ACT 1
Scene 2

...my bastardizing. Edgar—
Enter Edgar.

...sol, la, mi.
How now, brother Edmund, what serious contemplation
are you in?

...follow these eclipses.
Do you busy yourself with that?

...know not what.
How long have you been a sectary
astronomical?

...my father last?
The night gone by.

...you with him?
Ay, two hours together.

...word nor countenance?
None at all.

...would scarcely allay.
Some villain hath done me wrong.

...abroad, go armed.
Armed, brother?

...Pray you, away.
Shall I hear from you anon?

...in this business.
Edgar exits.

ACT 2
Scene 1

...Brother, I say!
Enter Edgar.

...Albany? Advise yourself.
I am sure on ’t, not a word.

...you well.
They draw.

... —So, farewell.
Edgar exits.

Scene 3

... wheel. Sleeps.
Enter Edgar.
I heard myself proclaimed,
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place
That guard and most unusual vigilance
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may ’scape,
I will preserve myself, and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury in contempt of man
Brought near to beast. My face I’ll grime with filth,
Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots,
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars who with roaring voices
Strike in their numbed and mortifièd arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary,
And, with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity. “Poor Turlygod! Poor Tom!”
That’s something yet. “Edgar” I nothing am.
He exits.

ACT 3
Scene 4

...heavens more just.
within
Fathom and half, fathom and half!
Poor Tom!

...straw? Come forth.
Enter Edgar in disguise.
Away. The foul fiend follows me. Through the
sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Hum! Go to
thy cold bed and warm thee.

...come to this?
Who gives anything to Poor Tom, whom the
foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame,
through ford and whirlpool, o’er bog and quagmire;
that hath laid knives under his pillow and
halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge,
made him proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting
horse over four-inched bridges to course his own
shadow for a traitor? Bless thy five wits! Tom’s
a-cold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from
whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do Poor Tom
some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There
could I have him now, and there—and there again
—and there.

...Those pelican daughters.
Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill. Alow, alow, loo,
loo.

...fools and madmen.
Take heed o’ th’ foul fiend. Obey thy parents,
keep thy word’s justice, swear not, commit not with
man’s sworn spouse, set not thy sweet heart on
proud array. Tom’s a-cold.

...hast thou been?
A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that
curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap, served the
lust of my mistress’ heart and did the act of
darkness with her, swore as many oaths as I spake
words and broke them in the sweet face of heaven;
one that slept in the contriving of lust and waked to
do it. Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly, and in
woman out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart,
light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in
stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in
prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling
of silks betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy
foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy
pen from lenders’ books, and defy the foul fiend.
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind;
says suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa!
Let him trot by.

...a walking fire.
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins
at curfew and walks till the first cock. He
gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and
makes the harelip, mildews the white wheat, and
hurts the poor creature of earth.

Swithold footed thrice the ’old,

He met the nightmare and her ninefold,

Bid her alight,

And her troth plight,

And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee.

...there? Your names?
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the
toad, the tadpole, the wall newt, and the water;
that, in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend
rages, eats cow dung for sallets, swallows the old
rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of
the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to
tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned;
who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to
his body,
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear;
But mice and rats and such small deer
Have been Tom’s food for seven long year.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin! Peace, thou
fiend!

...no better company?
The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman. Modo
he’s called, and Mahu.

...what gets it.
Poor Tom’s a-cold.

...is your study?
How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin.

...word in private.
They talk aside.

...philosopher, your company.
Tom’s a-cold.

...no words. Hush.
Child Rowland to the dark tower came.
His word was still “Fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.”
They exit.

Scene 6

...reward your kindness!
Enter Lear, Edgar in disguise, and Fool.
Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an
angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and
beware the foul fiend.

...in upon ’em!
The foul fiend bites my back.

...you she-foxes—
Look where he stands and glares!—Want’st
thou eyes at trial, madam? Sings.
Come o’er the burn, Bessy, to me—

...over to thee.
The foul fiend haunts Poor Tom in the voice of
a nightingale. Hoppedance cries in Tom’s belly for
two white herring.—Croak not, black angel. I have
no food for thee.

...Sit you, too.
Let us deal justly. Sings.

Sleepest or wakest, thou jolly shepherd?

Thy sheep be in the corn.

And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,

Thy sheep shall take no harm.
Purr the cat is gray.

...let her ’scape?
Bless thy five wits!

...boasted to retain?
aside
My tears begin to take his part so much
They mar my counterfeiting.

...bark at me.
Tom will throw his head at them.—Avaunt, you
curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite,
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, brach, or lym,
Bobtail tike, or trundle-tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail;
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled.
Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes
and fairs and market towns. Poor Tom, thy horn
is dry.

...Come, come away.
When we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Who alone suffers suffers most i’ th’ mind,
Leaving free things and happy shows behind.
But then the mind much sufferance doth o’erskip
When grief hath mates and bearing fellowship.
How light and portable my pain seems now
When that which makes me bend makes the King bow!
He childed as I fathered. Tom, away.
Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray
When false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defile thee,
In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee.
What will hap more tonight, safe ’scape the King!
Lurk, lurk.
He exits.

ACT 4
Scene 1

...heaven help him!
Enter Edgar in disguise.
Yet better thus, and known to be contemned,
Than still contemned and flattered. To be worst,
The lowest and most dejected thing of Fortune,
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear.
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,
Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace.
The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst
Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here?

Enter Gloucester and an old man.
My father, poorly led? World, world, O world,
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yield to age.

...now? Who’s there?
aside
O gods, who is ’t can say “I am at the worst”?
I am worse than e’er I was.

...poor mad Tom.
aside
And worse I may be yet. The worst is not
So long as we can say “This is the worst.”

...for their sport.
aside
How should this be?
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
Ang’ring itself and others.—Bless thee, master.

...Sirrah, naked fellow—
Poor Tom’s a-cold. Aside.
I cannot daub it further.

...Come hither, fellow.
aside
And yet I must.—Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

...way to Dover?
Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath.
Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits.
Bless thee, good man’s son, from the foul fiend.
Five fiends have been in Poor Tom at once: of lust,
as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness;
Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet,
of mopping and mowing, who since possesses
chambermaids and waiting women. So, bless
thee, master.
GLOUCESTER, giving him money

...thou know Dover?
Ay, master.

...no leading need.
Give me thy arm.
Poor Tom shall lead thee.
They exit.

Scene 6

...Fare thee well.
Enter Gloucester and Edgar dressed as a peasant.

...that same hill?
You do climb up it now. Look how we labor.

...ground is even.
Horrible steep.
Hark, do you hear the sea?

... No, truly.
Why then, your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes’ anguish.

...than thou didst.
You’re much deceived; in nothing am I changed
But in my garments.

...you’re better spoken.
Come on, sir. Here’s the place. Stand still. How fearful
And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low!
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
Show scarce so gross as beetles. Halfway down
Hangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade;
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen that walk upon the beach
Appear like mice, and yond tall anchoring bark
Diminished to her cock, her cock a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge
That on th’ unnumbered idle pebble chafes
Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more
Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

...where you stand.
Give me your hand. You are now within a foot
Of th’ extreme verge. For all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.

...it with thee.
He gives Edgar a purse.

...hear thee going.
walking away
Now fare you well, good sir.

...all my heart.
aside
Why I do trifle thus with his despair
Is done to cure it.

...thee well.He falls.
Gone, sir. Farewell.—
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself
Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,
By this had thought been past. Alive or dead?—
Ho you, sir! Friend, hear you. Sir, speak.—
Thus might he pass indeed. Yet he revives.—
What are you, sir?

...let me die.
Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou ’dst shivered like an egg; but thou dost breathe,
Hast heavy substance, bleed’st not, speak’st, art sound.
Ten masts at each make not the altitude
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell.
Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again.

...fall’n or no?
From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
Look up a-height. The shrill-gorged lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up.

...his proud will.
Give me your arm. He raises Gloucester.
Up. So, how is ’t? Feel you your legs? You stand.

...well, too well.
This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o’ th’ cliff, what thing was that
Which parted from you?

...poor unfortunate beggar.
As I stood here below, methought his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
Horns whelked and waved like the enragèd sea.
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think that the clearest gods, who make them honors
Of men’s impossibilities, have preserved thee.

...to that place.
Bear free and patient thoughts.

Enter Lear.
But who comes here?
The safer sense will ne’er accommodate
His master thus.

...the King himself.
O, thou side-piercing sight!

...Give the word.
Sweet marjoram.

...could not see.
aside
I would not take this from report. It is,
And my heart breaks at it.

...Harder, harder. So.
aside
O, matter and impertinency mixed,
Reason in madness!

...brought her to.
Hail, gentle sir.

...What’s your will?
Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?

...can distinguish sound.
But, by your favor,
How near’s the other army?

...the hourly thought.
I thank you, sir. That’s all.

...is moved on.
I thank you, sir.

...before you please.
Well pray you, father.

...what are you?
A most poor man, made tame to Fortune’s blows,
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand;
I’ll lead you to some biding.
He takes Gloucester’s hand.

...enough to ’t.
Edgar steps between Gloucester and Oswald.

...go his arm.
Chill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion.

...or thou diest!
Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor
volk pass. An ’chud ha’ bin zwaggered out of my
life, ’twould not ha’ bin zo long as ’tis by a vortnight.
Nay, come not near th’ old man. Keep out,
che vor’ ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my
ballow be the harder. Chill be plain with you.

... Out, dunghill.
Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come, no matter vor
your foins.
They fight.

...Death! He dies.
I know thee well, a serviceable villain,
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire.

...is he dead?
Sit you down, father; rest you.
Let’s see these pockets. The letters that he speaks of
May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorry
He had no other deathsman. Let us see. He opens a letter.
Leave, gentle wax, and, manners, blame us not.
To know our enemies’ minds, we rip their hearts.
Their papers is more lawful.Reads the letter.
Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have
many opportunities to cut him off. If your will want
not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is
nothing done if he return the conqueror. Then am I
the prisoner, and his bed my jail, from the loathed
warmth whereof deliver me and supply the place for
your labor.
Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant,
and, for you, her own for venture,Goneril.
O indistinguished space of woman’s will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life,
And the exchange my brother.—Here, in the sands
Thee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practiced duke. For him ’tis well
That of thy death and business I can tell.

...themselves.Drum afar off.
Give me your hand.
Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend.
They exit.

ACT 5
Scene 1

...begin to exit.
Enter Edgar dressed as a peasant.
to Albany
If e’er your Grace had speech with man so poor,
Hear me one word.

...I’ll overtake you.—Speak.
giving him a paper
Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
For him that brought it. Wretched though I seem,
I can produce a champion that will prove
What is avouchèd there. If you miscarry,
Your business of the world hath so an end,
And machination ceases. Fortune love you.

...read the letter.
I was forbid it.
When time shall serve, let but the herald cry
And I’ll appear again.
He exits.

Scene 2

...not to debate.
Enter Edgar and Gloucester.
Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
For your good host. Pray that the right may thrive.
If ever I return to you again,
I’ll bring you comfort.

...with you, sir.
Edgar exits.

...and Retreat within.
Enter Edgar.
Away, old man. Give me thy hand. Away.
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta’en.
Give me thy hand. Come on.

...rot even here.
What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
Their going hence even as their coming hither.
Ripeness is all. Come on.

...that’s true too.
They exit.

Scene 3

...Trumpet answers within.
Enter Edgar armed.

...This present summons?
Know my name is lost,
By treason’s tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit.
Yet am I noble as the adversary
I come to cope.

...is that adversary?
What’s he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?

...thou to him?
Draw thy sword,
That if my speech offend a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine. He draws his sword.
Behold, it is my privilege, the privilege of mine honors,
My oath, and my profession. I protest,
Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,
Despite thy victor-sword and fire-new fortune,
Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a traitor,
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father,
Conspirant ’gainst this high illustrious prince,
And from th’ extremest upward of thy head
To the descent and dust below thy foot,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou “no,”
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest.

...forever. Trumpets, speak!
He draws his sword. Alarums. Fights.

...do forgive thee.
Let’s exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more th’ hast wronged me.
My name is Edgar and thy father’s son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us.
The dark and vicious place where thee he got
Cost him his eyes.

...or thy father!
Worthy prince, I know ’t.

...of your father?
By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale,
And when ’tis told, O, that my heart would burst!
The bloody proclamation to escape
That followed me so near—O, our lives’ sweetness,
That we the pain of death would hourly die
Rather than die at once!—taught me to shift
Into a madman’s rags, t’ assume a semblance
That very dogs disdained, and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair.
Never—O fault!—revealed myself unto him
Until some half hour past, when I was armed.
Not sure, though hoping of this good success,
I asked his blessing, and from first to last
Told him our pilgrimage. But his flawed heart
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support)
’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.

...Hearing of this.
This would have seemed a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more
And top extremity. Whilst I
Was big in clamor, came there in a man
Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
Shunned my abhorred society; but then, finding
Who ’twas that so endured, with his strong arms
He fastened on my neck and bellowed out
As he’d burst heaven, threw him on my father,
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him
That ever ear received, which, in recounting,
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded,
And there I left him tranced.

...who was this?
Kent, sir, the banished Kent, who in disguise
Followed his enemy king and did him service
Improper for a slave.

...help, O, help!
What kind of help?

... Speak, man!
What means this bloody knife?

...in an instant.
Here comes Kent.

...run, O, run!
To who, my lord? To Edmund.
Who has the office? Send
Thy token of reprieve.

...the Captain.
to a Soldier
Haste thee for thy life.

...the promised end?
Or image of that horror?

... Prithee, away.
’Tis noble Kent, your friend.

...us to him.
Very bootless.

...look there!He dies.
He faints. To Lear.
My lord, my lord!

...I prithee, break!
Look up, my lord.

...him out longer.
He is gone indeed.

...not say no.
The weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most; we that are young
Shall never see so much nor live so long.
They exit with a dead march.