. I am sure on't, not a word.

959Bast. I heare my Father comming, pardon me:

960In cunning, I must draw my Sword vpon you:

961Draw, seeme to defend your selfe,

962Now quit you well.

963Yeeld, come before my Father, light hoa, here,

964Fly Brother, Torches, Torches, so farewell.

966Some blood drawne on me, would beget opinion

967Of my more fierce endeauour. I haue seene drunkards

968Do more then this in sport; Father, Father,

969Stop, stop, no helpe?

971Glo. Now Edmund, where's the villaine?

972Bast. Here stood he in the dark, his sharpe Sword out,

973Mumbling of wicked charmes, coniuring the Moone

974To stand auspicious Mistris.

975Glo. But where is he?

976Bast. Looke Sir, I bleed.

977Glo. Where is the villaine, Edmund?

978Bast. Fled this way Sir, when by no meanes he could.

979Glo. Pursue him, ho: go after. By no meanes, what?

980Bast. Perswade me to the murther of your Lordship,

981But that I told him the reuenging Gods,

982'Gainst Paricides did all the thunder bend,

983Spoke with how manifold, and strong a Bond

984The Child was bound to'th'Father; Sir in fine,

985Seeing how lothly opposite I stood

986To his vnnaturall purpose, in fell motion

987With his prepared Sword, he charges home

988My vnprouided body, latch'd mine arme;

989And when he saw my best alarum'd spirits

990Bold in the quarrels right, rouz'd to th'encounter,

991Or whether gasted by the noyse I made,

992Full sodainely he fled.

993Glost. Let him fly farre:

994Not in this Land shall he remaine vncaught

995And found; dispatch, the Noble Duke my Master,

996My worthy Arch and Patron comes to night,

997By his authoritie I will proclaime it,

998That he which finds him shall deserue our thankes,

999Bringing the murderous Coward to the stake:

1000He that conceales him death.

1001Bast. When I disswaded him from his intent,

1002And found him pight to doe it, with curst speech

1003I threaten'd to discouer him; he replied,

1004Thou vnpossessing Bastard, dost thou thinke,

1005If I would stand against thee, would the reposall

1006Of any trust, vertue, or worth in thee

1007Make thy words faith'd? No, what should I denie,

1008(As this I would, though thou didst produce

1009My very Character) I'ld turne it all

1010To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise :

1011And thou must make a dullard of the world,

1012If they not thought the profits of my death

1013Were very pregnant and potentiall spirits

1014To make thee seeke it. Tucket within.

1015Glo. O strange and fastned Villaine,

1016Would he deny his Letter, said he?

1017Harke, the Dukes Trumpets, I know not wher he comes.;

1018All Ports Ile barre, the villaine shall not scape,

1019The Duke must grant me that: besides, his picture

1020I will send farre and neere, that all the kingdome

1021May haue due note of him, and of my land,

1022(Loyall and naturall Boy) Ile worke the meanes

1023To make thee capable.

1025Corn. How now my Noble friend, since I came hither

1026(Which I can call but now,) I haue heard strangenesse.

1027Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short

1028Which can pursue th'offender; how dost my Lord?

1029Glo. O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd.

1030Reg. What, did my Fathers Godsonne seeke your life?

1031He whom my Father nam'd, your Edgar?

1032Glo. O Lady, Lady, shame would haue it hid.

1033Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous Knights

1034That tended vpon my Father?

1035Glo. I know not Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad.

1036Bast. Yes Madam, he was of that consort.

1037Reg. No maruaile then, though he were ill affected,

1038'Tis they haue put him on the old mans death,

1039To haue th'expence and wast of his Reuenues :

1040I haue this present euening from my Sister

1041Beene well inform'd of them, and with such cautions,

1042That if they come to soiourne at my house,

1043Ile not be there.

1044Cor. Nor I, assure thee Regan;

1045Edmund, I heare that you haue shewne yout Father

1046A Child-like Office.

1047Bast. It was my duty Sir.

1048Glo. He did bewray his practise, and receiu'd

1049This hurt you see, striuing to apprehend him.

1050Cor. Is he pursued?

1051Glo. I my good Lord.

1052Cor. If he be taken, he shall neuer more

1053Be fear'd of doing harme, make your owne purpose,

1054How in my strength you please: for you Edmund,

1055Whose vertue and obedience doth this instant

1056So much commend it selfe, you shall be ours,

1057Nature's of such deepe trust, we shall much need:

1058You we first seize on.

1059Bast. I shall serue you Sir truely, how euer else.

1060Glo. For him I thanke your Grace.

1061Cor. You know not why we came to visit you?

1062Reg. Thus out of season, thredding darke ey'd night,

1063Occasions Noble Gloster of some prize,

1064Wherein we must haue vse of your aduise.

1065Our Father he hath writ, so hath our Sister,

1066Of differences, which I best though it fit

1067To answere from our home: the seuerall Messengers

1068From hence attend dispatch, our good old Friend,

1069Lay comforts to your bosome, and bestow

1070Your needfull counsaile to our businesses,

1071Which craues the instant vse.

1072Glo. I serue you Madam,

1073Your Graces are right welcome. Exeunt.Flourish.

1076Stew. Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?

1077Kent. I.

1078Stew. Where may we set our horses?

1079Kent. I'th'myre.

1080Stew. Prythee, if thou lou'st me, tell me.

1081Kent. I loue thee not.

1082Ste. Why then I care not for thee.

1083Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make

1084thee care for me.

1085Ste. Why do'st thou vse me thus? I know thee not.

1086Kent. Fellow I know thee.

1087Ste. What do'st thou know me for?

1088Kent. A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a

1089base, proud, shallow, beggerly, three-suited-hundred

1090pound, filthy woosted-stocking knaue, a Lilly-liuered,

1091action-taking, whoreson glasse-gazing super-seruiceable

1092finicall Rogue, one Trunke-inheriting slaue, one that

1093would'st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art no-

1094thing but the composition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward,

1095Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch,

1096one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou

1097deny'st the least sillable of thy addition.

1098Stew. Why, what a monstrous Fellow art thou, thus

1099to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor

1100knowes thee?

1101Kent. What a brazen-fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny

1102thou knowest me ? Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy

1103heeles, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,

1104for though it be night, yet the Moone shines, Ile make a

1105sop oth'Moonshine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly

1106Barber-monger, draw.

1107Stew. Away, I haue nothing to do with thee.

1108Kent. Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters a-

1109gainst the King, and take Vanitie the puppets part, a-

1110gainst the Royaltie of her Father: draw you Rogue, or

1111Ile so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascall, come

1112your waies.

1113Ste. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe.

1114Kent. Strike you slaue: stand rogue, stand you neat

1115slaue, strike.

1116Stew. Helpe hoa, murther, murther.

1118Bast. How now, what's the matter? Part.

1119Kent. With you goodman Boy, if you please, come,

1120Ile flesh ye, come on yong Master.

1121Glo. Weapons? Armes? what's the matter here?

1122Cor. Keepe peace vpon your liues, he dies that strikes

1123againe, what is the matter?

1124Reg. The Messengers from our Sister, and the King?

1125Cor. What is your difference, speake?

1126Stew. I am scarce in breath my Lord.

1127Kent. No Maruell, you haue so bestir'd your valour,

1128you cowardly Rascall, nature disclaimes in thee: a Taylor

1129made thee.

1130Cor. Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man?

1131Kent. A Taylor Sir, a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could

1132not haue made him so ill, though they had bin but two

1133yeares oth'trade.

1134Cor. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?

1135Ste. This ancient Ruffian Sir, whose life I haue spar'd

1136at sute of his gray-beard.

1137Kent. Thou whoreson Zed, thou vnnecessary letter:

1138my Lord, if you will giue me leaue, I will tread this vn-

1139boulted villaine into morter, and daube the wall of a

1140Iakes with him. Spare my gray-beard, you wagtaile?

1141Cor. Peace sirrah,

1142You beastly knaue, know you no reuerence?

1143Kent. Yes Sir, but anger hath a priuiledge.

1144Cor. Why art thou angrie?

1145Kent. That such a slaue as this should weare a Sword,

1146Who weares no honesty: such smiling rogues as these,

1147Like Rats oft bite the holy cords a twaine,

1148Which are t'intrince, t'vnloose: smooth euery passion

1149That in the natures of their Lords rebell,

1150Being oile to fire, snow to the colder moodes,

1151Reuenge, affirme, and turne their Halcion beakes

1152With euery gall, and varry of their Masters,

1153Knowing naught (like dogges) but following:

1154A plague vpon your Epilepticke visage,

1155Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Foole?

1156Goose, if I had you vpon Sarum Plaine,

1157I'ld driue ye cackling home to Camelot.

1158Corn. What art thou mad old Fellow?

1159Glost. How fell you out, say that?

1160Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,

1161Then I, and such a knaue.

1162Corn. Why do'st thou call him Knaue?

1163What is his fault?

1164Kent. His countenance likes me not.

1165Cor. No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers.

1166Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plaine,

1167I haue seene better faces in my time,

1168Then stands on any shoulder that I see

1169Before me, at this instant.

1170Corn. This is some Fellow,

1171Who hauing beene prais'd for bluntnesse, doth affect

1172A saucy roughnes, and constraines the garb

1173Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter he,

1174An honest mind and plaine, he must speake truth,

1175And they will take it so, if not, hee's plaine.

1176These kind of Knaues I know, which in this plainnesse

1177Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,

1178Then twenty silly-ducking obseruants,

1179That stretch their duties nicely.

1180Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,

1181Vnder th'allowance of your great aspect,

1182Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire

1183On flicking Phoebus front.

1184Corn. What mean'st by this?

1185Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discom-

1186mend so much; I know Sir, I am no flatterer, he that be-

1187guild you in a plaine accent, was a plaine Knaue, which

1188for my part I will not be, though I should win your

1189displeasure to entreat me too't.

1190Corn. What was th'offence you gaue him?

1191Ste. I neuer gaue him any:

1192It pleas'd the King his Master very late

1193To strike at me vpon his misconstruction,

1194When he compact, and flattering his displeasure

1195Tript me behind: being downe, insulted, rail'd,

1196And put vpon him such a deale of Man,

1197That worthied him, got praises of the King,

1198For him attempting, who was selfe-subdued,

1199And in the fleshment of this dead exploit,

1200Drew on me here againe.

1201Kent. None of these Rogues, and Cowards

1202But Aiax is there Foole.

1203Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks?

1204You stubborne ancient Knaue, you reuerent Bragart,

1205Wee'l teach you.

1206Kent. Sir, I am too old to learne:

1207Call not your Stocks for me, I serue the King.

1208On whose imployment I was sent to you,

1209You shall doe small respects, show too bold malice

1210Against the Grace, and Person of my Master,

1211Stocking his Messenger.

1212Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;

1213As I haue life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noone.

1214Reg. Till noone? till night my Lord, and all night too.

1215Kent. Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog,

1216You should not vse me so.

1217Reg. Sir, being his Knaue, I will. Stocks brought out.

1218Cor. This is a Fellow of the selfe same colour,

1219Our Sister speakes of. Come, bring away the Stocks.

1220Glo. Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so,

1221The King his Master, needs must take it ill

1222That he so slightly valued in his Messenger,

1223Should haue him thus restrained.

1224Cor. Ile answere that.

1225Reg. My Sister may recieue it much more worsse,

1226To haue her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted.

1227Corn. Come my Lord, away. Exit.

1228Glo. I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Duke pleasure,

1229Whose disposition all the world well knowes

1230Will not be rub'd nor stopt, Ile entreat for thee .

1231Kent. Pray do not Sir, I haue watch'd and trauail'd hard,

1232Some time I shall sleepe out, the rest Ile whistle:

1233A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles:

1234Giue you good morrow.

1235Glo. The Duke's too blame in this,

1236'Twill be ill taken. Exit.

1237Kent. Good King, that must approue the common saw,

1238Thou out of Heauens benediction com'st

1239To the warme Sun.

1240Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe,

1241That by thy comfortable Beames I may

1242Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles

1243But miserie. I know 'tis from Cordelia,

1244Who hath most fortunately beene inform'd

1245Of my obscured course. And shall finde time

1246From this enormous State, seeking to giue

1247Losses their remedies. All weary and o're-watch'd,

1248Take vantage heauie eyes, not to behold

1249This shamefnll lodging. Fortune goodnight,

1250Smile once more, turne thy wheele.

1252Edg. I heard my selfe proclaim'd,

1253And by the happy hollow of a Tree,

1254Escap'd the hunt. No Port is free, no place

1255That guard, and most vnusall vigilance

1256Do's not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape

1257I will preserue myselfe: and am bethought

1258To take the basest, and most poorest shape

1259That euer penury in contempt of man,

1260Brought neere to beast; my face Ile grime with filth,

1261Blanket my loines, elfe all my haires in knots,

1262And with presented nakednesse out-face

1263The Windes, and persecutions of the skie;

1264The Country giues me proofe, and president

1265Of Bedlam beggers, who with roaring voices,

1266Strike in their num'd and mortified Armes.

1267Pins, Wodden-prickes, Nayles, Sprigs of Rosemarie:

1268And with this horrible obiect, from low Farmes,

1269Poore pelting Villages, Sheeps-Coates, and Milles,

1270Sometimes with Lunaticke bans, sometime with Praiers

1271Inforce their charitie: poore Turlygod poore Tom,

1272That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. Exit.

1274Lea. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,

1275And not send backe my Messengers.

1276Gent. As I learn'd,

1277The night before, there was no purpose in them

1278Of this remoue.

1279Kent. Haile to thee Noble Master.

1280Lear. Ha? Mak'st thou this shame ahy pastime ?

1281Kent. No my Lord.

1282Foole. Hah, ha, he weares Cruell Garters Horses are

1283tide by the heads, Dogges and Beares by'th'necke,

1284Monkies by'th'loynes, and Men by'th'legs: when a man

1285ouerlustie at legs, then he weares wodden nether-stocks.

1286Lear. What's he,

1287That hath so much thy place mistooke

1288To set thee heere?

1289Kent. It is both he and she,

1290Your Son, and Daughter.

1291Lear. No.

1292Kent. Yes.

1293Lear. No I say.

1294Kent. I say yea.

1295Lear. By Iupiter I sweare no.

1296Kent. By Iuno, I sweare I.

1297Lear. They durst not do't:

1298They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse then murther,

1299To do vpon respect such violent outrage:

1300Resolue me with all modest haste, which way

1301Thou might'st deserue, or they impose this vsage,

1302Comming from vs.

1303Kent. My Lord, when at their home

1304I did commend your Highnesse Letters to them,

1305Ere I was risen from the place, that shewed

1306My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Poste,

1307Stew'd in his haste, halfe breathlesse, painting forth

1308From Gonerill his Mistris, salutations;

1309Deliuer'd Letters spight of intermission,

1310Which presently they read; on those contents

1311They summon'd vp their meiney, straight tooke Horse,

1312Commanded me to follow, and attend

1313The leisure of their answer, gaue me cold lookes,

1314And meeting heere the other Messenger,

1315Whose welcome I perceiu'd had poison'd mine,

1316Being the very fellow which of late

1317Displaid so sawcily against your Highnesse,

1318Hauing more man then wit about me, drew;

1319He rais'd the house, with loud and coward cries,

1320Your Sonne and Daughter found this trespasse worth

1321The shame which heere it suffers.

1322Foole. Winters not gon yet, if the wil'd Geese fly that (way,

1323Fathers that weare rags, do make their Children blind,

1324But Fathers that beare bags, shall see their children kind.

1325Fortune that arrant whore, nere turns the key to th'poore.

1326But for all this thou shalt haue as many Dolors for thy

1327Daughters, as thou canst tell in a yeare.

1328Lear. Oh how this Mother swels vp toward my heart!

1329Historica passio, downe thou climing sorrow,

1330Thy Elements below where is this Daughter?

1331Kent. Wirh the Earle Sir, here within.

1332Lear. Follow me not, stay here. Exit.

1333Gen. Made you no more offence,

1334But what you speake of?

1335Kent. None:

1336How chance the the King comes with so small a number?

1337Foole. And thou hadst beene set i'th'Stockes for that

1338question, thoud'st well deseru'd it.

1339Kent. Why Foole?

1340Foole. Wee'l set thee to schoole to an Ant, to teach

1341thee ther's no labouring i'th'winter. All that follow their

1342noses, are led by their eyes, but blinde men, and there's

1343not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stink-

1344ing; let go thy hold, when a great wheele runs downe a

1345hill, least it breake thy necke with following. But the

1346great one that goes vpward, let him draw thee after:

1347when a wiseman giues thee better counsell giue me mine

1348againe, I would hause none but knaues follow it, since a

1349Foole giues it.

1350That Sir, which serues and seekes for gaine,

1351And followes but for forme;

1352Will packe, when it begins to raine,

1353And leaue thee in the storme,

1354But I will tarry, the Foole will stay,

1355And let the wiseman flie:

1356The knaue turnes Foole that runnes away,

1357The Foole noknaue perdie.

1359Kent. Where learn'd you this Foole ?

1360Foole. Not i'th'Stocks Foole.

1361Lear. Deny to speake with me ?

1362They are sicke, they are weary,

1363They haue trauail'd all the night? meere fetches,

1364The images of reuolt and flying off.

1365Fetch me a better answer.

1366Glo. My deere Lord,

1367You know the fiery quality of the Duke,

1368How vnremoueable and fixt he is

1369In his owne course.

1370Lear. Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confusion :

1371Fiery? What quality? Why Gloster, Gloster,

1372I'ld speake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife.

1373Glo. Well my good Lord, I haue inform'd them so.

1374Lear. Inform'd them? Do'st thou vnderstand me man.

1375Glo. I my good Lord.

1376Lear. The King would speake with Cornwall,

1377The deere Father

1378Would with his Daughter speake, commands, tends, ser-(uice,

1379Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood:

1380Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that----

1381No, but not yet, may be he is not well,

1382Infirmity doth still neglect all office,

1383Whereto our health is bound, we are not our selues,

1384When Nature being opprest, commands the mind

1385To suffer with the body; Ile forbeare,

1386And am fallen out with my more headier will,

1387To take the indispos'd and sickly fit,

1388For the sound man. Death on my state: wherefore

1389Should he sit heere? This act perswades me,

1390That this remotion of the Duke and her

1391Is practise only. Giue me my Seruant forth;

1392Goe tell the Duke, and's wife, Il'd speake with them:

1393Now, presently: bid them come forth and heare me,

1394Or at their Chamber doore Ile beate the Drum,

1395Till it crie sleepe to death.

1396Glo. I would haue all well betwixt you. Exit.

1397Lear. Oh me my heart! My rising heart! But downe.

1398Foole. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cockney did to the

1399Eeles, when she put 'em i'th'Paste aliue, she knapt 'em

1400o'th'coxcombs with a sticke, and cryed downe wantons,

1401downe; 'twas her Brother, that in pure kindnesse to his

1402Horse buttered his Hay.

1404Lear. Good morrow to you both.

1405Corn. Haile to your Grace. Kent here set at liberty.

1406Reg. I am glad to see your Highnesse.

1407Lear. Regan, I thinke your are. I know what reason

1408I haue to thinke so, if thou should'st not be glad,

1409I would diuorce me from thy Mother Tombe,

1410Sepulchring an Adultresse. O are you free?

1411Some other time for that. Beloued Regan,

1412Thy Sisters naught: oh Regan, she hath tied

1413Sharpe-tooth'd vnkindnesse, like a vulture heere,

1414I can scarce speake to thee, thou'lt not beleeue

1415With how deprau'd a quality. Oh Regan.

1416Reg. I pray you Sir, take patience, I haue hope

1417You lesse know how to value her desert,

1418Then she to scant her dutie.

1419Lear. Say? How is that?

1420Reg. I cannot thinke my Sister in the least

1421Would faile her Obligation. If Sir perchance

1422She haue restrained the Riots of your Followres,

1423'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,

1424As cleeres her from all blame.

1425Lear. My curses on her.

1426Reg. O Sir, you are old,

1427Nature in you stands on the very Verge

1428Of his confine: you should be rul'd, and led

1429By some discretion, that discernes your state

1430Better then you your selfe: therefore I pray you,

1431That to our Sister, you do make returne,

1432Say you haue wrong'd her.

1433Lear. Aske her forgiuenesse?

1434Do you but marke how this becomes the house?

1435Deere daughter, I confesse that I am old;

1436Age is vnnecessary: on my knees I begge,

1437That you'l vouchsafe me Rayment, Bed, and Food.

1438Reg. Good Sir, no more: these are vnsightly trickes:

1439Returne you to my Sister.

1440Lear. Neuer Regan:

1441She hath abated me of halfe my Traine;

1442Look'd blacke vpon me, strooke me with her Tongue

1443Most Serpent-like, vpon the very Heart.

1444All the stor'd Vengeances of Heauen, fall

1445On her ingratefull top: strike her yong bones

1446You taking Ayres, with Lamenesse.

1447Corn. Fye sir, fie.

1448Le. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames

1449Into her scornfull eyes: Infect her Beauty,

1450You Fen-suck'd Fogges, drawne by the powrfull Sunne,

1451To fall, and blister.

1452Reg. O the blest Gods!

1453So will you wish on me, when the rash moode is on.

1454Lear. No Regan, thou shalt neuer haue my curse:

1455Thy tender-hefted -->Nature shall not giue

1456Thee o're to harshnesse: Her eyes are fierce, but thine

1457Do comfort, and not burne. 'Tis not in thee

1458To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my Traine,

1459To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,

1460And in conclusion, to oppose the bolt

1461Against my comming in. Thou better know'st

1462The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood,

1463Effects of Curtesie, dues of Gratitude:

1464Thy halfe o'th'Kingdome hast thou not forgot,

1465Wherein I thee endow'd.

1466Reg. Good Sir, to'th'purpose. Tucket within.

1467Lear. Who put my man i'th'Stockes?

1469Corn. What Trumpet's that?

1470Reg. I know't, my Sisters: this approues her Letter,

1471That she would soone be heere. Is your Lady come?

1472Lear. This is a Slaue, whose easie borrowed pride

1473Dwels in the sickly grace of her he followes.

1474Out Varlet, from my sight.

1475Corn. What meanes your Grace?

1477Lear. Who stockt my Seruant? Regan, I haue good hope

1478Thou did'st not know on't.

1479Who comes here? O Heauens!

1480If you do loue old men; if your sweet sway

1481Allow Obedience; if you your selues are old,

1482Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part.

1483Art not asham'd to looke vpon this Beard?

1484O Regan, will you take her by the hand?

1485Gon. Why not by'th'hand Sir? How haue I offended?

1486All's not offence that indiscretion findes,

1487And dotage termes so.

1488Lear. O sides, you are too tough!

1489Will you yet hold?

1490How came my man i'th'Stockes?

1491Corn. I set him there, Sir: but his owne Disorders

1492Deseru'd much lesse aduancement.

1493Lear. You? Did you?

1494Reg. I pray you Father being weake, seeme so.

1495If till the expiration of your Moneth

1496You will returne and soiourne with my Sister,

1497Dismissing halfe your traine, come then to me,

1498I am now from home, and out of that prouision

1499Which shall be needfull for your entertainement.

1500Lear. Returne to her? and fifty men dismiss'd?

1501No, rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse

1502To wage against the enmity oth'ayre,

1503To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle,

1504Necessities sharpe pinch. Returne with her?

1505Why the hot-bloodiedFrance, that dowerlesse tooke

1506Our yongest borne, I could as well be brought

1507To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pension beg,

1508To keepe base life a foote; returne with her?

1509Perswade me rather to be slaue and sumpter

1510To this detested groome.

1511Gon. At your choice Sir.

1512Lear. I prythee Daughter do not make me mad,

1513I will not trouble thee my Child; farewell:

1514Wee'l no more meete, no more see one another.

1515But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my Daughter,

1516Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,

1517Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a Byle,

1518A plague sore, or imbossed Carbuncle

1519In my corrupted blood. But Ile not chide thee,

1520Let shame come when it will, I do not call it,

1521I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoote,

1522Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging Ioue,

1523Mend when thou can'st, be better at thy leisure,

1524I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,

1525I and my hundred Knights.

1526Reg. Not altogether so,

1527I look'd not for you yet, nor am prouided

1528For your fit welcome, giue eare Sir to my Sister,

1529For those that mingle reason with your passion,

1530Must be content to thinke you old, and so,

1531But she knowes what she doe's.

1532Lear. Is this well spoken?

1533Reg. I dare auouch it Sir, what fifty Followers?

1534Is it not well? What should you need of more?

1535Yea, or so many? Sith that both charge and danger,

1536Speake 'gainst so great a number? How in one house

1537Should many people, vnder two commands

1538Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible.

1539Gon. Why might not you my Lord, receiue attendance

1540From those that she cals Seruants, or from mine?

1541Reg. Why not my Lord?

1542If then they chanc'd to slacke ye,

1543We could comptroll them; if you will come to me,

1544(For now I spie a danger) I entreate you

1545To bring but fiue and twentie ,to no more

1546Will I giue place or notice.

1547Lear. I gaue you all.

1548Reg. And in good time you gaue it.

1549Lear. Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries,

1550But kept a reseruation to be followed

1551With such a number? What , must I come to you

1552With fiue and twenty? Regan, said you so?

1553Reg. And speak't againe my Lord, no more with me.

1554Lea. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor'd

1555When others are more wicked, not being the worst

1556Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go with thee,

1557Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty,

1558And thou art twice her Loue.

1559Gon. Heare me my Lord;

1560What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue?

1561To follow in a house, where twice so many

1562Haue a command to tend you?

1563Reg. What need one?

1564Lear. O reason not the need: our basest Beggers

1565Are in the poorest thing superfluous.

1566Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs:

1567Mans life is cheape as Beastes. Thou art a Lady;

1568If onely to go warme were gorgeous,

1569Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,

1570Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need:

1571You Heauens, giue me that patience, patience I need,

1572You see me heere (you Gods) a poore old man,

1573As full of griefe as age, wretched in both,

1574If it be you that stirres these Daughters hearts

1575Against their Father, foole me not so much,

1576To beare it tamely: touch me with Noble anger,

1577And let not womens weapons, water drops,

1578Staine my mans cheekes. No you vnnaturall Hags,

1579I will haue such reuenges on you both,

1580That all the world shall---I will do such things,

1581What they are yet, I know not, but they shal be

1582The terrors of the earth? you thinke Ile weepe,

1583No, Ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping.

1585But this heart shal break into a hundred thousand flawes

1586Or ere Ile weepe; O Foole, I shall go mad. Exeunt.

1587Corn. Let vs withdraw, 'twill be a Storme.

1588Reg. This house is little, the old man an'ds people,

1589Cannot be well bestow'd.