Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (418 page)
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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KENT But who is with him?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
None but the fool, who labours to outjest
His heart-struck injuries.
His heart-struck injuries.
KENT Sir, I do know you,
And dare upon the warrant of my art
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,
Although as yet the face of it be covered
With mutual cunning, ’twixt Albany and Cornwall;
But true it is. From France there comes a power
Into this scattered kingdom, who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open banner. Now to you:
If on my credit you dare build so far
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The King hath cause to plain.
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from some knowledge and assurance offer
This office to you.
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,
Although as yet the face of it be covered
With mutual cunning, ’twixt Albany and Cornwall;
But true it is. From France there comes a power
Into this scattered kingdom, who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open banner. Now to you:
If on my credit you dare build so far
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The King hath cause to plain.
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from some knowledge and assurance offer
This office to you.
FIRST GENTLEMAN I will talk farther 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!
I will go seek the King.
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!
I will go seek the King.
FIRST GENTLEMAN 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 endeavour I’ll this way, you that—
He that first lights on him holla the other.
In which endeavour I’ll this way, you that—
He that first lights on him holla the other.
Exeunt severally
Sc. 9Storm. Enter King Lear and his Fool
LEAR
Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched the steeples, drowned the
cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head; and thou all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity of the world,
Crack nature’s mould, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man.
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched the steeples, drowned the
cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head; and thou all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity of the world,
Crack nature’s mould, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man.
FOOL O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o’ door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters blessing. Here’s a night pities neither wise man nor fool.
LEAR
Rumble thy bellyful; spit, fire; spout, rain.
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.
I never gave you kingdom, called 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 joined
Your high engendered battle ‘gainst a head
So old and white as this. O, ’tis foul!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.
I never gave you kingdom, called 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 joined
Your high engendered battle ‘gainst a head
So old and white as this. O, ’tis foul!
FOOL He that has a house to put his head in has a good headpiece.
⌈
Sings
⌉
for there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
Sings
⌉
The codpiece 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 have a corn cry woe,
And turn his sleep to wake—
LEAR
No, I will be the pattern of all patience.
⌈
He sits.
⌉
Enter the Earl of Kent disguised
I will say nothing.
KENT Who’s there?
FOOL Marry, here’s grace and a codpiece—that’s a wise man and a fool.
KENT (
to Lear
)
to Lear
)
Alas, sir, sit you here? Things that love night
Love not such nights as these. The wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark
And makes 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 ne’er
Remember to have heard. Man’s nature cannot carry
The affliction nor the force.
Love not such nights as these. The wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark
And makes 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 ne’er
Remember to have heard. Man’s nature cannot carry
The affliction nor the force.
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 undivulgèd crimes
Unwhipped of justice; hide thee, thou bloody hand,
Thou perjured and thou simular man of virtue
That art incestuous; caitiff, in pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practised on man’s life;
Close pent-up guilts, rive your concealed centres
And cry these dreadful summoners grace.
I am a man more sinned against than sinning.
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch
That hast within thee undivulgèd crimes
Unwhipped of justice; hide thee, thou bloody hand,
Thou perjured and thou simular man of virtue
That art incestuous; caitiff, in pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practised on man’s life;
Close pent-up guilts, rive your concealed centres
And cry these dreadful summoners grace.
I am a man more sinned 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 whilst I to this hard house-
More hard than is the stone whereof ’tis raised,
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Denied me to come in—return and force
Their scanted courtesy.
Some friendship will it lend you ‘gainst the tempest.
Repose you there whilst I to this hard house-
More hard than is the stone whereof ’tis raised,
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Denied me to come in—return and force
Their scanted courtesy.
LEAR My wit begins to turn.
(
To Fool
) 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 of my heart
That sorrows yet for thee.
To Fool
) 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 of my heart
That sorrows yet for thee.
FOOL ⌈
sings
⌉
sings
⌉
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.
LEAR
True, my good boy. (
To Kent
) Come, bring us to this hovel.
Exeunt
Sc. 10To Kent
) Come, bring us to this hovel.
Exeunt
Enter the Duke of Gloucester and Edmund the bastard, with lights
GLOUCESTER
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 displeasure neither to speak of him,
Entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.
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 displeasure neither to speak of him,
Entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.
EDMUND Most savage and unnatural!
GLOUCESTER Go to, say you nothing. There’s a division betwixt 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’s part of a power already landed. We must incline to the King. I will seek him and privily relieve him. Go you and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. Though I die for’t—as no less is threatened me—the King my old master must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward. Edmund, pray you be careful.
Exit
Exit
EDMUND
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 do fall.
Exit
Sc. 11Instantly 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 do fall.
Exit
Storm. Enter King Lear, the Earl of Kent disguised, and Lear’s 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.
The tyranny of the open night’s too rough
For nature to endure.
LEAR Let me alone.
KENT
Good my lord, enter here.
LEAR Wilt break my heart?
KENT
I had 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 fixed,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear,
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea
Thou‘dst meet the bear i’th’ mouth. When the mind’s
free,
The body’s delicate. This tempest in my mind
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 sure.
No, I will weep no more.—
In such a night as this! O Regan, Gonoril,
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave you all—
O, that way madness lies. Let me shun that.
No more of that.
Invades us to the skin. So ‘tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fixed,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear,
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea
Thou‘dst meet the bear i’th’ mouth. When the mind’s
free,
The body’s delicate. This tempest in my mind
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 sure.
No, I will weep no more.—
In such a night as this! O Regan, Gonoril,
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave you all—
O, that way madness lies. Let me shun that.
No more of that.
KENT Good my lord, enter.
LEAR
Prithee, go in thyself. Seek thy own ease.
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more; but I’ll go in.
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more; but I’ll go in.
⌈
Exit Fool
⌉
Exit Fool
⌉
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe‘er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless night,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en
Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp,
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
And show the heavens more just.
That bide the pelting of this pitiless night,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en
Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp,
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
And show the heavens more just.
Enter Lear’s Fool
FOOL Come not in here, nuncle; here’s a spirit. Help me, help me!
KENT Give me thy hand. Who’s there?
FOOL A spirit. He says his name’s Poor Tom.
KENT
What art thou that dost grumble there in the straw?
Come forth.
Come forth.
⌈
Enter Edgar as a Bedlam beggar
⌉
EDGAR Away, the foul fiend follows me. Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Go to thy cold bed and warm thee.
LEAR
Hast thou given all to thy two daughters,
And art thou come to this?
And art thou come to this?
EDGAR Who gives anything to Poor Tom, whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through ford and whirlypool, o’er bog and quagmire; that has laid knives under his pillow and halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his potage, made him proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits, Tom’s a-cold! Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking. Do Poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him, now, and there, and there again.
LEAR
What, has his daughters brought him to this pass?
(
To Edgar
) Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give
them all?
(
To Edgar
) Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give
them all?
FOOL Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.
LEAR (
to Edgar
)
to Edgar
)
Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o’er men’s faults fall on thy daughters!
Hang fated o’er men’s faults fall on thy daughters!
KENT He hath no daughters, sir.
LEAR
Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature
To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.
(
To Edgar
) Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment: ’twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.
To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.
(
To Edgar
) Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment: ’twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.
EDGAR Pillicock sat on pillicock’s hill; a lo, lo, lo.
FOOL This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
EDGAR Take heed o’th’ foul fiend; obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man’s sworn spouse: set not thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom’s a-cold.
LEAR What hast thou been?
EDGAR A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress’ heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it. Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly, and in woman out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustlings of silks betray thy poor heart to women. Keep thy foot out of brothel, thy hand out of placket, thy pen from lender’s book, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind. Heigh no nonny. Dolphin, my boy, my boy! Cease, let him trot by.
LEAR Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more but this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here’s three on ’s are sophisticated; thou art the thing itself. Unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come on, be true.
FOOL Prithee, nuncle, be content. This is a naughty night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher’s heart—a small spark, all the rest on ’s body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.
Enter the Duke of Gloucester with a ⌈torch⌉
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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