Enter KENT, GLOSTER, and EDMUND. Kent. I thought the king had more affected the duke of Albany, than Cornwall. Glo. It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so weigh'd that curiosity1 in neither can make choice of either's moiety.2 Kent. Is this your son, my lord? Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge; I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it. Kent. I cannot conceive you. Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon she grew round-wombed: and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper. Glo. But I have, sir, a son, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair: there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.-Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ? Edm. No, my lord. Glo. I shall, my liege. We have this hour a constant will to publish ters, (Since now we will divest us, both of rule, Gon. Sir, I Do love you more than words can wield the matter, Glo. My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor: as my honorable friend. Edm. My services to your lordship. As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found. Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you Beyond all manner of so much I love you. better. Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. [Trumpets sound within. 1 Most scrupulous nicety. 2 Part or division. Čor. What shall Cordelia do? love, and be silent. With shadowy forests and with champains3 rich'd, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart Then poor Cordelia! [Aside. And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever, Than that confirm'd on Goneril.-Now, our joy, Although the last, not least; to whose young love The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, Strive to be interess'd: what can you say to draw A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. Cor. Nothing, my lord. Lear. Nothing? Cor. Nothing. Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more nor less. Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech a little, Lest it may mar your fortunes. Lear. But goes this with thy heart? pride, To come betwixt our sentence and our power; (Which nor our nature, nor our place can bear;) Our potency make good, take thy reward. Ay, good my lord. Five days we do allot thee, for provision To shield thee from diseases of the world: And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death: Away! By Jupiter, This shall not be revok'd. Lear. So young, and so untender!" From whom we do exist, and cease to be; Scythian, The barbarous Or he that makes his generation messes Lear. Peace, Kent! Good my liege, Come not between the dragon and his wrath: Call Burgundy.-Cornwall, and Albany, That troop with majesty.-Ourself, by monthly Kent. Fare thee well, king: since thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.- Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. We first address towards you, who with this king Most royal majesty Bur. Lear. Sir, I know no answer. Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me, I tell you all her wealth.-For you, great king, France. That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection Cor. I yet beseech your majesty, (If for I want that glib and oily art, To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, No unchaste action or dishonor'd step, That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favor: But even for want of that, for which I am richer; A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue That I am glad I have not, though not to have it, Hath lost me in your liking. Lear. Better thou Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me better. France. Is it but this? a tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke, That it intends to do?-My lord of Burgundy, What say you to the lady? Love is not love, When it is mingled with respects, that stand' Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry. Bur. Royal Lear, Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, Lear. Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm. Cor. Peace be with Burgundy! Since that respects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife. France. Fairest Cordelia, thou art most rich, being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd! My love should kindle to inflamed respect.- Lear. Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see [Flourish. Exeunt LEAR, BURGUNDY, CORNWALL, Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes I would prefer him to a better place. Gon. Prescribe not us our duties. Let your study Be, to content your lord; who hath receiv'd you At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you have wanted. Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides; Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. Come, my fair Cordelia. [Exeunt FRANCE and CORDELIA. Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say, of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think, our father will hence to-night. Reg. That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. Gon. You see how full of changes his age is: the observation we have made of it hath not been little: he always lov'd our sister most; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly. Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself. Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engrafted condition, but therewithal, the unruly way. wardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them. Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him, as this of Kent's banishment. Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you, let us hit together: If our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us. Reg. We shall further think of it. Gon. We must do something, and i' the heat. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A Hall in the Earl of Gloster's Castle. Enter EDMUND, with a Letter. Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Kent banish'd thus! And France in choler parted! Contined to exhibition! All this done Upon the gad!2 -Edmund! How now? what news! Edm. So please your lordship, none. [Putting up the Letter. Glo. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? Edm. I know no news, my lord. Glo. No? What needed then that terrible despatch of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see: Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter from my brother, that I have not all o'er read; for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your over-looking. Glo. Give me the letter, sir. Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. Glo. Let's see, let's see. fluence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he thrusting on: An admirable evasion of whoremaswrote this but as an essay3 or taste of my virtue. ter man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge Glo. [Reads.] This policy, and reverence of age, of a star! My father compounded with my mother makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps under the dragon's tail; and my nativity was unour fortunes from us, till our oldness cannot relish | der ursa major; so that it follows, I am rough and them. I begin to find an idle and fond1 bondage in lecherous.-Tut, I should have been that I am, had the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not as the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on it heth power, but as it is suffered. Come to me, that my bastardizing. Edgarof this I may speak more. If our father would sleep fill I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother, Edgar.-Humph-Conspiracy!-Sleep till I waked him-you should enjoy ha his revenue. My son Edgar! had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain to breed it in?-When came this to you? Who brought it? Edm. It was not brought me, my lord, there's the cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet. Glo. You know the character to be your brother's? Elm. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would fain think it were not. Glo. It is his. Edm. It is his hand, my lord; but, I hope, his heart is not in the contents. Glo. Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business? Edm. Never, my lord: But I have often heard him maintain it to be fit, that sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. Glo. O villain, villain!-His very opinion in the letter!-Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! worse than brutish!-Go, sirrah, seek him; I'll apprehend him:-Abominable villain!-Where is he? Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother, till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honor, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honor, and to no other pretence of danger. Glo. Think you so? Etm. If your honor judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us conter of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and that without any further delay than this very evening. Glo. These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us: Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects: love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked between son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father: the king falls from bias of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best of our time: Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves!-Find out this villain, Edmund, it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully: -And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his offence, honesty!-Strange! strange! [Exit. Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the world! that when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our own behaviour,) we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers,8 by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary in Enter EDGAR. and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy: My cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o'Bedlam.-O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.9 Edg. How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation are you in? read this other day, what should follow these Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I eclipses. Edg. Do you busy yourself with that? Edm. I promise you, the effects he writes of, succeed unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what. Edg. How long have you been a sectary astronomical! Edm. Come, come: when saw you my father last! Edg. Why, the night gone by. Edm. Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him, by word or countenance? Edg. None at all. Edm. Bethink yourself, wherein you may have offended him: and, at my entreaty, forbear his presence, till some little time hath qualified the heat in him, that with the mischief of your person it of his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth would scarcely allay. Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. tinent forbearance, till the speed of his rage goes Edm. That's my fear. I pray you, have a conslower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak: Pray you, go; there's my key:-If you do stir abroad, go armed. Edg. Armed, brother? armed; I am no honest man, if there be any good Edg. Shall I hear from you anon? Enter GONERIL and Steward. Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? Stew. Ay, madam. Gon. By day and night! he wrongs me; every hour, He flashes into one gross crime or other, • These sounds are unnatural and offensive in music. Not to be overruled. Idle old man, Remember what I have said. Stew. What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so: SCENE IV.-A Hall in the same. Enter KENT, disguised. [Exeunt. Kent. Authority. Lear. What services canst thou do? Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious 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 any thing: 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? my fool? Go you, and call my fool hither: I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent, when I think your highness is wrong'd. Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine own conception; I have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity,5 than as a very 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 wellGo, you, and tell my daughter I would speak with her.-Go you, call hither my fool.Re-enter Steward. O, you sir, you sir, come you hither: Who am I, sir! Stew. My lady's father. Lear. My lady's father! my lord's knave: you whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! Stew. I am none of this, my lord; I beseech you, pardon me. Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? [Striking him. Stew. I'll not be struck, my lord. Kent. Nor tripped neither; you base foot-ball player. [Tripping up his Heels. Lear. I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love thee. Fool. Let me hire him too;-Here's my coxcomb. [Giring KENT his Cap. Lear. How now, my pretty knave? how dost thou? Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. Kent. Why, fool? favor: Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind Fool. Why, for taking one's part that is out of sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly: There, take my coxcomb: Why, this fellow has banish'd two of his daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.-How now, nuncle? 'Would I had two coxcombs, and two daughters! Lear. Why, my boy? Fool. If I gave them all my living, 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 that must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out, when Lady, the brach, may stand by the tire and stink. Lear. A pestilent gall to me! Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. Fool. Mark it, nuncle: Have more than thou showest, And thou shalt have more Than two tens to a score. Lear. This is nothing, fool. Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you gave me nothing for't: Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. Fool. Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to; he will not believe a fool. [TO KENT. Lear. A bitter fool! Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool? Lear. No, lad; teach me. Fool. That lord, that counsell'd thee, To give away thy land, Punctilious jealousy. Bitch-hound. ■ Ownest, possessest. • Design. • Believest. |