When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear; And am fallen out with my more headier will, To take the indisposed and sickly fit
For the sound man.-Death on my state! where- fore [Looking on KEnt. Should he sit here? This act persuades me That this remotion of the duke and her Is practice 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, Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum Till it cry—“ Sleep to death.”
Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you. 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 rapped 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, Down, wantons, down." 'Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.
Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and Servants.
Lear. Good morrow to you both.
I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepúlch'ring an adultress. O, are you free? [TO KENT.
Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan, Thy sister's naught. O Regan, she hath tied Sharp-toothed 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.
Reg. I cannot think my sister in the least Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance, She have restrained 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,
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 endowed.
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!-
Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?— [TO GONERIL.
O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? Gon. Why not by the hand, sir?-How have I offended?
All's not offence that indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms so.
O, sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold?-How came my man i' the stocks?
Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many; sith that both charge and danger Speak 'gainst so great a number? How in one house
Should many people, under two commands, Hold amity? 'tis hard; almost impossible.
Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine? Reg: Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you,
We could control them. If you will come to me
Corn. I set him there, sir: but his own disorders (For now I spy a danger), I entreat you Deserved much less advancement.
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 dismissed! No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity 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, squire-like, pension beg To keep base life afoot.-Return with her! Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter To this detested groom. [Looking on the Steward. Gon. At your choice, sir.
Lear. I pr'y thee, daughter, do not make me
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 embosséd 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, Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove: Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure: I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, I and my hundred knights.
To bring but five-and-twenty: to no more Will I give place or notice.
Lear. I gave you all—
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 Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws Or ere I'll weep.-O, fool, I shall go mad! [Exeunt LEAR, GLOSTER, KENT, and Fool. Corn. Let us withdraw: 't will be a storm.
[Storm heard at a distance.
Reg. This house is little; the old man and his people
Cannot be well bestowed.
Gon. "T is his own blame: he hath put himself from rest,
And must needs taste his folly.
Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly;
Either in snuffs 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 scattered kingdom; who already, Wise in our negligence, have secret feet In some of our best ports, and are at point To shew 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.
Gent. I will talk further with you. Kent.
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), shew 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.
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. Storm continues.
Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our 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,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, 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 men nor fools.
Lear. Rumble thy belly full! Spit, fire! spout,
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 battles 'gainst a head So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul! Fool. He that has a house to put his head in, has a good head piece.
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 of a corn cry woe,
And turn his sleep to wake.
—for there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.
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