ACT 1
Scene 1
Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund.
...Albany than Cornwall.
It did always seem so to us, but now in
the division of the kingdom, it appears not which
of the dukes he values most, for equalities are so
weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice
of either’s moiety.
...son, my lord?
His breeding, sir, hath been at my
charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge
him that now I am brazed to ’t.
...cannot conceive you.
Sir, this young fellow’s mother could,
whereupon she grew round-wombed and had indeed,
sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband
for her bed. Do you smell a fault?
...being so proper.
But I have a son, sir, by order of law,
some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in
my account. Though this knave came something
saucily to 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?
...No, my lord.
My lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter
as my honorable friend.
...shall study deserving.
He hath been out nine years, and away he
shall again.
(Sennet.)
The King is coming.
...Burgundy, Gloucester.
I shall, my lord.
He exits.
...a country new.
Flourish. Enter Gloucester with France, and Burgundy, and Attendants.
Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
...Come, noble Burgundy.
Flourish. All but France, Cordelia, Goneril, and Regan exit.
Scene 2
...up for bastards!
Enter Gloucester.
Kent banished thus? And France in choler parted?
And the King gone tonight, prescribed his power,
Confined to exhibition? All this done
Upon the gad?—Edmund, how now? What news?
...in his pocket.
Why so earnestly seek you to put up that
letter?
...news, my lord.
What paper were you reading?
...Nothing, my lord.
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.
...for your o’erlooking.
Give me the letter, sir.
...are to blame.
Let’s see, let’s see.
Edmund gives him the paper.
...of my virtue.
(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 suffered. Come to me, that of this I
may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked
him, you should enjoy half his revenue forever 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 you to this? Who brought it?
...of my closet.
You know the character to be your
brother’s?
...it were not.
It is his.
...in the contents.
Has he never before sounded you in this
business?
...manage his revenue.
O villain, villain! His very opinion in the
letter. Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish
villain! Worse than brutish!—Go, sirrah, seek
him. I’ll apprehend him.—Abominable villain!—
Where is he?
...pretense of danger.
Think you so?
...this very evening.
He cannot be such a monster.
...is not, sure.
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
myself to be in a due resolution.
...acquaint you withal.
These late eclipses in the sun and moon
portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of
nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds
itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools,
friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies;
in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and
the bond cracked ’twixt son and father. This villain
of mine comes under the prediction: there’s son
against father. The King falls from bias of nature:
there’s father against child. We have seen the best of
our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and
all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our
graves.—Find out this villain, Edmund. It shall
lose thee nothing. Do it carefully.—And the noble
and true-hearted Kent banished! His offense, honesty!
’Tis strange.
He exits.
ACT 2
Scene 1
...stop! No help?
Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.
Now, Edmund, where’s the villain?
...stand auspicious mistress.
But where is he?
...sir, I bleed.
Where is the villain, Edmund?
...means he could—
Pursue him, ho! Go after. By no means what?
...suddenly he fled.
Let him fly far!
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught,
And found—dispatch. The noble duke my master,
My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight.
By his authority I will proclaim it
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
He that conceals him, death.
...thee seek it.”
O strange and fastened villain!
Would he deny his letter, said he?
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.
The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him. And of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I’ll work the means
To make thee capable.
...my lord?
O madam, my old heart is cracked; it’s cracked.
...named, your Edgar?
O lady, lady, shame would have it hid!
...upon my father?
I know not, madam. ’Tis too bad, too bad.
...my duty, sir.
He did bewray his practice, and received
This hurt you see striving to apprehend him.
...Is he pursued?
Ay, my good lord.
...Truly, however else.
For him I thank your Grace.
...the instant use.
I serve you, madam.
Your Graces are right welcome.
Flourish. They exit.
Scene 2
...ho! Murder, murder!
Enter Bastard Edmund, with his rapier drawn, Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.
...on, young master.
Weapons? Arms? What’s the matter here?
...mad, old fellow?
How fell you out? Say that.
...Stocks brought out.
Let me beseech your Grace not to do so.
His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for ’t. Your purposed low correction
Is such as basest and contemned’st wretches
For pilf’rings and most common trespasses
Are punished with. The King must take it ill
That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrained.
...good lord, away.
I am sorry for thee, friend. ’Tis the Duke’s pleasure,
Whose disposition all the world well knows
Will not be rubbed nor stopped. I’ll entreat for thee.
...you good morrow.
The Duke’s to blame in this. ’Twill be ill taken.
He exits.
Scene 4
...th’ stocks, fool.
Enter Lear and Gloucester.
...a better answer.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
How unremovable and fixed he is
In his own course.
...and his wife.
Well, my good lord, I have informed them so.
... man?
Ay, my good lord.
...sleep to death.
I would have all well betwixt you.
He exits.
...buttered his hay.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.
...shall go mad!
Lear, Kent, and Fool exit with Gloucester and the Gentleman.
...old man forth.
Enter Gloucester.
...He is returned.
The King is in high rage.
...is he going?
He calls to horse, but will I know not whither.
...means to stay.
Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds
Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about
There’s scarce a bush.
...o’ th’ storm.
They exit.
ACT 3
Scene 3
...before his time.
Enter Gloucester and Edmund.
Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this
unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I
might pity him, they took from me the use of mine
own house, charged me on pain of perpetual
displeasure neither to speak of him, entreat for
him, or any way sustain him.
...savage and unnatural.
Go to; say you nothing. There is division
between the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I
have received a letter this night; ’tis dangerous to
be spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet.
These injuries the King now bears will be revenged
home; there is part of a power already footed. We
must incline to the King. I will look him and privily
relieve him. Go you and maintain talk with the
Duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he
ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for it, as
no less is threatened me, the King my old master
must be relieved. There is strange things toward,
Edmund. Pray you, be careful.
He exits.
Scene 4
...’s body cold.
Enter Gloucester, with a torch.
...’t you seek?
What are you there? Your names?
...Peace, thou fiend!
to Lear
What, hath your Grace no better company?
...called, and Mahu.
to Lear
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile
That it doth hate what gets it.
...Poor Tom’s a-cold.
to Lear
Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer
T’ obey in all your daughters’ hard commands.
Though their injunction be to bar my doors
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
Yet have I ventured to come seek you out
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
...begin t’ unsettle.
Canst thou blame him?
Storm still.
His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent!
He said it would be thus, poor banished man.
Thou sayest the King grows mad; I’ll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself. I had a son,
Now outlawed from my blood. He sought my life
But lately, very late. I loved him, friend,
No father his son dearer. True to tell thee,
The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night’s this!
—I do beseech your Grace—
...company. Tom’s a-cold.
to Edgar
In fellow, there, into th’ hovel. Keep thee warm.
...take the fellow.
to Kent
Take him you on.
...Come, good Athenian.
No words, no words. Hush.
...a British man.”
They exit.
Scene 6
...in my love.
Enter Kent in disguise, and Gloucester.
Here is better than the open air. Take it
thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what
addition I can. I will not be long from you.
...reward your kindness!
Gloucester exits.
...bed at noon.
Enter Gloucester.
to Kent
Come hither, friend. Where is the King my master?
...wits are gone.
Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms.
I have o’erheard a plot of death upon him.
There is a litter ready; lay him in ’t,
And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.
If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life,
With thine and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assurèd loss. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct.
...not stay behind.
Come, come away.
All but Edgar exit, carrying Lear.
Scene 7
...but not control.
Enter Gloucester and Servants.
...his corky arms.
What means your Graces? Good my friends, consider
You are my guests; do me no foul play, friends.
...O filthy traitor!
Unmerciful lady as you are, I’m none.
...chair bind him.
Servants bind Gloucester.
...thou shalt find—
Regan plucks Gloucester’s beard.
By the kind gods, ’tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the beard.
...such a traitor?
Naughty lady,
These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin
Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your host;
With robber’s hands my hospitable favors
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
...lunatic king. Speak.
I have a letter guessingly set down
Which came from one that’s of a neutral heart,
And not from one opposed.
...sent the King?
To Dover.
...him answer that.
I am tied to th’ stake, and I must stand the course.
...Wherefore to Dover?
Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up
And quenched the stellèd fires;
Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howled that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said “Good porter, turn the key.”
All cruels else subscribe. But I shall see
The wingèd vengeance overtake such children.
...set my foot.
He that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help! As Servants hold the chair, Cornwall forces out one of Gloucester’s eyes.
O cruel! O you gods!
...Out, vile jelly!
Forcing out Gloucester’s other eye.
...thy luster now?
All dark and comfortless! Where’s my son Edmund?—
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature
To quit this horrid act.
...to pity thee.
O my follies! Then Edgar was abused.
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him.
...way to Dover.
Some Servants exit with Gloucester.
ACT 4
Scene 1
...who comes here?
Enter Gloucester and an old man.
...these fourscore years.
Away, get thee away. Good friend, begone.
Thy comforts can do me no good at all;
Thee they may hurt.
...see your way.
I have no way and therefore want no eyes.
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft ’tis seen
Our means secure us, and our mere defects
Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abusèd father’s wrath,
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
I’d say I had eyes again.
...Fellow, where goest?
Is it a beggar-man?
...and beggar too.
He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I’ th’ last night’s storm, I such a fellow saw,
Which made me think a man a worm. My son
Came then into my mind, and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more since.
As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods;
They kill us for their sport.
...others.—Bless thee, master.
Is that the naked fellow?
...Ay, my lord.
Then, prithee, get thee away. If for my sake
Thou wilt o’ertake us hence a mile or twain
I’ th’ way toward Dover, do it for ancient love,
And bring some covering for this naked soul,
Which I’ll entreat to lead me.
...he is mad.
’Tis the time’s plague when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure.
Above the rest, begone.
...’t what will.
Sirrah, naked fellow—
...daub it further.
Come hither, fellow.
...eyes, they bleed.
Know’st thou the way to Dover?
...bless thee, master.
giving him money
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens’ plagues
Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched
Makes thee the happier. Heavens, deal so still:
Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly.
So distribution should undo excess
And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?
... Ay, master.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in the confinèd deep.
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I’ll repair the misery thou dost bear
With something rich about me. From that place
I shall no leading need.
...shall lead thee.
They exit.
Scene 6
...Fare thee well.
Enter Gloucester and Edgar dressed as a peasant.
When shall I come to th’ top of that same hill?
...how we labor.
Methinks the ground is even.
...hear the sea?
No, truly.
...your eyes’ anguish.
So may it be indeed.
Methinks thy voice is altered and thou speak’st
In better phrase and matter than thou didst.
...in my garments.
Methinks you’re better spoken.
...Topple down headlong.
Set me where you stand.
...not leap upright.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, ’s another purse; in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man’s taking. Fairies and gods
Prosper it with thee.He gives Edgar a purse.
Go thou further off.
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
...well, good sir.
With all my heart.
...to cure it.
O you mighty gods!He kneels.
This world I do renounce, and in your sights
Shake patiently my great affliction off.
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and loathèd part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!—
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
He falls.
...are you, sir?
Away, and let me die.
...Speak yet again.
But have I fall’n or no?
...but look up.
Alack, I have no eyes.
Is wretchedness deprived that benefit
To end itself by death? ’Twas yet some comfort
When misery could beguile the tyrant’s rage
And frustrate his proud will.
...me your arm.
He raises Gloucester.
...legs? You stand.
Too well, too well.
...parted from you?
A poor unfortunate beggar.
...have preserved thee.
I do remember now. Henceforth I’ll bear
Affliction till it do cry out itself
“Enough, enough!” and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man. Often ’twould say
“The fiend, the fiend!” He led me to that place.
...Sweet marjoram. Pass.
I know that voice.
...am not ague-proof.
The trick of that voice I do well remember.
Is ’t not the King?
...money for thee.
O, let me kiss that hand!
...smells of mortality.
O ruined piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me?
...penning of it.
Were all thy letters suns, I could not see.
...at it. Read.
What, with the case of eyes?
...this world goes.
I see it feelingly.
...at a beggar?
Ay, sir.
...to thee. Mark.
Alack, alack the day!
...thank you, sir.
You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please.
...pray you, father.
Now, good sir, what are you?
...to some biding.
He takes Gloucester’s hand.
Hearty thanks.
The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot.
...must destroy thee.
Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to ’t.
...badness would desire.
What, is he dead?
...I can tell.
The King is mad. How stiff is my vile sense
That I stand up and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract.
So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs,
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves.
...with a friend.
They exit.
ACT 5
Scene 2
...not to debate.
Enter Edgar and Gloucester.
...bring you comfort.
Grace go with you, sir.
...hand. Come on.
No further, sir. A man may rot even here.
...all. Come on.
And that’s true too.
They exit.