Scene VII
 
 
[Another room in the castle]
Enter KING and LAERTES

  King.  Now must your conscience my acquittance seal;   
And you must put me in your heart for friend,   
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,   
That he which hath your noble father slain           4
Pursued my life.   
  Laer.        It well appears. But tell me   
Why you proceeded not against these feats,   
So crimeful and so capital in nature,           8
As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,   
You mainly were stirr’d up.   
  King.        O, for two special reasons,   
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew’d,           12
And yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother   
Lives almost by his looks; and for myself—   
My virtue or my plague, be it either which—   
She’s so conjunctive 1 to my life and soul,           16
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,   
I could not but by her. The other motive   
Why to a public count I might not go,   
Is the great love the general gender 2 bear him;           20
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,   
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,   
Convert his gyves 3 to graces; so that my arrows,   
Too slightly timb’red for so loud a wind,           24
Would have reverted to my bow again,   
And not where I had aim’d them.   
  Laer.  And so have I a noble father lost,   
A sister driven into desperate terms,           28
Whose worth, if praises may go back again,   
Stood challenger on mount of all the age   
For her perfections. But my revenge will come.   
  King.  Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think           32
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull   
That we can let our beard be shook with danger   
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more.   
I lov’d your father, and we love ourself,           36
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine—   
 
Enter a Messenger with letters

How now! What news?   
  Mess.        Letters, my lord, from Hamlet.   
This to your Majesty; this to the Queen.           40
  King.  From Hamlet! Who brought them?   
  Mess.  Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.   
They were given me by Claudio. He receiv’d them   
[Of him that brought them].           44
  King.        Laertes, you shall hear them.   
Leave us.  Exit Messenger.   
  [Reads.]  “High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes, when I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasions of my sudden and more strange return.
HAMLET.”
   
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?           48
Or is it some abuse, or no such thing?   
  Laer.  Know you the hand?   
  King.  ’Tis Hamlet’s character. “Naked!”   
And in a postscript here, he says, “alone.”           52
Can you advise me?   
  Laer.  I’m lost in it, my lord. But let him come.   
It warms the very sickness in my heart   
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,           56
“Thus didest thou.”   
  King.        If it be so, Laertes,—   
As how should it be so? How otherwise?—   
Will you be rul’d by me?           60
  Laer.        [Ay, my lord,]   
If so you’ll not o’errule me to a peace.   
  King.  To thine own peace. If he be now return’d,   
As checking 4 at his voyage, and that he means           64
No more to undertake it, I will work him   
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,   
Under the which he shall not choose but fall;   
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,           68
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice 5   
And call it accident.   
  [Laer.        My lord, I will be rul’d;   
The rather, if you could devise it so           72
That I might be the organ. 6   
  King.        It falls right.   
You have been talk’d of since your travel much,   
And that in Hamlet’s hearing, for a quality           76
Wherein, they say, you shine. Your sum of parts   
Did not together pluck such envy from him   
As did that one, and that, in my regard,   
Of the unworthiest siege. 7           80
  Laer.        What part is that, my lord?   
  King.  A very riband in the cap of youth,   
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes   
The light and careless livery that it wears           84
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,   
Importing health and graveness.] Two months since,   
Here was a gentleman of Normandy;—   
I’ve seen myself, and serv’d against, the French,           88
And they can well on horseback; but this gallant   
Had witchcraft in ’t. He grew unto his seat,   
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,   
As had he been incorps’d 8 and demi-natur’d           92
With the brave beast. So far he pass’d my thought,   
That I, in forgery 9 of shapes and tricks,   
Come short of what he did.   
  Laer.        A Norman, was ’t?           96
  King.  A Norman.   
  Laer.  Upon my life, Lamound.   
  King.        The very same.   
  Laer.  I know him well. He is the brooch 10 indeed           100
And gem of all the nation.   
  King.  He made confession of you,   
And gave you such a masterly report   
For art and exercise in your defence,           104
And for your rapier most especially,   
That he cried out, ’twould be a sight indeed   
If one could match you. [The scrimers 11 of their nation,   
He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,           108
If you oppos’d them.] Sir, this report of his   
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy   
That he could nothing do but wish and beg   
Your sudden coming o’er to play with him.           112
Now, out of this—   
  Laer.        What out of this, my lord?   
  King.  Laertes, was your father dear to you?   
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,           116
A face without a heart?   
  Laer.        Why ask you this?   
  King.  Not that I think you did not love your father,   
But that I know love is begun by time,           120
And that I see, in passages of proof, 12   
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.   
[There lives within the very flame of love   
A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it,           124
And nothing is at a like goodness still;   
For goodness, growing to a plurisy, 13   
Dies in his own too much. That we would do,   
We should do when we would; for this “would” changes,           128
And hath abatements and delays as many   
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;   
And then this “should” is like a spendthrift sigh, 14   
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o’ the ulcer:—]           132
Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake,   
To show yourself your father’s son in deed   
More than in words?   
  Laer.        To cut his throat i’ the church.           136
  King.  No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize; 15   
Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,   
Will you do this, keep close within your chamber?   
Hamlet return’d shall know you are come home.           140
We’ll put on those shall praise your excellence   
And set a double varnish on the fame   
The Frenchman gave you, bring you, in fine, together   
And wager on your heads. He, being remiss,           144
Most generous and free from all contriving,   
Will not peruse the foils, so that, with ease,   
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose   
A sword unbated, 16 and in a pass of practice 17           148
Requite him for your father.   
  Laer.        I will do ’t;   
And, for that purpose, I’ll anoint my sword.   
I bought an unction of a mountebank, 18           152
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,   
Where it draws blood no cataplasm 19 so rare,   
Collected from all simples 20 that have virtue   
Under the moon, can save the thing from death           156
That is but scratch’d withal. I’ll touch my point   
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,   
It may be death.   
  King.        Let’s further think of this,           160
Weigh what convenience both of time and means   
May fit us to our shape. If this should fail,   
And that our drift look through our bad performance,   
’Twere better not assay’d; therefore this project           164
Should have a back or second, that might hold   
If this should blast in proof. 21 Soft! let me see.   
We’ll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,—   
I ha ’t!           168
When in your motion you are hot and dry—   
As make your bouts more violent to that end—   
And that he calls for drink, I’ll have prepar’d him   
A chalice for the nonce, 22 whereon but sipping,           172
If he by chance escape your venom’d stuck, 23   
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?   
 
Enter QUEEN

        How, sweet queen!   
  Queen.  One woe doth tread upon another’s heel,           176
So fast they follow. Your sister’s drown’d, Laertes.   
  Laer.  Drown’d! O, where?   
  Queen.  There is a willow grows aslant a brook,   
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.           180
There with fantastic garlands did she come   
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples 24   
That liberal 25 shepherds give a grosser name,   
But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them;           184
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds   
Clamb’ring to hang, an envious silver broke,   
When down her weedy trophies and herself   
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,           188
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;   
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes,   
As one incapable of 26 her own distress,   
Or like a creature native and indued 27           192
Unto that element. But long it could not be   
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,   
Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay   
To muddy death.           196
  Laer.        Alas, then, is she drown’d?   
  Queen.  Drown’d, drown’d.   
  Laer.  Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,   
And therefore I forbid my tears. But yet           200
It is our trick. Nature her custom holds,   
Let shame say what it will; when these are gone,   
The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord;   
I have a speech of fire that fain would blaze,           204
But that this folly douts 28 it.  Exit.   
  King.        Let’s follow, Gertrude.   
How much I had to do to calm his rage!   
Now fear I this will give it start again,           208
Therefore let’s follow.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Closely joined. [back]
Note 2. Multitude. [back]
Note 3. Fetters. [back]
Note 4. Refusing to proceed. [back]
Note 5. Free the plot from blame. [back]
Note 6. Instrument, means. [back]
Note 7. Rank. [back]
Note 8. Incorporated. [back]
Note 9. Imagination. [back]
Note 10. Ornament. [back]
Note 11. Fencers. [back]
Note 12. Proved instances. [back]
Note 13. Excess. [back]
Note 14. Sighing was supposed to draw blood from the heart, and so shorten life. [back]
Note 15. Protect, as in a sanctuary. [back]
Note 16. Unblunted. [back]
Note 17. Treacherous thrust. [back]
Note 18. Quack doctor. [back]
Note 19. Poultice. [back]
Note 20. Herbs. [back]
Note 21. Be blighted in trial. [back]
Note 22. Occasion. [back]
Note 23. Thrust. [back]
Note 24. Orchis. [back]
Note 25. Free-spoken. [back]
Note 26. Insensible of. [back]
Note 27. Fitted to. [back]
Note 28. Extinguishes. [back]
 

Act V
 
Scene I
 
 
[A churchyard]
Enter two Clowns [with spades and pickaxes]

  1. Clo.  Is she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation?   
  2. Clo.  I tell thee she is, and therefore make her grave straight. The crowner 1 hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.   
  1. Clo.  How can that be, unless she drown’d herself in her own defence?   
  2. Clo.  Why, ’tis found so.           4
  1. Clo.  It must be “se offendendo,” 2 it cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act, and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform; argal, 3 she drown’d herself wittingly.   
  2. Clo.  Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,—   
  1. Clo.  Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands the man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes,—mark you that? But if the water come to him and drown him, he drowns not himself; argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.   
  2. Clo.  But is this law?           8
  1. Clo.  Ay, marry, is ’t; crowner’s quest law.   
  2. Clo.  Will you ha’ the truth on ’t? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o’ Christian burial.   
  1. Clo.  Why, there thou say’st; and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Christian. 4 Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam’s profession.   
  2. Clo.  Was he a gentleman?           12
  1. Clo.  He was the first that ever bore arms.   
  2. Clo.  Why, he had none.   
  1. Clo.  What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture says Adam digg’d; could he dig without arms? I’ll put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself—   
  2. Clo.  Go to.           16
  1. Clo.  What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?   
  2. Clo.  The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.   
  1. Clo.  I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does well; but how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now, thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church, argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To ’t again, come.   
  2. Clo.  “Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?”           20
  1. Clo.  Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.   
  2. Clo.  Marry, now I can tell.   
  1. Clo.  To ’t.   
  2. Clo.  Mass, I cannot tell.           24
 
Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, afar off

  1. Clo.  Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when you are ask’d this question next, say “a grave-maker”; the houses that he makes lasts till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of liquor.  [Exit Second Clown.]  [He digs, and] sings.
           “In youth, when I did love, did love,
     Methought it was very sweet,
   To contract, O, the time for-a my behove,
     O, methought, there-a was nothing-a meet.”
   
  Ham.  Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making?   
  Hor.  Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. 5   
  Ham.  ’Tis e’en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.           28
  1. Clo.  (Sings.)
           “But age, with his stealing steps,
       Hath claw’d me in his clutch,
   And hath shipped me intil the land,
       As if I had never been such.”
[Throws up a skull.]
   
  Ham.  That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How the knave jowls 6 it to the ground, as if it were Cain’s jaw-bone, 7 that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o’erreaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?   
  Hor.  It might, my lord.   
  Ham.  Or of a courtier, which could say, “Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?” This might be my lord such-a-one, that prais’d my lord such-a-one’s horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?           32
  Hor.  Ay, my lord.   
  Ham.  Why, e’en so; and now my Lady Worm’s; chapless, and knock’d about the mazzard 8 with a sexton’s spade. Here’s fine revolution, if we had the trick to see’t. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats 9 with’em? Mine ache to think on ’t.   
#   1. Clo.  (Sings.)
           “A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
       For and a shrouding sheet;
   O, a pit of clay for to be made
       For such a guest is meet.”
[Throws up another skull.]
   
  Ham.  There’s another. Why might not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits 10 now, his quillets, 11 his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce 12 with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in ’s time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. 13 Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box, and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?           36
  Hor.  Not a jot more, my lord.   
  Ham.  Is not parchment made of sheep-skins?   
  Hor.  Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.   
  Ham.  They are sheep and calves that seek out assurance in that.           40
I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave ’s this, sir?   
  1. Clo.  Mine, sir.  [Sings.]
           “O, a pit of clay for to be made
       For such a guest is meet.”
   
  Ham.  I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in ’t.   
  1. Clo.  You lie out on ’t, sir, and therefore it is not yours. For my part, I do not lie in ’t, and yet it is mine.           44
  Ham.  Thou dost lie in ’t, to be in ’t and say ’tis thine. ’Tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou liest.   
  1. Clo.  ’Tis a quick 14 lie, sir; ’twill away again, from me to you.   
  Ham.  What man dost thou dig it for?   
  1. Clo.  For no man, sir.           48
  Ham.  What woman, then?   
  1. Clo.  For none, neither.   
  Ham.  Who is to be buried in ’t?   
  1. Clo.  One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she’s dead.           52
  Ham.  How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it; the age is grown so picked 15 that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heels of our courtier, he galls his kibe. 16 How long hast thou been a grave-maker?   
  1. Clo.  Of all the days i’ the year, I came to ’t that day that our last king Hamlet o’ercame Fortinbras.   
  Ham.  How long is that since?   
  1. Clo.  Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that was mad, and sent into England.           56
  Ham.  Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?   
  1. Clo.  Why, because ’a was mad. He shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, it’s no great matter there.   
  Ham.  Why?   
  1. Clo.  Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.           60
  Ham.  How came he mad?   
  1. Clo.  Very strangely, they say.   
  Ham.  How “strangely”?   
  1. Clo.  Faith, e’en with losing his wits.           64
  Ham.  Upon what ground?   
  1. Clo.  Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.   
  Ham.  How long will a man lie i’ the earth ere he rot?   
  1. Clo.  I’ faith, if he be not rotten before he die—as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in—he will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last you nine year.           68
  Ham.  Why he more than another?   
  1. Clo.  Why, sir, his hide is so tann’d with his trade that he will keep out water a great while, and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here’s a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth three and twenty years.   
  Ham.  Whose was it?   
  1. Clo.  A whoreson mad fellow’s it was. Whose do you think it was?           72
  Ham.  Nay, I know not.   
  1. Clo.  A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! ’A pour’d a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick’s skull, the King’s jester.   
  Ham.  This?   
  1. Clo.  E’en that.           76
  Ham.  Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kiss’d I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now, your gambols, your songs, your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chopfallen? Now get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come. Make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.   
  Hor.  What ’s that, my lord?   
  Ham.  Dost thou think Alexander look’d o’ this fashion i’ the earth?   
  Hor.  E’en so.           80
  Ham.  And smelt so? Pah!  [Puts down the skull.]   
  Hor.  E’en so, my lord.   
  Ham.  To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?   
  Hor.  ”Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.           84
  Ham.  No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty 17 enough and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust, the dust is earth, of earth we make loam, and why of that loam whereto he was converted might they not stop a beer-barrel?
           Imperial CÆsar, dead and turn’d to clay,
   Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
   O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
   Should patch a wall to expel the winter’s flaw! 18
But soft! but soft! Aside! Here comes the King,   
 
Enter [Priests, etc., in procession;] KING, QUEEN, LAERTES, and a Coffin, with Lords attendant

The Queen, the courtiers. Who is that they follow?   
And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken   
The corse they follow did with desperate hand           88
Fordo 19 it 20 own life. ’Twas of some estate.   
Couch we a while, and mark.  [Retiring with HORATIO.]   
  Laer.  What ceremony else?   
  Ham.  That is Laertes, a very noble youth. Mark.           92
  Laer.  What ceremony else?   
  Priest.  Her obsequies have been as far enlarg’d   
As we have warrantise. Her death was doubtful;   
And, but that great command o’ersways the order,           96
She should in ground unsanctified have lodg’d   
Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayer,   
Shards, 21 flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her.   
Yet here she is allowed her virgin rites,           100
Her maiden strewments, 22 and the bringing home   
Of bell and burial.   
  Laer.  Must there no more be done?   
  Priest.        No more be done.           104
We should profane the service of the dead   
To sing such requiem and such rest to her   
As to peace-parted souls.   
  Laer.        Lay her i’ the earth,           108
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh   
May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest   
A minist’ring angel shall my sister be,   
When thou liest howling.           112
  Ham.        What, the fair Ophelia!   
  Queen.  Sweets to the sweet; farewell!  [Scattering flowers.]   
I hop’d thou shouldst have been my Hamlet’s wife.   
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck’d, sweet maid,           116
And not to have strew’d thy grave.   
  Laer.        O, treble woe   
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head   
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense           120
Depriv’d thee of! Hold off the earth a while,   
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms.  Leaps in the grave.   
Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,   
Till of this flat a mountain you have made           124
To o’ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head   
Of blue Olympus.   
  Ham.  [Advancing.]  What is he whose grief   
Bears such an emphasis, whose phrase of sorrow           128
Conjures the wand’ring stars and makes them stand   
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,   
Hamlet, the Dane!  [Leaps into the grave.]   
  Laer.  The devil take thy soul!  [Grappling with him.]           132
  Ham.        Thou pray’st not well.   
I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat,   
For, though I am not splenitive 23 and rash,   
Yet have I something in me dangerous,           136
Which let thy wiseness fear. Away thy hand!   
  King.  Pluck them asunder.   
  Queen.        Hamlet, Hamlet!   
  [All.        Gentlemen,—           140
  Hor.]  Good my lord, be quiet.  [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave.]   
  Ham.  Why, I will fight with him upon this theme   
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.   
  Queen.  O my son, what theme?           144
  Ham.  I lov’d Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers   
Could not, with all their quantity of love,   
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?   
  King.  O, he is mad, Laertes.           148
  Queen.  For love of God, forbear him.   
  Ham.  [’Swounds,] show me what thou ’lt do.   
Woo ’t 24 weep? Woo ’t fight? [Woo ’t fast?] Woo ’t tear thyself?   
Woo ’t drink up eisel? 25 Eat a crocodile?           152
I’ll do ’t. Dost thou come here to whine?   
To outface me with leaping in her grave?   
Be buried quick with her, and so will I;   
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw           156
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,   
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,   
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou ’lt mouth,   
I’ll rant as well as thou.           160
  [Queen.]        This is mere madness,   
And thus a while the fit will work on him.   
Anon, as patient as the female dove,   
When that her golden couplets 26 are disclos’d,           164
His silence will sit drooping.   
  Ham.        Hear you, sir,   
What is the reason that you use me thus?   
I lov’d you ever. But it is no matter.           168
Let Hercules himself do what he may,   
The cat will mew and dog will have his day.  Exit.   
  King.  I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.  [Exit HORATIO.]   
[To LAERTES.] Strengthen your patience in our last night’s speech;           172
We’ll put the matter to the present push. 27   
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.   
This grave shall have a living monument.   
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;           176
Till then, in patience our proceeding be.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Coroner. [back]
Note 2. The clown’s mistake for “se defendendo.” [back]
Note 3. Ergo, therefore. [back]
Note 4. Fellow-Christian. [back]
Note 5. A function he performs easily. [back]
Note 6. Knocks. [back]
Note 7. The ass’s jawbone with which, according to legend, Cain slew Abel. [back]
Note 8. Head. [back]
Note 9. A game played with little logs of wood. [back]
Note 10. Subtleties and fine distinctions. [back]
Note 11. Subtleties and fine distinctions. [back]
Note 12. Head. [back]
Note 13. Technical legal terms. [back]
Note 14. Living. [back]
Note 15. Smart. [back]
Note 16. Chilblain. [back]
Note 17. Moderation. [back]
Note 18. Gust. [back]
Note 19. Destroy. [back]
Note 20. Its. [back]
Note 21. Potsherds. [back]
Note 22. Strewing with flowers. [back]
Note 23. Easily angry. [back]
Note 24. Wouldst thou. [back]
Note 25. Vinegar. [back]
Note 26. Pair of young doves. [back]
Note 27. Immediate operation. [back]
 

Scene II
 
 
[A hall in the castle]
Enter HAMLET and HORATIO

  Ham.  So much for this, sir; now let me see the other.   
You do remember all the circumstance?   
  Hor.  Remember it, my lord!   
  Ham.  Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,           4
That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay   
Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. 1 Rashly,—   
And prais’d be rashness for it; let us know   
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well           8
When our deep plots do pall; 2 and that should teach us   
There ’s a divinity that shapes our ends,   
Rough-hew them how we will,—   
  Hor.        That is most certain.           12
  Ham.  Up from my cabin,   
My sea-gown scarf’d about me, in the dark   
Grop’d I to find out them; had my desire;   
Finger’d their packet; and, in fine, withdrew           16
To mine own room again, making so bold,   
My fears forgetting manners, to unseal   
Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,—   
O royal knavery!—an exact command,           20
Larded 3 with many several sorts of reason   
Importing Denmark’s health and England’s too,   
With, ho! such bugs 4 and goblins in my life,   
That, on the supervise, 5 no leisure bated,           24
No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,   
My head should be struck off.   
  Hor.        Is ’t possible?   
  Ham.  Here’s the commission; read it at more leisure.           28
But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?   
  Hor.  I beseech you.   
  Ham.  Being thus be-netted round with villainies,—   
Ere I could make a prologue to my brains,           32
They had begun the play,—I sat me down,   
Devis’d a new commission, wrote it fair.   
I once did hold it, as our statists 6 do,   
A baseness to write fair, and labour’d much           36
How to forget that learning; but, sir, now   
It did me yeoman’s service. Wilt thou know   
The effect 7 of what I wrote?   
  Hor.        Ay, good my lord.           40
  Ham.  An earnest conjuration from the King,   
As England was his faithful tributary,   
As love between them as the palm should flourish,   
As Peace should still her wheaten garland wear           44
And stand a comma 8 ’tween their amities,   
And many such-like as-es of great charge,   
That, on the view and knowing of these contents,   
Without debatement further, more or less,           48
He should the bearers put to sudden death,   
Not shriving time allow’d.   
  Hor.        How was this seal’d?   
  Ham.  Why, even in that was Heaven ordinant. 9           52
I had my father’s signet in my purse,   
Which was the model of that Danish seal;   
Folded the writ up in form of the other,   
Subscrib’d it, gave ’t the impression, 10 plac’d it safely,           56
The changeling never known. Now, the next day   
Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent   
Thou know’st already.   
  Hor.  So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to ’t.           60
  Ham.  Why, man, they did make love to this employment;   
They are not near my conscience. Their defeat   
Doth by their own insinuation grow.   
’Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes           64
Between the pass 11 and fell incensed points   
Of mighty opposites. 12   
  Hor.        Why, what a king is this!   
  Ham.  Does it not, thinks’t thee, stand me now upon— 13           68
He that hath kill’d my king and whor’d my mother,   
Popp’d in between the election and my hopes,   
Thrown out his angle for my proper 14 life,   
And with such cozenage 15—is ’t not perfect conscience,           72
To quit him with this arm? And is ’t not to be damn’d,   
To let this canker of our nature come   
In further evil?   
  Hor.  It must be shortly known to him from England           76
What is the issue of the business there.   
  Ham.  It will be short; the interim is mine,   
And a man’s life’s no more than to say “One.”   
But I am very sorry, good Horatio           80
That to Laertes I forgot myself;   
For, by the image of my cause, I see   
The portraiture of his. I’ll court his favours.   
But, sure, the bravery 16 of his grief did put me           84
Into a tow’ring passion.   
  Hor.        Peace! who comes here?   
 
Enter Young OSRIC

  Osr.  Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.   
  Ham.  I humbly thank you, sir.—Dost know this waterfly?           88
  Hor.  No, my good lord.   
  Ham.  Thy state is the more gracious, for ’tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile; let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the King’s mess. ’Tis a chough, 17 but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.   
  Osr.  Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his Majesty.   
  Ham.  I will receive it with all diligence of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; ’tis for the head.           92
  Osr.  I thank your lordship, ’tis very hot.   
  Ham.  No, believe me, ’tis very cold; the wind is northerly.   
  Osr.  It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.   
  Ham.  Methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion.           96
  Osr.  Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,—as ’twere,—I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter,—   
  Ham.  I beseech you, remember—  [HAMLET moves him to put on his hat.]   
  Osr.  Nay, in good faith; for mine ease, in good faith. [Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes, believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, 18 of very soft society and great showing; indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card 19 or calendar 20 of gentry, for you shall find in him the continent 21 of what part a gentleman would see.   
  Ham.  Sir, his definement 22 suffers no perdition 23 in you; though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw 24 neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article; 25 and his infusion of such dearth and rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his semblable 26 is his mirror; and who else would trace him, his umbrage, 27 nothing more.           100
  Osr.  Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.   
  Ham.  The concernancy, 28 sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath?   
  Osr.  Sir?   
  Hor.  Is ’t not possible to understand in another tongue? You will do ’t, sir, really.           104
  Ham.  What imports the nomination of this gentleman?   
  Osr.  Of Laertes?   
  Hor.  His purse is empty already. All ’s golden words are spent.   
  Ham.  Of him, sir.           108
  Osr.  I know you are not ignorant—   
  Ham.  I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir?]   
  Osr.  You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is—   
  [Ham.  I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself.           112
  Osr.  I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him by them, in his meed he’s unfellowed.]   
  Ham.  What’s his weapon?   
  Osr.  Rapier and dagger.   
  Ham.  That’s two of his weapons; but well.           116
  Osr.  The King, sir, has wag’d with him six Barbary horses, against the which he has impon’d, 29 as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, 30 as girdle, hanger, or so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive 31 to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit. 32   
  Ham.  What call you the carriages?   
  [Hor.  I knew you must be edified by the margent 33 ere you had done.]   
  Osr.  The carriages, sir, are the hangers.           120
  Ham.  The phrase would be more germane to the matter, if we could carry cannon by our sides; I would it might be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages; that ’s the French bet against the Danish. Why is this “impon’d,” as you call it?   
  Osr.  The King, sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes between you and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath laid on twelve for nine; and that would come to immediate trial, if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.   
  Ham.  How if I answer no?   
  Osr.  I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.           124
  Ham.  Sir, I will walk here in the hall; if it please his Majesty, ’tis the breathing 34 time of day with me. Let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, I will win for him if I can; if not, I’ll gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.   
  Osr.  Shall I re-deliver you e’en so?   
  Ham.  To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.   
  Osr.  I commend my duty to your lordship.           128
  Ham.  Yours, yours.  [Exit OSRIC.] He does well to commend it himself; there are no tongues else for ’s turn.   
  Hor.  This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.   
  Ham.  He did comply 35 with his dug before he suck’d it. Thus has he, and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes on, only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed 36 opinions; and do but blow them to their trials, the bubbles are out.   
 
[Enter a Lord

  Lord.  My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall. He sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.           132
  Ham.  I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King’s pleasure. If his fitness speaks, mine is ready, now or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.   
  Lord.  The King and Queen and all are coming down.   
  Ham.  In happy time.   
  Lord.  The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play.           136
  Ham.  She well instructs me.]  [Exit Lord.]   
  Hor.  You will lose this wager, my lord.   
  Ham.  I do not think so; since he went into France, I have been in continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all’s here about my heart. But it is no matter.   
  Hor.  Nay, good my lord,—           140
  Ham.  It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving, 37 as would perhaps trouble a woman.   
  Hor.  If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit.   
  Ham.  Not a whit; we defy augury. There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come; the readiness is all. Since no man has aught of what he leaves, 38 what is ’t to leave betimes? [Let be.]   
 
Enter KING, QUEEN, LAERTES, [OSRIC,] Lords, and other Attendants with foils and gauntlets; a table and flagons of wine on it

  King.  Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.  [The KING puts LAERTES’S hand into HAMLET’s.]           144
  Ham.  Give me your pardon, sir. I’ve done you wrong,   
But pardon ’t, as you are a gentleman.   
This presence 39 knows,   
And you must needs have heard, how I am punish’d           148
With sore distraction. What I have done   
That might your nature, honour, and exception 40   
Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.   
Was ’t Hamlet wrong’d Laertes? Never Hamlet!           152
If Hamlet from himself be ta’en away,   
And when he’s not himself does wrong Laertes,   
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.   
Who does it, then? His madness. If’t be so,           156
Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong’d;   
His madness is poor Hamlet’s enemy.   
Sir, in this audience,   
Let my disclaiming from a purpos’d evil           160
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,   
That I have shot mine arrow o’er the house   
And hurt my brother.   
  Laer.        I am satisfied in nature,           164
Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most   
To my revenge; but in my terms of honour   
I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement,   
Till by some elder masters of known honour           168
I have a voice and precedent of peace,   
To keep my name ungor’d. 41 But till that time,   
I do receive your offer’d love like love,   
And will not wrong it.           172
  Ham.        I embrace it freely,   
And will this brother’s wager frankly play.   
Give us the foils. Come on.   
  Laer.        Come, one for me.           176
  Ham.  I’ll be your foil, Laertes; in mine ignorance   
Your skill shall, like a star i’ the darkest night,   
Stick fiery off 42 indeed.   
  Laer.        You mock me, sir.           180
  Ham.  No, by this hand.   
  King.  Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, You know the wager?   
  Ham.        Very well, my lord.   
Your Grace hath laid the odds o’ the weaker side.           184
  King.  I do not fear it, I have seen you both;   
But since he is better’d, we have therefore odds.   
  Laer.  This is too heavy, let me see another.   
  Ham.  This likes me well. These foils have all a length?  They prepare to play.           188
  Osr  Ay, my good lord.   
  King.  Set me the stoups of wine upon that table.   
If Hamlet give the first or second hit,   
Or quit in answer of the third exchange,           192
Let all the battlements their ordnance fire.   
The King shall drink to Hamlet’s better breath,   
And in the cup an union 43 shall he throw,   
Richer than that which four successive kings           196
In Denmark’s crown have worn. Give me the cups,   
And let the kettle to the trumpets speak,   
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,   
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,           200
“Now the King drinks to Hamlet.” Come, begin;   
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.   
  Ham.  Come on, sir.   
  Laer.        Come, my lord.  They play.           204
  Ham.        One.   
  Laer.        No.   
  Ham.      Judgement.   
  Osr  A hit, a very palpable hit.           208
  Laer.        Well; again.   
  King.  Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;   
Here’s to thy health! Give him the cup.  [Trumpets sound, and shot goes off within.]   
  Ham.  I’ll play this bout first; set it by a while.           212
Come. [They play.] Another hit; what say you?   
  Laer.  A touch, a touch, I do confess.   
  King.  Our son shall win.   
  Queen.        He’s fat, and scant of breath.           216
Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows.   
The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.   
  Ham.  Good madam!   
  King.        Gertrude, do not drink.           220
  Queen.  I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.   
  King.  [Aside.] It is the poison’d cup; it is too late.   
  Ham.  I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by.   
  Queen.  Come, let me wipe thy face.           224
  Laer.  My lord, I’ll hit him now.   
  King.        I do not think ’t.   
  Laer.  [Aside.] And yet ’tis almost ’gainst my conscience.   
  Ham.  Come, for the third, Laertes; you but dally.           228
I pray you, pass with your best violence.   
I am afeard you make a wanton of me.   
  Laer.  Say you so? Come on.  They play.   
  Osr  Nothing, neither way.           232
  Laer.  Have at you now!  [LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then,] in scuffling, they change rapiers.   
  King.        Part them; they are incens’d.   
  Ham.  Nay, come, again.  [HAMLET wounds LAERTES. The QUEEN falls.]   
  Osr.        Look to the Queen there! Ho!           236
  Hor.  They bleed on both sides. How is ’t, my lord!   
  Osr.  How is ’t, Laertes?   
  Laer.  Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, 44 Osric;   
I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery.           240
  Ham.  How does the Queen?   
  King.        She swounds to see them bleed.   
  Queen.  No, no, the drink, the drink,—O my dear Hamlet,—   
The drink, the drink! I am poison’d.  [Dies.]           244
  Ham.  O villainy! Ho! let the door be lock’d:   
Treachery! Seek it out.   
  Laer.  It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain.   
No medicine in the world can do thee good;           248
In thee there is not half an hour of life.   
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,   
Unbated and envenom’d. The foul practice 45   
Hath turn’d itself on me. Lo, here I lie,           252
Never to rise again. Thy mother’s poison’d.   
I can no more:—the King, the King’s to blame.   
  Ham.  The point envenom’d too!   
Then, venom, to thy work.  Hurts the KING.           256
  All.  Treason! treason!   
  King.  O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt.   
  Ham.  Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,   
Drink off this potion! Is thy union here?           260
Follow my mother!  KING dies.   
  Laer.        He is justly serv’d;   
It is a poison temp’red 46 by himself.   
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet,           264
Mine and my father’s death come not upon thee,   
Nor thine on me!  [Dies.]   
  Ham.  Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.   
I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!           268
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,   
That are but mutes or audience to this act,   
Had I but time—as this fell sergeant, Death,   
Is strict in his arrest—O, I could tell you—           272
But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;   
Thou liv’st. Report me and my cause aright   
To the unsatisfied.   
  Hor.        Never believe it.           276
I am more an antique Roman than a Dane;   
Here’s yet some liquor left.   
  Ham.        As thou ’rt a man,   
Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I’ll have’t!           280
O good Horatio, what a wounded name,   
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!   
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,   
Absent thee from felicity a while           284
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain   
To tell my story.  [March afar off, and shot within.   
      What warlike noise is this?   
  Osr.  Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,           288
To the ambassadors of England gives   
This warlike volley.   
  Ham.        O, I die, Horatio;   
The potent poison quite o’er-crows 47 my spirit.           292
I cannot live to hear the news from England,   
But I do prophesy the election lights   
On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice.   
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,           296
Which have solicited 48—The rest is silence.  Dies.   
  Hor.  Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince,   
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!   
Why does the drum come hither?  [March within.]           300
 
Enter FORTINBRAS and the English Ambassador, with drum, colours. and Attendants

  Fort.  Where is this sight?   
  Hor.        What is it ye would see?   
If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.   
  Fort.  This quarry 49 cries on havoc. O proud Death,           304
What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,   
That thou so many princes at a shot   
So bloodily hast struck?   
  Amb.        The sight is dismal,           308
And our affairs from England come too late.   
The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,   
To tell him his commandment is fulfill’d,   
That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.           312
Where should we have our thanks?   
  Hor.        Not from his mouth,   
He never gave commandment for their death.   
But since, so jump 50 upon this bloody question,           316
You from the Polack wars, and you from England,   
Are here arrived, give order that these bodies   
High on a stage be placed to the view;   
And let me speak to the yet unknowing world           320
How these things came about. So shall you hear   
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,   
Of accidental judgements, casual slaughters,   
Of deaths put on by cunning and forc’d cause,           324
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook   
Fallen on the inventors’ heads: all this can I   
Truly deliver.   
  Fort.        Let us haste to hear it,           328
And call the noblest to the audience.   
For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune.   
I have some rights of memory 51 in this kingdom,   
Which now to claim, my vantage doth invite me.           332
  Hor.  Of that I shall have also cause to speak,   
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more.   
But let this same be presently 52 perform’d   
Even while men’s minds are wild, lest more mischance,           336
On plots and errors, happen.   
  Fort.        Let four captains   
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage,   
For he was likely, had he been put on, 53           340
To have prov’d most royally; and, for his passage, 54   
The soldiers’ music and the rites of war   
Speak loudly for him.   
Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this           344
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.   
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.  Exeunt marching, [bearing off the dead bodies;] after which a peal of ordnance are shot off.   
 
Note 1. Mutineers in fetters. [back]
Note 2. Weaken. [back]
Note 3. Garnished. [back]
Note 4. Bugbears. [back]
Note 5. First reading. [back]
Note 6. Statesmen. [back]
Note 7. Substance. [back]
Note 8. A phrase occuring in the midst of a sentence (?). A link (?). [back]
Note 9. Controlling. [back]
Note 10. I. e. of the seal. [back]
Note 11. Thrust. [back]
Note 12. Opponents. [back]
Note 13. Is it not my duty? [back]
Note 14. Own. [back]
Note 15. Deceit. [back]
Note 16. Ostentation. [back]
Note 17. Jackdaw. [back]
Note 18. Distinctions, characteristics. [back]
Note 19. Chart, for guidance. [back]
Note 20. Example. [back]
Note 21. Abstract, summary. [back]
Note 22. Description. [back]
Note 23. Loss. [back]
Note 24. Move unsteadily. [back]
Note 25. Importance. [back]
Note 26. Like. [back]
Note 27. Shadow. [back]
Note 28. Import. [back]
Note 29. Wagered. [back]
Note 30. Appendages. [back]
Note 31. Corresponding. [back]
Note 32. Ornamental design. [back]
Note 33. Instructed by the marginal comment. [back]
Note 34. For relaxation. [back]
Note 35. Use ceremony. [back]
Note 36. Foolish and over-refined. [back]
Note 37. Misgiving. [back]
Note 38. Carries anything beyond the grave. [back]
Note 39. The court. [back]
Note 40. Disapproval. [back]
Note 41. Uninjured. [back]
Note 42. Stand out in brilliant contrast. [back]
Note 43. Pearl. [back]
Note 44. Snare. [back]
Note 45. Plot. [back]
Note 46. Mixed. [back]
Note 47. Triumphs over. [back]
Note 48. Prompted. [back]
Note 49. Pile of corpses. [back]
Note 50. Precisely. [back]
Note 51. Traditional. [back]
Note 52. Immediately. [back]
Note 53. Tested (as king). [back]
Note 54. Carrying off the body. [back]

Introductory Note
 
 
“KING LEAR” is, in its picture of the tragic effect of human weakness and human cruelty, the most overpowering of the works of Shakespeare. It was written about 1605, in the middle of that period of his activity when he was interested, for whatever reason, in portraying the suffering and disaster that are entailed by defects of character, and the terrible cost at which such defects are purged away; and not even “Hamlet” displays these things so irresistibly.     1
The germ of the story is found in the folk-lore of many ages and countries. Attached to the name of Lear, the legend assumed pseudo-historical form with Geoffrey of Monmouth in the twelfth century, was handed down through the long line of Latin and English chroniclers, appeared in collections of tales, found a place in Spenser’s “Faerie Queene,” and was dramatized by an anonymous playwright about ten years before the date of Shakespeare’s drama. To Shakespeare himself is due the tragic catastrophe which takes the place of the traditional fortunate ending, according to which the French forces were victorious, and Lear was restored to his kingdom. He first makes Lear go mad; invents the banishment of Kent and his subsequent disguise; creates the Fool; and, finally, connects with Lear the whole story of Gloucester and his sons.     2
  This skilfully interwoven underplot is taken from Sidney’s “Arcadia,” in which a story is told of a king turned against his legitimate son by the slanders of his bastard. The pretended madness of Edgar, and the love of the wicked daughters for Edmund are inventions of Shakespeare’s.     3
  But these details are not the only means by which the improbable legend is converted into the most tremendous of tragedies. This is done chiefly by the intensity with which the characters are conceived: the imperiousness and intellectual grasp of Lear, the force and subtlety of Edmund, the venom of the wicked daughters, the tenderness of Cordelia, the impassioned loyalty of Kent, the unselfishness of Edgar, and the poignant candor of the faithful Fool.

Act I
 
Scene I
 
 
[King Lear’s palace]
Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND

  Kent.  I THOUGHT the King had more affected 1 the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.   
  Glou.  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 qualities 2 are so weigh’d, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety. 3   
  Kent.  Is not this your son, my lord?   
  Glou.  His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blush’d to acknowledge him, that now I am braz’d 4 to ’t.           4
  Kent.  I cannot conceive you.   
  Glou.  Sir, this young fellow’s mother could; whereupon she grew round-womb’d, 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. 5   
  Glou.  But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. 6 Though this knave came something 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?           8
  Edm.  No, my lord.   
  Glou.  My Lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.   
  Edm.  My services to your lordship.   
  Kent.  I must love you, and sue to know you better.           12
  Edm.  Sir, I shall study deserving.   
  Glou.  He hath been out 7 nine years, and away he shall again. The King is coming.   
 
Sennet. 8 Enter one bearing a coronet, then KING LEAR, then the DUKES OF ALBANY and CORNWALL, next GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, with followers

  Lear.  Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.   
  Glou.  I shall, my lord.  Exeunt [GLOUCESTER and EDMUND].           16
  Lear.  Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.   
Give me the map there. Know that we have divided   
In three our kingdom; and ’tis our fast intent   
To shake all cares and business from our age,           20
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we   
Unburden’d crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,   
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,   
We have this hour a constant will to publish           24
Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife   
May be prevented now. The Princes, France and Burgundy,   
Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love,   
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,           28
And here are to be answer’d. Tell me, my daughters,—   
Since now we will divest us both of rule,   
Interest of territory, cares of state,—   
Which of you shall we say doth love us most,           32
That we our largest bounty may extend   
Where nature doth with merit challenge? 9 Goneril,   
Our eldest-born, speak first.   
  Gon.  Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter;           36
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;   
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;   
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;   
As much as child e’er lov’d, or father found;           40
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable:   
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.   
  Cor.  [Aside.]  What shall Cordelia speak? Love and be silent.   
  Lear.  Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,           44
With shadowy forests and with champains 10 rich’d,   
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,   
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany’s issues   
Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,           48
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? Speak.   
  Reg.  I am made of that self metal as my sister,   
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart   
I find she names my very deed of love;           52
Only she comes too short, that I profess   
Myself an enemy to all other joys   
Which the most precious square of sense 11 possesses;   
And find I am alone felicitate           56
In your dear Highness’ love.   
  Cor.        [Aside.]  Then poor Cordelia!   
And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love’s   
More ponderous than my tongue.           60
  Lear.  To thee and thine hereditary ever   
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;   
No less in space, validity, and pleasure,   
Than that conferr’d on Goneril. Now, our joy,           64
Although our last and least, to whose young love 12   
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy   
Strive to be interess’d, 13 what can you say to draw   
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.           68
  Cor.  Nothing, my lord.   
  Lear.  Nothing!   
  Cor.  Nothing.   
  Lear.  Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.           72
  Cor.  Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave   
My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty   
According to my bond; no more nor less.   
  Lear.  How, how, Cordelia! Mend your speech a little,           76
Lest you may mar your fortunes.   
  Cor.        Good my lord,   
You have begot me, bred me, lov’d me: I   
Return those duties back as are right fit;           80
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.   
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say   
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,   
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry           84
Half my love with him, half my care and duty.   
Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters   
[To love my father all].   
  Lear.  But goes thy heart with this?           88
  Cor.        Ay, my good lord.   
  Lear.  So young, and so untender?   
  Cor.  So young, my lord, and true.   
  Lear.  Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower!           92
For, by the scared radiance of the sun,   
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;   
By all the operation of the orbs   
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;           96
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,   
Propinquity and property 14 of blood,   
And as a stranger to my heart and me   
Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,           100
Or he that makes his generation messes 15   
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom   
Be as well neighbour’d, piti’d, and reliev’d,   
As thou my sometime daughter.           104
  Kent.        Good my liege,—   
  Lear.  Peace, Kent!   
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.   
I lov’d her most, and thought to set my rest           108
On her kind nursery. 16 [To COR.] Hence, and avoid my sight!—   
So be my grave my peace, as here I give   
Her father’s heart from her! Call France.—Who stirs?   
Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,           112
With my two daughters’ dowers digest the third;   
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.   
I do invest you jointly with my power,   
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects           116
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,   
With reservation of an hundred knights,   
By you to be sustain’d, shall our abode   
Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain           120
The name, and all the addition 17 to a king;   
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,   
Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,   
This coronet part between you.           124
  Kent.        Royal Lear,   
Whom I have ever honour’d as my king,   
Lov’d as my father, as my master follow’d,   
As my great patron thought on in my prayers,—           128
  Lear.  The bow is bent and drawn; make from the shaft.   
  Kent.  Let it fall rather, though the fork invade   
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly   
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man?           132
Thinkst thou that duty shall have dread to speak,   
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour’s bound,   
When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state;   
And, in thy best consideration, check           136
This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement,   
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;   
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds   
Reverb 18 no hollowness.           140
  Lear.        Kent, on thy life, no more.   
  Kent.  My life I never held but as a pawn   
To wage against thy enemies, ne’er fear to lose it.   
Thy safety being motive.           144
  Lear.        Out of my sight   
  Kent.  See better, Lear; and let me still remain   
The true blank 19 of thine eye.   
  Lear.        Now, by Apollo,—           148
  Kent.  Now, by Apollo, king,   
Thou swear’st thy gods in vain.   
  Lear.        O, vassal! miscreant!  [Laying his hand on his sword.]   
  Alb. & Corn.  Dear sir, forbear.           152
  Kent.  Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow   
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift;   
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,   
I’ll tell thee thou dost evil.           156
  Lear.        Hear me, recreant!   
On thine allegiance, hear me!   
That thou hast sought to make us break our vows,   
Which we durst never yet, and with strain’d pride           160
To come betwixt our sentences and our power,   
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,   
Our potency made good, take thy reward.   
Five days we do allot thee, for provision           164
To shield thee from disasters 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,           168
The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,   
This shall not be revok’d.   
  Kent.  Fare thee well, king! Sith thus thou wilt appear,   
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.           172
[To CORDELIA.] The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,   
That justly think’st, and hast most rightly said!   
[To REGAN and GONERIL.] And your large speeches may your deeds approve,   
That good effects may spring from words of love.           176
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;   
He’ll shape his old course in a country new.  Exit.   
 
Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and Attendants

  Glou.  Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.   
  Lear.  My Lord of Burgundy,           180
We first address toward you, who with this king   
Hath rivall’d for our daughter. What, in the least,   
Will you require in present dower with her,   
Or cease your quest of love?           184
  Bur.        Most royal Majesty,   
I crave no more than what your Highness offer’d,   
Nor will you tender less.   
  Lear.        Right noble Burgundy,           188
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;   
But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands:   
If aught within that little-seeming substance,   
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec’d,           192
And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,   
She’s there, and she is yours.   
  Bur.        I know no answer.   
  Lear.  Will you, with those infirmities she owes, 20           196
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,   
Dower’d with our curse, and stranger’d with our oath,   
Take her, or leave her?   
  Bur.        Pardon me, royal sir;           200
Election makes not up 21 in such conditions.   
  Lear.  Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,   
I tell you all her wealth. [To FRANCE.] For you, great king,   
I would not from your love make such a stray,           204
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you   
To avert your liking a more worthier way   
Than on a wretch whom Nature is asham’d   
Almost to acknowledge hers.           208
  France.        This is most strange,   
That she, whom even but now was your best object,   
The argument 22 of your praise, balm of your age,   
The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time           212
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle   
So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence   
Must be of such unnatural degree,   
That monsters 23 it, or your fore-vouch’d affection           216
Fallen into taint; which to believe of her,   
Must be a faith that reason without miracle   
Should never plant in me.   
  Cor.        I yet beseech your Majesty,—           220
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,           224
No unchaste action, or dishonoured step,   
That hath depriv’d me of your grace and favour;   
But even for want of that for which I am richer,   
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue           228
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.           232
  France.  Is it but this,—a tardiness in nature   
Which often leaves the history 24 unspoke   
That it intends to do? My Lord of Burgundy,   
What say you to the lady? Love’s not love           236
When it is mingled with regards 25 that stand   
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?   
She is herself a dowry.   
  Bur.        Royal king,           240
Give but that portion which yourself propos’d,   
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,   
Duchess of Burgundy.   
  Lear.  Nothing. I have sworn; I am firm.           244
  Bur.  I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father   
That you must lose a husband.   
  Cor.        Peace be with Burgundy!   
Since that respect and fortunes are his love,           248
I shall not be his wife.   
  France.  Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor,   
Most choice forsaken, and most lov’d despis’d!   
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon,           252
Be it lawful I take up what’s cast away.   
Gods, gods! ’tis strange that from their cold’st neglect   
My love should kindle to inflam’d respect.   
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,           256
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.   
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy   
Can buy this unpriz’d precious maid of me.   
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind;           260
Thou losest here, a better where 26 to find.   
  Lear.  Thou hast her, France. Let her be thine; for we   
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see   
That face of hers again.—[To COR.] Therefore be gone           264
Without our grace, our love, our benison. 27—   
Come, noble Burgundy.  Flourish. Exeunt [all but FRANCE, GONERIL, REGAN, and CORDELIA].   
  France.  Bid farewell to your sisters.   
  Cor.  The jewels of our father, with wash’d eyes           268
Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are;   
And like a sister am most loath to call   
Your faults as they are named. Love well our father,   
To your professed 28 bosoms I commit him;           272
But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,   
I would prefer 29 him to a better place.   
So, farewell to you both.   
  Reg.  Prescribe not us our duty.           276
  Gon.        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 30 the want that you have wanted.           280
  Cor.  Time shall unfold what plighted 31 cunning hides;   
Who covers faults, at last shame them derides.   
Well may you prosper!   
  France.        Come, my fair Cordelia.  Exeunt [FRANCE and CORDELIA].           284
  Gon.  Sister, it is not 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 judgement he hath now cast her off appears too grossly. 32   
  Reg.  ’Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.           288
  Gon.  The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look from his age to receive not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition, 33 but therewithal the unruly waywardness 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 disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.   
  Reg.  We shall further think of it.           292
  Gon.  We must do something, and i’ the heat.  [Exeunt.]   
 
Note 1. Liked. [back]
Note 2. The values in each share are so balanced. [back]
Note 3. Portion. [back]
Note 4. Hardened. [back]
Note 5. Handsome. [back]
Note 6. Esteem. [back]
Note 7. Away, making a career. [back]
Note 8. A set of notes on a trumpet. [back]
Note 9. Where natural affection deservedly claims it. [back]
Note 10. Level country. [back]
Note 11. Sense in its perfection. [back]
Note 12. The quarto reading is, Although the last, not least in our dear love. [back]
Note 13. Attached. [back]
Note 14. Relationship. [back]
Note 15. The Scythians were said to eat their parents. [back]
Note 16. Nursing. [back]
Note 17. Titles. [back]
Note 18. Reverberate. [back]
Note 19. The white spot in a target. [back]
Note 20. Owns. [back]
Note 21. One does not choose [back]
Note 22. Subject. [back]
Note 23. Makes a monster of. [back]
Note 24. Statement. [back]
Note 25. Considerations. [back]
Note 26. Place. [back]
Note 27. Blessing. [back]
Note 28. Professing. [back]
Note 29. Advance. [back]
Note 30. Deserve. [back]
Note 31. Folded, disguised. [back]
Note 32. Obviously. [back]
Note 33. Long-confirmed disposition. [back]
 

Scene II
 
 
[The Earl of Gloucester’s castle]
Enter Bastard [EDMUND with a letter]

  Edm.  Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law   
My services are bound. Wherefore should I   
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit   
The curiosity 1 of nations to deprive me,           4
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines   
Lag of 2 a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base?   
When my dimensions are as well compact,   
My mind as generous, 3 and my shape as true,           8
As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us   
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?   
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take   
More composition 4 and fierce quality           12
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,   
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,   
Got ’tween asleep and wake? Well, then,   
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.           16
Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund   
As to the legitimate. Fine word, “legitimate”!   
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed   
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base           20
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper.   
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!   
 
Enter GLOUCESTER

  Glou.  Kent banish’d thus! and France in choler parted!   
And the King gone to-night! subscrib’d 5 his power!           24
Confin’d to exhibition! 6 All this done   
Upon the gad! 7 Edmund, how now! what news?   
  Edm.  So please your lordship, none.  [Putting up the letter.]   
  Glou.  Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?           28
  Edm.  I know no news, my lord.   
  Glou.  What paper were you reading?   
  Edm.  Nothing, my lord.   
  Glou.  No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch 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.           32
  Edm.  I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother, that I have not all o’er-read; and for so much as I have perus’d, I find it not fit for your o’er-looking.   
  Glou.  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.   
  Glou.  Let’s see, let’s see.           36
  Edm.  I hope, for my brother’s justification, he wrote this but as an essay 8 or taste of my virtue.   
  Glou. (Reads.)  “This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffer’d. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I wak’d him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother,
EDGAR.”

Hum—conspiracy!—“Sleep till I wake him, you should enjoy half 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.   
  Glou.  You know the character to be your brother’s?           40
  Edm.  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.   
  Glou.  It is his.   
  Edm.  It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in the contents.   
  Glou.  Has he never before sounded you in this business?           44
  Edm.  Never, my lord; but I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declin’d, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.   
  Glou.  O 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 should run a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour, 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 honour, and to no other pretence of danger.   
  Glou.  Think you so?           48
  Edm.  If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and that without any further delay than this very evening.   
  Glou.  He cannot be such a monster—   
  [Edm.  Nor is not, sure.   
  Glou.  To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him. Heaven and earth!] Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray you. Frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate 9 myself, to be in a due resolution. 10           52
  Edm.  I will seek him, sir, presently; 11 convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.   
  Glou.  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 scourg’d by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond crack’d ’twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there’s son against father; the King falls from bias of nature; 12 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 banish’d! his offence, honesty! ’Tis strange.  Exit.   
  Edm.  This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune,—often the surfeits 13 of our own behaviour,—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains on necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforc’d obedience of planetary influence, and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon’s tail; and my nativity was under Ursa Major; so that it follows, I am rough and lecherous. Fut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar—   
 
Enter EDGAR

and pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy. My cue is villanous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o’ Bedlam 14—O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.           56
  Edg.  How now, brother Edmund! what serious contemplation are you in?   
  Edm.  I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these 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, 15 banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches and I know not what.           60
  Edg.  How long have you been a sectary astronomical? 16   
  Edm.  Come, come;] when saw you my father last?   
  Edg.  [Why,] the night gone by.   
  Edm.  Spake you with him?           64
  Edg.  Ay, two hours together.   
  Edm.  Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word not countenance?   
  Edg.  None at all.   
  Edm.  Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him; and at my entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.           68
  Edg.  Some villain hath done me wrong.   
  Edm.  That’s my fear. I pray you, have a continent 17 forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray ye, go; there’s my key. If you do stir abroad, go arm’d.   
  Edg.  Arm’d, brother!   
  Edm.  Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed; I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I have seen and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it. Pray you, away.           72
  Edg.  Shall I hear from you anon?   
  Edm.  I do serve you in this business.  Exit EDGAR.   
A credulous father, and a brother noble,   
Whose nature is so far from doing harms           76
That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty   
My practices 18 ride easy. I see the business.   
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:   
All with me’s meet that I can fashion fit.  Exit.           80
 
Note 1. Fastidiousness. [back]
Note 2. Younger than. [back]
Note 3. A richer blending. [back]
Note 4. A richer blending. [back]
Note 5. Having signed away. [back]
Note 6. Spur of the moment. [back]
Note 7. Spur of the moment. [back]
Note 8. Trial. [back]
Note 9. Give up my rank. [back]
Note 10. Free from doubt. [back]
Note 11. At once. [back]
Note 12. Natural inclination. [back]
Note 13. Bad effects. [back]
Note 14. A crazy beggar. [back]
Note 15. Suspicions. [back]
Note 16. A believer in astrology. [back]
Note 17. Restrained. [back]
Note 18. Plots. [back]
 

Scene III
 
 
[The Duke of Albany’s palace]
Enter GONERIL, and [OSWALD, her] Steward

  Gon.  Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his Fool?   
  Osw.  Ay, madam.   
  Gon.  By day and night he wrongs me; every hour   
He flashes into one gross crime or other           4
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.           8
If you come slack of former services,   
You shall do well; the fault of it, I’ll answer.   
  Osw.  He’s coming, madam; I hear him.  [Horns within.]   
  Gon.  Put on what weary negligence you please,           12
You and your fellows; I’d have it come to question. 1   
If he distaste 2 it, let him to my sister,   
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,   
[Not to be over-rul’d. Idle old man,           16
That still would manage those authorities   
That he hath given away! Now, by my life,   
Old fools are babes again, and must be us’d   
With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus’d.]           20
Remember what I have said.   
  Osw.        Well, madam.   
  Gon.  And let his knights have colder looks among you;   
What grows of it, no matter. Advise your fellows so.           24
[I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall,   
That I may speak.] I’ll write straight to my sister,   
To hold my [very] course. Prepare for dinner.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Discussion. [back]
Note 2. Dislike. [back]

Scene IV
 
 
[A hall in the same]
Enter KENT [disguised]

  Kent.  If but as well I other accents borrow,   
That can my speech defuse, 1 my good intent   
May carry through itself to that full issue   
For which I raz’d my likeness. 2 Now, banish’d Kent,           4
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn’d,   
So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov’st,   
Shall find thee full of labours.   
 
Horns within. Enter LEAR, [Knights] and Attendants

  Lear.  Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. [Exit an attendant.] How now! what art thou?           8
  Kent.  A man, sir.   
  Lear.  What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?   
  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.   
  Lear.  What art thou?           12
  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?           16
  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?           20
  Kent.  Authority.   
  Lear.  What services canst thou do?   
  Kent.  I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious 3 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?           24
  Kent.  Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for anything. 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.  Exit an Attendant.   
 
Enter Steward [OSWALD]

You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?
  Osw.  So please you,—  Exit.   
  Lear.  What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll 4 back.  [Exit a knight.] Where’s my Fool, ho? I think the world’s asleep.           28
 
[Re-enter Knight]

How now! where’s that mongrel?   
  Knight.  He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.   
  Lear.  Why came not the slave back to me when I call’d him?   
  Knight.  Sir, he answered me in the roundest 5 manner, he would not.           32
  Lear.  He would not!   
  Knight.  My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my judgement, your Highness is not entertain’d with that ceremonious affection as you were wont. There’s a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general 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 wrong’d.           36
  Lear.  Thou but rememb’rest me of mine own conception. I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity 6 than as a very pretence 7 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. [Exit an Attendant.] Go you, call hither my Fool.  [Exit an Attendant.]   
 
Re-enter Steward [OSWALD]

O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?           40
  Osw.  My lady’s father.   
  Lear.  “My lady’s father”! My lord’s knave! You whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!   
  Osw.  I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.   
  Lear.  Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?  [Striking him.]           44
  Osw.  I’ll not be struck, my lord.   
  Kent.  Nor tripp’d neither, you base foot-ball player.  [Tripping up his heels.]   
  Lear.  I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv’st me, and I’ll love thee.   
  Kent.  Come, sir, arise, away! I’ll teach you differences. 8 Away, away! If you will measure your lubber’s length again, tarry; but away! go to. Have you wisdom? So.  [Pushes OSWALD out.]           48
  Lear.  Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There’s earnest of thy service.  [Giving KENT money.]   
 
Enter FOOL

  Fool.  Let me hire him too; here’s my coxcomb.  [Offering KENT his cap.]   
  Lear.  How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?   
  Fool.  Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.           52
  [Kent.  Why, Fool?]   
  Fool.  Why? For taking one’s part that’s out of favour. Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou’lt catch cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has banish’d two on ’s 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.           56
  Lear.  Take heed, sirrah; the whip.   
  Fool.  Truth’s a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp’d out, when Lady the brach 9 may stand by the fire and stink.   
  Lear.  A pestilent gall to me!   
  Fool.  Sirrah, I’ll teach thee a speech.           60
  Lear.  Do.   
  Fool.  Mark it, nuncle:
           “Have more than thou showest,
   Speak less than thou knowest,
   Lend less than thou owest,
   Ride more than thou goest, 10
   Learn more than thou trowest,
   Set less than thou throwest;
   Leave thy drink and thy whore,
   And keep in-a-door,
   And thou shalt have more
   Than two tens to a score.”
   
  Kent.  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?           64
  Lear.  Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.   
  Fool.  [To KENT.]  Prithee, tell him so much the rent of his land comes to. He will not believe a fool.   
  Lear.  A bitter fool!   
  Fool.  Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet one?           68
  Lear.  No, lad; teach me.   
  [Fool.
           “That lord that counsell’d thee
     To give away thy land,
   Come place him here by me,
     Do thou for him stand:
   The sweet and bitter fool
     Will presently appear;
   The one in motley here,
     The other found out there.”
   
  Lear.  Dost thou call me fool, boy?   
  Fool.  All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with.           72
  Kent.  This is not altogether fool, my lord.   
  Fool.  No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part on ’t. And ladies, too, they will not let me have all the fool to myself; they’ll be snatching.] Nuncle, give me an egg, and I’ll give thee two crowns.   
  Lear.  What two crowns shall they be?   
  Fool.  Why, after I have cut the egg i’ the middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i’ the middle, and gav’st away both parts, thou bor’st thine ass on thy back o’er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when thou gav’st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipp’d that first finds it so.
           “Fools had ne’er less grace in a year;
     For wise men are grown foppish,
   And know not how their wits to wear,
     Their manners are so apish.”
           76
  Lear.  When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?   
  Fool.  I have used it, nuncle, e’er since thou mad’st thy daughters thy mothers; for when thou gav’st them the rod, and puttest down thine own breeches,
           “Then they for sudden joy did weep,
     And I for sorrow sung,
   That such a king should play bo-peep,
     And go the fools among.”
Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy Fool to lie. I would fain learn to lie.   
  Lear.  An you lie, sirrah, we’ll have you whipp’d.   
  Fool.  I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They’ll have me whipp’d for speaking true, thou’lt have me whipp’d for lying; and sometimes I am whipp’d for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o’ thing than a Fool; and yet I would not be thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o’ both sides, and left nothing i’ the middle. Here comes one o’ the parings.           80
 
Enter GONERIL

  Lear.  How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet 11 on? [Methinks] you are too much of late i’ the frown.   
  Fool.  Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a figure. I am better than thou art now; I am a Fool, thou art nothing. [To GON.] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,
           “He that keeps nor crust nor crumb,
   Weary of all, shall want some.”
[Pointing to LEAR.] That’s a sheal’d 12 peascod.   
  Gon.  Not only, sir, this your all-licens’d Fool,   
But other of your insolent retinue           84
Do hourly carp 13 and quarrel, breaking forth   
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir,   
I had thought, by making this well known unto you,   
To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,           88
By what yourself, too, late have spoke and done,   
That you protect this course, and put it on 14   
By your allowance; which if you should, the fault   
Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,           92
Which, in the tender 15 of a wholesome weal,   
Might in their working do you that offence,   
Which else were shame, that then necessity   
Will call discreet proceeding.           96
  Fool.  For, you know, nuncle,
           “The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,   
That it had it head bit off by it young.”
So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. 16   
  Lear.  Are you our daughter?   
  Gon.  [Come, sir,]           100
I would you would make use of your good wisdom,   
Whereof I know you are fraught, 17 and put away   
These dispositions, which of late transport you   
From what you rightly are.           104
  Fool.  May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? “Whoop, Jug! I love thee.”   
  Lear.  Doth any here know me? This is not Lear.   
Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?   
Either his notion weakens, his discernings           108
Are lethargied—Ha! waking? ’Tis not so.   
Who is it that can tell me who I am?   
  Fool.  Lear’s shadow.   
  [Lear.  I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters.           112
  Fool.  Which they will make an obedient father.]   
  Lear.  Your name, fair gentlewoman?   
  Gon.  This admiration, 18 sir, is much o’ the savour   
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you           116
To understand my purposes aright.   
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.   
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;   
Men so disorder’d, so debosh’d 19 and bold,           120
That this our court, infected with their manners,   
Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism 20 and lust   
Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel   
Than a grac’d palace. The shame itself doth speak           124
For instant remedy. Be then desir’d   
By her, that else will take the thing she begs,   
A little to disquantity 21 your train;   
And the remainders, that shall still depend,           128
To be such men as may besort 22 your age,   
Which know themselves and you.   
  Lear.        Darkness and devils!   
Saddle my horses; call my train together!           132
Degenerate bastard! I’ll not trouble thee;   
Yet have I left a daughter.   
  Gon.  You strike my people; and your disorder’d rabble   
Make servants of their betters.           136
 
Enter ALBANY

  Lear.  Woe, that too late repents!—[O, sir, are you come?]   
Is it your will? Speak, sir.—Prepare my horses.—   
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,   
More hideous when thou show’st thee in a child           140
Than the sea-monster!   
  Alb.        Pray, sir, be patient.   
  Lear.  [To GON.]  Detested kite! thou liest.   
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,           144
That all particulars of duty know,   
And in the most exact regard support   
The worships 23 of their name. O most small fault,   
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!           148
Which, like an engine, 24 wrench’d my frame of nature   
From the fix’d place; drew from my heart all love,   
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!   
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,  [Striking his head.]           152
And thy dear judgement out! Go, go, my people.   
  Alb.  My lord, I am guiltless as I am ignorant   
Of what hath moved you.   
  Lear.        It may be so, my lord.           156
Hear, Nature! hear, dear goddess, hear!   
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend   
To make this creature fruitful!   
Into her womb convey sterility!           160
Dry up in her the organs of increase,   
And from her derogate 25 body never spring   
A babe to honour her! If she must teem, 26   
Create her child of spleen, that it may live           164
And be a thwart 27 disnatur’d torment to her!   
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,   
With cadent 28 tears fret channels in her cheeks,   
Turn all her mother’s pains and benefits           168
To laughter and contempt, that she may feel   
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is   
To have a thankless child!—Away, away!  Exit.   
  Alb.  Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?           172
  Gon.  Never afflict yourself to know more of it;   
But let his disposition have that scope   
As dotage gives it.   
 
Re-enter LEAR

  Lear.  What, fifty of my followers at a clap!           176
Within a fortnight!   
  Alb.        What’s the matter, sir?   
  Lear.  I’ll tell thee. [To GON.] Life and death! I am asham’d   
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;           180
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,   
Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!   
The untented 29 woundings of a father’s curse   
Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond 30 eyes,           184
Beweep this cause again, I’ll pluck ye out,   
And cast you, with the waters that you loose,   
To temper clay. Ha! [is it come to this?]   
Let it be so: I have another daughter,           188
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           192
I have cast off for ever. [Thou shalt, I warrant thee.]  [Exeunt LEAR, KENT, and Attendants.]   
  Gon.  Do you mark that?   
  Alb.  I cannot be so partial, Goneril,   
To the great love I bear you,—           196
  Gon.  Pray you, content.—What, Oswald, ho!   
[To the Fool.] 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.   
  Gon.  This man hath had good counsel,—a hundred knights!           200
’Tis politic and safe to let him keep   
At point 31 a hundred knights; yes, that, on every dream,   
Each buzz, 32 each fancy, each complaint, dislike,   
He may enguard his dotage with their powers,           204
And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!   
  Alb.  Well, you may fear too far.   
  Gon.        Safer than trust too far.   
Let me still take away the harms I fear,           208
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart.   
What he hath utter’d I have writ my sister.   
If she sustain him and his hundred knights,   
When I have show’d the unfitness,—           212
 
Re-enter Steward [OSWALD]




How now, Oswald!   
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?   
  Osw.  Ay, madam.   
  Gon.  Take you some company, and away to horse.           216
Inform her full of my particular fear;   
And thereto add such reasons of your own   
As may compact 33 it more. Get you gone;   
And hasten your return.  [Exit OSWALD.] No, no, my lord,           220
This milky gentleness and course of yours   
Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,   
You are much more at task 34 for want of wisdom   
Than prais’d for harmful mildness.           224
  Alb.  How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.   
Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.   
  Gon.  Nay, then—   
  Alb.  Well, well; the event.  Exeunt.           228
 
Note 1. Confuse, disguise. [back]
Note 2. Changed my appearance. [back]
Note 3. Elaborate. [back]
Note 4. Blockhead. [back]
Note 5. Bluntest. [back]
Note 6. Punctiliousness. [back]
Note 7. Real plan. [back]
Note 8. I. e. of rank. [back]
Note 9. Hound. [back]
Note 10. Walkest. [back]
Note 11. The scowl on her brow. [back]
Note 12. Empty. [back]
Note 13. Find fault. [back]
Note 14. Encourage it. [back]
Note 15. Regard, care. [back]
Note 16. In the dark. [back]
Note 17. Endowed. [back]
Note 18. Pretended wonder. [back]
Note 19. Debauched. [back]
Note 20. Gluttony. [back]
Note 21. Reduce. [back]
Note 22. Suit. [back]
Note 23. Honor. [back]
Note 24. Rack. [back]
Note 25. Degraded. [back]
Note 26. Have children. [back]
Note 27. Twisted in disposition. [back]
Note 28. Falling. [back]
Note 29. Too deep to be probed. [back]
Note 30. Foolish. [back]
Note 31. Fully armed. [back]
Note 32. Idle rumor. [back]
Note 33. Confirm. [back]
Note 34. To be blamed. [back]

Scene V
 
 
[Court before the same]
Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool

  Lear.  Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. 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? 1   
  Lear.  Ay, boy.           4
  Fool.  Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall not go slip-shod.   
  Lear.  Ha, ha, ha!   
  Fool.  Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; 2 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?           8
  Fool.  She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one’s nose stands i’ the 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, he may spy into.   
  Lear.  I did her wrong—           12
  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?           16
  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?           20
  Fool.  Yes, indeed. Thou wouldst make a good Fool.   
  Lear.  To take ’t again perforce! 3 Monster ingratitude!   
  Fool.  If thou wert my Fool, nuncle, I’d have thee beaten for being old before thy time.   
  Lear.  How’s that?           24
  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 Gentleman]

How now! are the horses ready?           28
  Gent.  Ready, my lord.   
  Lear.  Come, boy.   
  Fool.  She that’s a maid now, and laughs at my departure, Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.  Exeunt.   
 
Note 1. Chilblains. [back]
Note 2. A pun: with kindness, and after her kind. [back]
Note 3. Probably Lear is thinking of regaining his power. [back]
 

Act II

Scene I
 
 
[The Earl of Gloucester’s castle]
Enter Bastard [EDMUND] and CURAN, severally

  Edm.  Save thee, Curan.   
  Cur.  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.   
  Edm.  How comes that?   
  Cur.  Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad; I mean the whisper’d ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments? 1           4
  Edm.  Not I. Pray you, what are they?   
  Cur.  Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 2 ’twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?   
  Edm.  Not a word.   
  Cur.  You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir.  Exit.           8
  Edm.  The Duke be here to-night? The better! best!   
This weaves itself perforce into my business.   
My father hath set guard to take my brother;   
And I have one thing, of a queasy question, 3           12
Which I must act. Briefness 4 and fortune, work!   
 
Enter EDGAR

Brother, a word; descend. Brother, I say!   
My father watches; O sir, fly this place;   
Intelligence is given where you are hid;           16
You have now the good advantage of the night.   
Have you not spoken ’gainst the Duke of Cornwall?   
He’s coming hither, now, i’ the night, i’ the haste,   
And Regan with him. Have you nothing said           20
Upon his party ’gainst the Duke of Albany?   
Advise yourself. 5   
  Edg.        I am sure on ’t, not a word.   
  Edm.  I hear my father coming. Pardon me,           24
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you.   
Draw; seem to defend yourself; now quit you well.   
Yield! Come before my father. Light, ho, here!—   
Fly, brother.—Torches, torches!—So, farewell.  Exit EDGAR.           28
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion  [Wounds his arm.]   
Of my more fierce endeavour. I have seen drunkards   
Do more than this in sport.—Father, father!—   
Stop, stop!—No help?           32
 
Enter GLOUCESTER, and Servants with torches

  Glou.  Now, Edmund, where’s the villain?   
  Edm.  Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,   
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon   
To stand auspicious mistress,—           36
  Glou.        But where is he?   
  Edm.  Look, sir, I bleed.   
  Glou.        Where is the villain, Edmund?   
  Edm.  Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could—           40
  Glou.  Pursue him, ho! Go after. [Exeunt some Servants.] By no means what?   
  Edm.  Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;   
But that I told him, the revenging gods   
’Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend;           44
Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond   
The child was bound to the father; sir, in fine,   
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood   
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, 6           48
With his prepared sword, he charges home   
My unprovided body, latch’d 7 mine arm;   
And when he saw my best alarum’d spirits,   
Bold in the quarrel’s right, rous’d to the encounter,           52
Or whether gasted 8 by the noise I made,   
Full suddenly he fled.   
  Glou.        Let him fly far.   
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;           56
And found,—dispatch. The noble Duke my master,   
My worthy arch 9 and patron, comes to-night.   
By his authority I will proclaim it,   
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,           60
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;   
He that conceals him, death.   
  Edm.  When I dissuaded him from his intent,   
And found him pight 10 to do it, with curst speech           64
I threaten’d to discover 11 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           68
Make thy words faith’d? 12 No! what I should deny,—   
As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce   
My very character, 13—I’d turn it all   
To thy suggestion, 14 plot, and damned practice;           72
And thou must make a dullard of the world 15   
If they not thought the profits of my death   
Were very pregnant and potential spurs 16   
To make thee seek it.”           76
  Glou.        O strange and fast’ned 17 villain!   
Would he deny his letter? [I never got him.]  Tucket within.   
Hark, the Duke’s trumpets! I know not why he comes.   
All ports I’ll bar, the villain shall not scape;           80
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           84
To make thee capable. 18   
 
Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Attendants

  Corn.  How now, my noble friend! since I came hither,   
Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news.   
  Reg.  If it be true, all vengeance comes too short           88
Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord?   
  Glou.  O, madam, my old heart is crack’d, it’s crack’d!   
  Reg.  What, did my father’s godson seek your life?   
He whom my father nam’d? your Edgar?           92
  Glou.  O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!   
  Reg.  Was he not companion with the riotous knights   
That tended upon my father?   
  Glou.  I know not, madam. ’Tis too bad, too bad.           96
  Edm.  Yes, madam, he was of that consort. 19   
  Reg.  No marvel, then, though he were ill affected: 20   
’Tis they have put him on the old man’s death,   
To have the expense and waste of his revenues.           100
I have this present evening from my sister   
Been well inform’d of them; and with such cautions,   
That if they come to sojourn at my house,   
I’ll not be there.           104
  Corn.        Nor I, assure thee, Regan.   
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father   
A child-like office.   
  Edm.        ’Twas my duty, sir.           108
  Glou.  He did bewray his practice, 21 and receiv’d   
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.   
  Corn.  Is he pursued?   
  Glou.        Ay, my good lord.           112
  Corn.  If he be taken, he shall never more   
Be fear’d of doing harm. Make your own purpose,   
How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,   
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant           116
So much commend itself, you shall be ours.   
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;   
You we first seize on.   
  Edm.        I shall serve you, sir,           120
Truly, however else.   
  Glou.        For him I thank your Grace.   
  Corn.  You know not why we came to visit you,—   
  Reg.  Thus out of season, threading dark-ey’d night?           124
Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, 22   
Wherein we must have use of your advice.   
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,   
Of differences, which I best thought it fit           128
To answer from 23 our home; the several messengers   
From hence attend dispatch. 24 Our good old friend,   
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow   
Your needful counsel to our businesses,           132
Which craves the instant use.   
  Glou.        I serve you, madam.   
Your Graces are right welcome.  Exeunt. Flourish.   
 
Note 1. Subjects of discussion. [back]
Note 2. Coming on. [back]
Note 3. Requiring delicate handling. [back]
Note 4. Speed. [back]
Note 5. Reflect. [back]
Note 6. With a formidable thrust. [back]
Note 7. Caught, hit. [back]
Note 8. Frightened. [back]
Note 9. Chief. [back]
Note 10. Resolved. [back]
Note 11. Reveal. [back]
Note 12. Believed. [back]
Note 13. Handwriting. [back]
Note 14. Tempting. [back]
Note 15. Suppose the world to be very stupid. [back]
Note 16. Obvious and potent inducements. [back]
Note 17. Confirmed. [back]
Note 18. Able to inherit. [back]
Note 19. Band. [back]
Note 20. Disloyal. [back]
Note 21. Reveal his plot. [back]
Note 22. Weight. [back]
Note 23. Away from. [back]
Note 24. Wait to be sent off. [back]