William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (528 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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ALBANY
What’s the matter, sir?
LEAR
I’ll tell thee. (
To Goneril
) Life and death! I am ashamed
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus,
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon
thee!
Th’untented woundings of a father’s curse
Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again I’ll pluck ye out
And cast you, with the waters that you loose,
To temper clay. Ha! Let it be so.
I have another daughter
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable.
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She’ll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
That I’ll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever.
Exit
GONERIL
Do you mark that?
ALBANY
I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
To the great love I bear you—
GONERIL
Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho!—
You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master.
FOOL
Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear,
Tarry, take the fool with thee.
A fox when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter.
So, the fool follows after. Exit
GONERIL
This man hath had good counsel—a hundred
knights?
’Tis politic and safe to let him keep
At point a hundred knights, yes, that on every dream,
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their powers
And hold our lives in mercy.—Oswald, I say!
ALBANY
Well, you may fear too far.
GONERIL
Safer than trust too far.
Let me still take away the harms I fear,
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart.
What he hath uttered I have writ my sister.
If she sustain him and his hundred knights
When I have showed th’unfitness—
Enter Oswald the steward
 
How now, Oswald?
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?
OSWALD Ay, madam.
GONERIL
Take you some company, and away to horse.
Inform her full of my particular fear,
And thereto add such reasons of your own
As may compact it more. Get you gone,
And hasten your return.
Exit Oswald
No, no, my lord,
This milky gentleness and course of yours,
Though I condemn not, yet under pardon
You are much more attasked for want of wisdom
Than praised for harmful mildness.
ALBANY
How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.
Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.
GONERIL Nay, then—
ALBANY Well, well, th’event.
Exeunt
 
1.5
Enter King Lear, the Earl of Kent disguised, the First Gentleman, and Lear’s Fool
 
LEAR ⌈
to
the Gentleman, giving him a letter
⌉ Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. ⌈
Exit Gentleman
⌉ ⌈
To Kent, giving him a letter
⌉ Acquaint my daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you.
KENT I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter. Exit
FOOL If a man’s brains were in’s heels, were’t not in danger of kibes?
LEAR Ay, boy.
FOOL Then, I prithee, be merry: thy wit shall not go slipshod.
LEAR Ha, ha, ha!
FOOL Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly, for though she’s as like this as a crab’s like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
LEAR What canst tell, boy?
FOOL She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one’s nose stands i’th’ middle on ’s face?
LEAR No.
FOOL Why, to keep one’s eyes of either side ’s nose, that what a man cannot smell out, a may spy into.
LEAR I did her wrong.
FOOL Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?
LEAR No.
FOOL Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.
LEAR Why?
FOOL Why, to put ’s head in, not to give it away to his daughters and leave his horns without a case.
LEAR
I will forget my nature. So kind a father!
Be my horses ready?
FOOL Thy asses are gone about ’em. The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.
LEAR Because they are not eight.
FOOL Yes, indeed, thou wouldst make a good fool.
LEAR
To take’t again perforce—monster ingratitude!
FOOL If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I’d have thee beaten for being old before thy time.
LEAR How’s that?
FOOL Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.
LEAR
O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!
Keep me in temper. I would not be mad.

Enter the First Gentleman

 
How now, are the horses ready?
⌈FIRST⌉ GENTLEMAN Ready, my lord.
LEAR (
to Fool
) Come, boy.

Exeunt Lear and Gentleman

FOOL
She that’s a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.

Exit

2.1
Enter Edmond the bastard, and Curan
,
severally
EDMOND Save thee, Curan.
 
CURAN And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him this night.
EDMOND How comes that? CURAN Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad?—I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments.
EDMOND Not I. Pray you, what are they?
CURAN Have you heard of no likely wars toward twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
EDMOND Not a word.
CURAN You may do then in time. Fare you well, sir.
Exit
EDMOND
The Duke be here tonight! The better, best.
This weaves itself perforce into my business.

Enter Edgar at a window above

 
My father hath set guard to take my brother,
And I have one thing of a queasy question
Which I must act. Briefness and fortune work!—
Brother, a word, descend. Brother, I say.

Edgar climbs down

 
My father watches. O sir, fly this place.
Intelligence is given where you are hid.
You have now the good advantage of the night.
Have you not spoken ‘gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
He’s coming hither, now, i’th’ night, i‘th’ haste,
And Regan with him. Have you nothing said
Upon his party ’gainst the Duke of Albany?
Advise yourself.
EDGAR
I am sure on’t, not a word.
EDMOND
I hear my father coming. Pardon me.
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you.
Draw. Seem to defend yourself. Now, quit you well.
(
Calling
) Yield, come before my father. Light ho, here!
(
To Edgar
) Fly, brother! (
Calling
) Torches, torches!
(
To Edgar
) So, farewell.
Exit Edgar
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeavour.
He wounds his arm
 
I have seen drunkards
Do more than this in sport. (
Calling
) Father, father!
Stop, stop! Ho, help!
Enter the Duke of Gloucester, and servants with torches
 
GLOUCESTER
Now, Edmond, where’s the villain?
EDMOND
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand ’s auspicious mistress.
GLOUCESTER
But where is he?
EDMOND
Look, sir, I bleed.
GLOUCESTER
Where is the villain, Edmond?
EDMOND
Fled this way, sir, when by no means he could—
GLOUCESTER
Pursue him, ho! Go after.
Exeunt servants
By no means what?
EDMOND
Persuade me to the murder of your lordship,
But that I told him the revenging gods
‘Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend,
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
The child was bound to th’ father. Sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion
With his prepared sword he charges home
My unprovided body, latched mine arm;
And when he saw my best alarumed spirits
Bold in the quarrel’s right, roused to th’encounter,
Or whether ghasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
GLOUCESTER
Let him fly far,
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught,
And found, dispatch. The noble Duke my master,
My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight.
By his authority I will proclaim it
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
He that conceals him, death.
EDMOND
When I dissuaded him from his intent
And found him pitched to do it, with curst speech
I threatened to discover him. He replied,
‘Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal
Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee
Make thy words faithed? No, what I should deny—
As this I would, ay, though thou didst produce
My very character—I’d turn it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice,
And thou must make a dullard of the world
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spirits
To make thee seek it.’
GLOUCESTER
O strange and fastened villain!
Would he deny his letter, said he?
Tucket within
Hark, the Duke’s trumpets. I know not why he comes.
All ports I’ll bar. The villain shall not scape.
The Duke must grant me that; besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him—and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I’ll work the means
To make thee capable.
Enter the Duke of Cornwall, Regan, and attendants
 
CORNWALL
How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither,
Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news.
REGAN
If it be true, all vengeance comes too short
Which can pursue th’offender. How dost, my lord?
GLOUCESTER
O madam, my old heart is cracked, it’s cracked.
REGAN
What, did my father’s godson seek your life?
He whom my father named, your Edgar?
GLOUCESTER
O lady, lady, shame would have it hid!
REGAN
Was he not companion with the riotous knights
That tend upon my father?
GLOUCESTER
I know not, madam. ’Tis too bad, too bad.
EDMOND
Yes, madam, he was of that consort.
REGAN
No marvel, then, though he were ill affected.
‘Tis they have put him on the old man’s death,
To have th’expense and spoil of his revenues.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well informed of them, and with such cautions
That if they come to sojourn at my house
I’ll not be there.
CORNWALL
Nor I, assure thee, Regan. Edmond, I hear that you have shown your father A childlike office.

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