King Lear (7 page)

EDMUND
    This is the
excellent foppery
¹⁰⁸
of the world, that when

we are sick in fortune — often the
surfeits
¹⁰⁹
of our own

behaviour — we make guilty of our
disasters
¹¹⁰
the sun, the

mo
on
¹¹¹
and stars, as if we were villains on necessity, fools by

heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves and
treachers
¹¹²
by

spherical predominance
¹¹³
, drunkards, liars and adulterers

by an enforced obedience of planetary influence, and all that

we are evil in, by a
divine
thrusting on: an admirable
evasion
¹¹⁵

of
whoremaster
man, to lay his
goatish
¹¹⁶
disposition on the

charge
of a star! My father
compounded
¹¹⁷
with my mother

under
the dragon’s tail
and my nativity was under
Ursa
¹¹⁸

Major, so that it follows I am
rough
¹¹⁹
and lecherous. I should

have been that I am had the
maidenliest
¹²⁰
star in the

firmament
twinkled on my
bastardizing
¹²¹
.

Pat
he comes like the
catastrophe
of the old
comedy
:
my cue
¹²²

is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like
Tom o’Bedlam
¹²³
.—

O, these eclipses do portend these
divisions
!
Fa, sol, la, mi
¹²⁴
.

EDGAR
    How now, brother Edmund, what serious

contemplation are you in?

EDMUND
    I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
this
¹²⁷

other day, what should follow these eclipses.

EDGAR
    Do you busy yourself with that?

EDMUND
    I promise you, the effects he writes of
succeed
¹³⁰

unhappily
¹³¹
. When saw you my father last?

EDGAR
    The night gone by.

EDMUND
    Spake you with him?

EDGAR
    Ay, two hours together.

EDMUND
    Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure

in him by word nor
countenance
¹³⁶
?

EDGAR
    None at all.

EDMUND
    Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended

him, and at my entreaty
forbear
¹³⁹
his presence until some little

time hath
qualified
¹⁴⁰
the heat of his displeasure, which at this

instant so rageth in him that with the
mischief of your
¹⁴¹

person it would scarcely
allay
¹⁴²
.

EDGAR
    Some villain hath done me wrong.

EDMUND
    That’s my fear. I pray you
have a continent
¹⁴⁴

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

say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will
fitly
¹⁴⁶

bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray ye go.

Gives a key

There’s my key: if you do stir
abroad
¹⁴⁸
, go armed.

EDGAR
    Armed, brother?

EDMUND
    Brother, I advise you to the best: I am no honest

man if there be any good
meaning
¹⁵¹
toward you: I have told

you what I have seen and heard, but faintly, nothing like the

image and horror
¹⁵³
of it. Pray you away.

EDGAR
    Shall I hear from you
anon
¹⁵⁴
?

EDMUND
    I do
serve
¹⁵⁵
you in this business.—

A credulous father and a brother noble,

Whose nature is so far from doing harms

That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty

My
practices
¹⁵⁹
ride easy. I see the business.

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by
wit
¹⁶⁰
:

All with me’s
meet
that I can
fashion fit
¹⁶¹
.

GONERIL
    Did my father strike my
gentleman
for
chiding
¹
of his

fool?

OSWALD
    Ay, madam.

GONERIL
    By day and night he wrongs me: every hour

He
flashes
⁵
into one gross crime or other

That sets us all at odds. I’ll not endure it.

His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us

On every trifle. When he returns from hunting

I will not speak with him: say I am sick.

If you
come slack
¹⁰
of former services

You shall do well: the fault of it I’ll
answer
¹¹
.

OSWALD
    He’s coming, madam: I hear him.

GONERIL
    Put on what weary negligence you please,

You and your
fellows
: I’d have it come to
question
¹⁴
:

If he
distaste
¹⁵
it, let him to my sister,

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

Remember what I have said.

OSWALD
    Well, madam.

GONERIL
    And let his knights have colder looks among you:

what grows of it, no matter: advise your fellows so. I’ll write

straight
to
²¹
my sister, to hold my course. Prepare for dinner.

KENT
    If but
as will I
¹
other accents borrow,

That can my speech
defuse
²
, my good intent

May carry through itself to that
full issue
³

For which I
razed my likeness
⁴
. Now, banished Kent,

If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned,

So may it come thy master whom thou lov’st,

Shall find thee full of labours.

LEAR
    Let me not
stay
⁸
a jot for dinner: go get it ready.—

How now, what art thou?

KENT
    A man, sir.

LEAR
    
What dost thou profess
? What
wouldst thou
¹¹
with

us
¹²
?

KENT
    I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him

truly that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to

converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear

judgement
, to fight when I
cannot choose
and
to eat no fish
¹⁶
.

LEAR
    What art thou?

KENT
    A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the

king.

LEAR
    If thou be’st as poor for a subject as he’s for a king,

thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

KENT
    Service.

LEAR
    Who wouldst thou serve?

KENT
    You.

LEAR
    Dost thou know me, fellow?

KENT
    No, sir, but you have that in your countenance

which I would fain call master.

LEAR
    What’s that?

KENT
    Authority.

LEAR
    What services canst thou do?

KENT
    I can
keep honest counsel
, ride, run,
mar a curious
³¹

tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly: that

which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best

of me is diligence.

LEAR
    How old art thou?

KENT
    Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor

so old to dote on her for
anything
³⁷
: I have years on my back

forty-eight.

LEAR
    Follow me, thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no

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

ho, dinner! Where’s my
knave
⁴¹
? My fool? Go you and call my

fool hither.

You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?

OSWALD
    
So
⁴⁴
please you—

LEAR
    What says the fellow there? Call the
clotpoll
⁴⁵
back.—

Where’s my fool? Ho, I think the world’s asleep.—

How now? Where’s that mongrel?

KNIGHT
    He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

LEAR
    Why came not the
slave
⁴⁹
back to me when I called

him?

KNIGHT
    Sir, he answered me in the
roundest
⁵¹
manner, he

would not.

LEAR
    He would not?

KNIGHT
    My lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my

judgement your highness is not
entertained
⁵⁵
with that

ceremonious affection as you were
wont
⁵⁶
: there’s a great

abatement of kindness appears as well in the
general
⁵⁷

dependants as in the duke himself also and your daughter.

LEAR
    Ha? Say’st thou so?

KNIGHT
    I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken,

for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness

wronged.

LEAR
    Thou but
rememb’rest
me of mine own
conception
⁶³
:

I have perceived a most
faint
⁶⁴
neglect of late, which I have

rather blamed as mine own
jealous curiosity
than as a
very
⁶⁵

pretence and purpose of unkindness. I will look further

into’t. But where’s my fool? I have not seen him this two

days.

KNIGHT
    Since my young lady’s going into France, sir, the

fool hath much pined away.

LEAR
    No more of that, I have noted it well.— Go you and

tell my daughter I would speak with her.—

Go you, call hither my fool.—

O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?

OSWALD
    My lady’s father.

LEAR
    ‘My lady’s father’? My lord’s knave: you whoreson

dog, you slave, you
cur
⁷⁷
!

OSWALD
    I am none of these, my lord, I beseech your pardon.

LEAR
    Do you
bandy
⁷⁹
looks with me, you rascal?

Strikes him

OSWALD
    I’ll not be
strucken
⁸⁰
, my lord.

KENT
    Nor tripped neither, you base
football
⁸¹
player.

Trips him

LEAR
    I thank thee, fellow: thou serv’st me and I’ll love

thee.

KENT
    Come, sir, arise, away! I’ll teach you
differences
⁸⁴
:

away, away! If you will
measure your
lubber’s
⁸⁵
length again,

tarry
: but away,
go to
⁸⁶
. Have you wisdom? So.

Pushes Oswald out

LEAR
    Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee.

Gives money

There’s
earnest
⁸⁸
of thy service.

FOOL
    Let me hire him too: here’s my

coxcomb
⁹⁰
.

Offers Kent his cap

LEAR
    How now, my
pretty
⁹¹
knave, how dost thou?

FOOL
    Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

LEAR
    Why, my boy?

FOOL
    Why? For taking one’s part that’s out of favour: nay,

an thou canst not smile as the wind sits
⁹⁵
, thou’lt catch cold

shortly. There, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has

banished two
on’s
⁹⁷
daughters and did the third a blessing

against his will: if thou follow him, thou must
needs
⁹⁸
wear

my coxcomb.— How now,
nuncle
?
Would
⁹⁹
I had two

coxcombs and two daughters.

LEAR
    Why, my boy?

FOOL
    If I gave them all my
living
¹⁰²
, I’d keep my coxcombs

myself. There’s mine: beg another of thy daughters.

LEAR
    Take heed, sirrah: the whip.

FOOL
    Truth’s a dog must to kennel: he must be whipped

out when the Lady
Brach
¹⁰⁶
may stand by th’fire and stink.

LEAR
    A
pestilent gall
¹⁰⁷
to me!

FOOL
    Sirrah, I’ll teach thee a speech.

LEAR
    Do.

FOOL
    
Mark
¹¹⁰
it, nuncle:

Have more than thou showest,

Speak less than thou knowest,

Lend less than thou
owest
¹¹³
,

Ride more than thou
goest
¹¹⁴
,

Learn more than thou
trowest
¹¹⁵
,

Set less than thou throwest
¹¹⁶
;

Leave thy drink and thy whore,

And keep in-a-door,

And thou shalt
have more
¹¹⁹

Than two tens to a
score
¹²⁰
.

KENT
    This is nothing, fool.