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

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

Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder! Enter EDMUND, CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and Servants.

Edm. How now? What's the matter? Part. Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; come, I'll flesh you; come on, young master. Glo. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here? Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; He dies, that strikes again: What is the matter? Reg. The messengers from our sister and the king. Corn. What is your difference? speak. Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord. Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valor. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.

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

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

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? Stew. This ancient ruflian, sir, whose life I have spared,

At suit of his grey beard,

Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the walls of a jakes! with him.-Spare my grey beard, you wagtail!

Corn. Peace, sirrah!

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

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

Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain

Harbor more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Than twenty silly ducking observants,
That stretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,
Under the allowance of your grand aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phoebus' front-
Corn.

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

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

Kent.
None of these rogues, and cowards,
But Ajax is their fool.6
Corn.

Fetch forth the stocks, ho! You stubborn, ancient knave, you reverend braggart, We'll teach you

Kent.

Sir, I am too old to learn: Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king; On whose employment I was sent to you; You shall do small respect, show too bold malice Against the grace and person of my master, Stocking his messenger.

Corn.

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

too.

passion

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

Say that.

How fell you out?

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

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

Kent. His countenance likes me not.

Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or hers.

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain:

I have seen better faces in my time,

Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.

Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill,
That he's so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.

Corn. I'll answer that. Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse, To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, For following her affairs.-Put in his legs.[KENT is put in the Stocks. Come, my good lord; away. [Exeunt REGAN and CORNWALL. Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure,

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

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

travell'd hard;

Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!

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

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

i.e. Ajax is a fool to them.

SCENE III.-A Part of the Heath.
Enter EDGAR.

Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd:
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,
Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,

Does not attend my taking. While I may 'scape,
I will preserve myself; and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape,
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins; elfs all my hair in knots;
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks,9 nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with
prayers,

Enforce their charity.-Poor Turlygood! poorTom!
That's something yet;-Edgar I nothing am.

[Exit.

murder,

To do upon respect such violent outrage:
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Coming from us.

Kent.
My lord, when at their home
I did commend your highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste. half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress, salutations;
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took

horse;

Commanded me to follow, and attend

The leisure of their answer: gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine,
(Being the very fellow that of late

Display'd so saucily against your highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, drew:
He raised the house with loud and coward cries:
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.

Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of elves and fairies in the night.

1 Curses.

⚫ Skewers.

A quibble on crewel, worsted.

The old word for stockings. People, train, or retinue.

How chance the king comes with so small a train?
Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for
that question, thou hadst well deserved it.
Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no laboring in the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.

That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack, when it begins to rain,

And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry, the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly,

The knave turns fool, that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.

Kent. Where learned you this, fool?
Fool. Not i' the stocks, fool.

Re-enter LEAR, with GLOSter.

Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick?

they are weary?

They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches; The images of revolt and flying off!

Fetch me a better answer.

Glo.

My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremoveable and fix'd he is
In his own course.

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
Fiery what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.
Glo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.
Lear. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me,

man?

Glo. Ay, my good lord.

Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father

Would with his daughter speak, commands her service:

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

Fiery the ficry 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 ourselves,
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
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
[Looking on KENT.
Should he sit here? This act persuades me,
That this remotion of the duke and her

ls practices only. Give me my servant forth:
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,

A quibble between dolors and dollars.
The disease called the mother.
Removing from their own house.

• Artifice.

Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry--Sleep to death.

Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you. [Exit. Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart!-but, down.

Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels, when she put them i' the paste alive; she rapp'd 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, Down, wantons, down: 'Twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his horse, butter'd his hay. Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and Servants. Lear. Good-morrow to you both. Corn. Hail to your grace! [KENT is set at liberty. Reg. I am glad to see your highness. Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what

reason

I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepúlchring an adultress.-Ö, are you free?

Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O, Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here.-
[Points to his Heart.
I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe,
Of how depraved a quality.-O, Regan!
Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience; I have hope
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.

Lear.
Say, how is that?
Reg. I cannot think, my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance,
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.
Lear. My curses on her!
Reg.
O, sir, you are old;
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be ruled, and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself: Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;
Say, you have wrong'd her, sir.

Lear. Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark how this becomes the house:9 Dear daughter, I confess that I am old; Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg, [Kneeling. That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food. Reg. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks:

Return you to my sister. Lear.

Never, Regan:
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like upon the very heart:-
All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!

Corn.

Fye, fye, fye!

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding

flames

So will you wish on me, when the rash mood's on. Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my

curse;

Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn: "Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in: thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;

Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.
Reg.

Good sir, to the purpose.
[Trumpets within.
Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks!
Corn.
What trumpet's that?
Enter Steward.
Reg. I know't, my sister's: this approves her
letter,

That she would soon be here.-Is your lady come?
The order of families.
Contract my allowances.

O, sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold?-How came my man i' the stocks?

Corn. I set him there, sir: but his own disorders Deserv'd much less advancement.

Lear. You! did you? Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me; I am now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment. Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enemy o' the air; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,Necessity's sharp pinch!-Return with her? Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took Our youngest born, I could as well be brought To knee his throne, and, squirc-like, pension beg To keep base life afoot:-Return with her? Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter3 To this detested groom. [Looking on the Steward. Gon. At your choice, sir.

Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad. I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: We'll no more meet, 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 boil, A plague-sore, an emboss'd' carbuncle, In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee; Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure: Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove; I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, I, and my hundred knights.

Reg.

Not altogether so, sir;

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome: Give ear, sir, to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But she knows what she does.
Lear.

?

Is this well spoken, now Reg. I dare avouch it, sir: What, fifty followers! Is it not well? What should you need of more? Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one Yea, or so many! sith that both charge and danger

house

gars

Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm-But, for true need,

You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger!
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall-I will do such things,-
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep:-

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart

Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.
Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak
winds

Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about
There's scarce a bush.

Reg.
O, sir, to wilful men,
The injuries that they themselves procure,
Must be their schoolmasters: Shut up your doors;
He is attended with a desperate train;

And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.
Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild
night:

My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm.
[Exeunt.

SCENE I-A Heath.

A Storm is heard, with Thunder and Lightning. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting. Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather?

quietly.

Kent. I know you; Where's the king?

Gent. Contending with the fretful element: Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change, or cease: tears his

white hair:

Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain.

I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
And from some knowledge and assurance, offer
This office to you.

Gent. I will talk further with you.
Kent.

No, do not.
For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains: If you shall see Cordelia,
(As fear not but you shall,) show her this ring;
And she will tell you who your fellow is
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!

couch,

The lion and the belly-pinched wolf

Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,

And bids what will take all.

Kent. But who is with him? Gent. None but the fool; who labors to out-jest His heart-struck injuries.

Kent.

Sir, I do know you; And dare, upon the warrant of my heart, Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, Although as yet the face of it be cover'd

With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
Who have (as who have not, that their great stars
Thron'd and set high?) servants, who seem no less;
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,
Either in snuils and packings of the dukes;
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings:
But, true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports, and are at point

Whose dugs are drawn by its young.
Snuffs are dislikes, and packings underhand contri-
■ Samples.

vances.

Gent. Give me your hand: Have you no more to say?

Kent. Few words, but to effect, more than all yet; That, when we have found the king, (in which your pain

That way; I'll this,) he that first lights on him, Holla the other. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.-Another Part of the Heath.

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness,
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription; why then, let fall
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand your slave,
A poor infirm, weak, and despised old man :-
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. 0! O! 'tis foul!

the field;

When usurers tell their gold
And bawds and whores do churches build;-
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion.

Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going shall be used with feet.

This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before
his time.
[Exit.

SCENE III-A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter GLOSTER and EDMUND.

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing: When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charged me on pain of their perpetual

The cod-piece that will house,
Before the head has any,

The head and he shall louse ;

So beggars marry many.

The man that makes his toe

What he his heart should make,

Shall of a corn cry woe,

And turn his sleep to wake.

him, nor any way sustain him.

Edm. Most savage, and unnatural!

Glo. Go to; say you nothing: There is division between the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have received a letter this night;-tis dangerous to be spoken;-I have locked the letter in my closet: these injuries the king now bears will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed: we must incline to the king. I will seek

Enter KENT.

talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived: If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me,

Kent. Who's there?

Fool. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece; that's a wise man, and a fool.

Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? things that love

night,

Love not such nights as these: the wrathful skies Gallows the very wanderers of the dark,

And make them keep their caves. Since I was man, Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry The affliction, nor the fear.

Lear. Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That hast within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhipp'd of justice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand; Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue, That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake, That under covert and convenient seeming Hast practised on man's life:-Close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents, and cry These dreadful summoners grace.7-I am a man, More sinn'd against than sinning. Kent.

Alack, bare-headed! Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest; Repose you there: while I to this hard house" (More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd; Which even but now, demanding after you, Denied me to come in) return, and force Their scanted courtesy.

Lear. My wits begin to turn,Come on, my boy: How dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself.-Where is this straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange,

That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel,

Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee.

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit,

With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit;
For the rain it raineth every day.s
Lear. True, my good boy.-Come, bring us to
this hovel. [Exeunt LEAR and KENT.
Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.
-I'll speak a prophecy ere I go:

When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors:
When every case in law is right;
No squire in debt, nor no peor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;

is some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you,
be careful.
Exit.
Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke
Instantly know; and of that letter too:-
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses; no less than all:
The younger rises, when the old doth fall. [Exit.
SCENE IV-A Part of the Heath, with a Hovel.
Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool.

Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord,
enter;
The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
Lear.
Let me alone.
Kent. Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.

[Storm still.

Wilt break my heart? Kent. I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord,

enter.

Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm

Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;

But where the greater malady is tix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear:
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the

The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
mind's free,
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
For lifting food to't!-But I will punish home:-
No, I will weep no more.-In such a night
To shut me out!-Pour on; I will endure:
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!-
Your old kind father, whose trank heart gave all,-
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that:
No more of that.-
Kent.

Good my lord, enter here. Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own

ease;

On things would hurt me more.-But I'll go in:
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
In boy; go first.-[To the Fool.] You houseless
poverty,-
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.—
[Fool goes in.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd, and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these! O, I have talen
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel;
That thou may'st shake the superflux to theni,
And show the heavens more just.
Edg. [Within.] Fathom and half, fathom and
half! Poor Tom!

[The Fool runs out from the Hovel