William Shakespeare - The Complete Works

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KING LEAR [THE FOLIO TEXT] Act 2 Scene 2 (Enter the Earl of Kent, disguised, and Oswald the steward, severally) l1l Oswald Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house? l2l Kent Ay. l3l Oswald Where may we set our horses? l4l Kent IÆ thÆ mire. l5l Oswald Prithee, if thou lovÆst me, tell me. l6l Kent I love thee not. l7l Oswald Why then, I care not for thee. l8l Kent If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold I would make thee l9l care for me. l10l Oswald Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. l11l Kent Fellow, I know thee. l12l Oswald What dost thou know me for? l13l Kent A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats, a base, l14l proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, l15l filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action- l16l taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable, l17l finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that l18l wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art l19l nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, l20l coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel l21l bitch, one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if l22l thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition. l23l Oswald Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to l24l rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows l25l thee! l26l Kent What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou l27l knowest me! Is it two days since I tripped up thy heels l28l and beat thee before the King? Draw, you rogue; for l29l though it be night, yet the moon shines. (He draws his sword) l30l IÆll make a sop oÆ thÆ moonshine of you, you whoreson, l31l cullionly barber-monger, draw! l32l Oswald Away. I have nothing to do with thee. l33l Kent Draw, you rascal. You come with letters against l34l the King, and take Vanity the puppetÆs part against the l35l royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or IÆll so l36l carbonado your shanksùdraw, you rascal, come your l37l ways! l38l Oswald Help, ho, murder, help! l39l Kent Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat l40l slave, strike! l41l Oswald Help, ho, murder, murder! (Enter Edmond the bastard, then the Duke of Cornwall, Regan, the Duke of Gloucester, and servants) l42l Edmond How now, whatÆs the matter? Part. l43l Kent With you, goodman boy. If you please, come, IÆll l44l flesh ye. Come on, young master. l45l Gloucester Weapons? Arms? WhatÆs the matter here? l46l Cornwall Keep peace, upon your lives. He dies that strikes again. l47l What is the matter? l48l Regan The messengers from our sister and the King. l49l Cornwall (to Kent and Oswald) What is your difference? l50l Speak. l51l Oswald I am scarce in breath, my lord. l52l Kent No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour, you l53l cowardly rascal. Nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made l54l thee. l55l Cornwall Thou art a strange fellowùa tailor make a l56l man? l57l Kent A tailor, sir. A stone-cutter or a painter could not l58l have made him so ill though they had been but two l59l years oÆ thÆ trade. l60l Cornwall Speak yet; how grew your quarrel? l61l Oswald This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared l62l at suit of his grey beardù l63l Kent Thou whoreson Z, thou unnecessary letterù (to l64l Cornwall) my lord, if youÆll give me leave I will tread l65l this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the wall of l66l a jakes with him. (To Oswald) Spare my grey beard, l67l you wagtail? l68l Cornwall Peace, sirrah. l69l You beastly knave, know you no reverence? l70l Kent Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege. l71l Cornwall Why art thou angry? l72l Kent That such a slave as this should wear a sword, l73l Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, l74l Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain l75l Which are too intrince tÆ unloose, smooth every passion l76l That in the natures of their lords rebel; l77l Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods, l78l Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks l79l With every gall and vary of their masters, l80l Knowing naught, like dogs, but following. l81l (To Oswald) A plague upon your epileptic visage! l82l Smile you my speeches as I were a fool? l83l Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain l84l IÆd drive ye cackling home to Camelot. l85l Cornwall What, art thou mad, old fellow? Gloucester (to Kent) How fell you out? Say that. l86l Kent No contraries hold more antipathy l87l Than I and such a knave. Cornwall Why dost thou call him knave? l88l What is his fault? Kent His countenance likes me not. l89l Cornwall No more perchance does mine, nor his, nor hers. l90l Kent Sir, Ætis my occupation to be plain: l91l I have seen better faces in my time l92l Than stands on any shoulder that I see l93l Before me at this instant. Cornwall This is some fellow l94l Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect l95l A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb l96l Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he; l97l An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth. l98l An they will take Æt, so; if not, heÆs plain. l99l These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness l100l Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends l101l Than twenty silly-ducking observants l102l That stretch their duties nicely. l103l Kent Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity, l104l Under thÆ allowance of your great aspect, l105l Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire l106l On flickÆring PhoebusÆ frontù Cornwall What meanÆst by this? l107l Kent To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so l108l much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that beguiled l109l you in a plain accent was a plain knave, which for my l110l part I will not be, though I should win your displeasure l111l to entreat me to Æt. l112l Cornwall (to Oswald) What was thÆ offence you gave him? Oswald I never gave him any. l113l It pleased the King his master very late l114l To strike at me upon his misconstruction, l115l When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure, l116l Tripped me behind; being down, insulted, railed, l117l And put upon him such a deal of man l118l That worthied him, got praises of the King l119l For him attempting who was self-subdued, l120l And in the fleshment of this dread exploit l121l Drew on me here again. Kent None of these rogues and cowards l122l But Ajax is their fool. Cornwall Fetch forth the stocks! (Exeunt some servants) l123l You stubborn, ancient knave, you reverend braggart, l124l WeÆll teach you. Kent Sir, I am too old to learn. l125l Call not your stocks for me. I serve the King, l126l On whose employment I was sent to you. l127l You shall do small respect, show too bold malice l128l Against the grace and person of my master, l129l Stocking his messenger. Cornwall (calling) Fetch forth the stocks!ù l130l As I have life and honour, there shall he sit till noon. l131l Regan Till noon?ùtill night, my lord, and all night too. l132l Kent Why, madam, if I were your fatherÆs dog l133l You should not use me so. Regan Sir, being his knave, I will. (Stocks brought out) l134l Cornwall This is a fellow of the selfsame colour l135l Our sister speaks of.ùCome, bring away the stocks. l136l Gloucester Let me beseech your grace not to do so. l137l The King his master needs must take it ill l138l That he, so slightly valued in his messenger, l139l Should have him thus restrained. Cornwall IÆll answer that. (They put Kent in the stocks) l140l Regan My sister may receive it much more worse l141l To have her gentlemen abused, assaulted. l142l Cornwall Come, my good lord, away! (Exeunt all but Gloucester and Kent) l143l Gloucester I am sorry for thee, friend. ÆTis the DukeÆs pleasure, l144l Whose disposition, all the world well knows, l145l Will not be rubbed nor stopped. IÆll entreat for thee. l146l Kent Pray do not, sir. I have watched and travelled hard. l147l Some time I shall sleep out; the rest IÆll whistle. l148l A good manÆs fortune may grow out at heels. l149l Give you good morrow. l150l Gloucester The DukeÆs to blame in this; Ætwill be ill taken. (Exit) l151l Kent Good King, that must approve the common say: l152l Thou out of heavenÆs benediction comÆst l153l To the warm sun. (He takes out a letter) l154l Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, l155l That by thy comfortable beams I may l156l Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles l157l But misery. I know Ætis from Cordelia, l158l Who hath now fortunately been informed l159l Of my obscurΦd course, and shall find time l160l For this enormous state, seeking to give l161l Losses their remedies. All weary and oÆerwatched, l162l Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold l163l This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night; l164l Smile once more; turn thy wheel. (He sleeps) (Enter Edgar) Edgar I heard myself proclaimed, l165l And by the happy hollow of a tree l166l Escaped the hunt. No port is free, no place l167l That guard and most unusual vigilance l168l Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape l169l I will preserve myself, and am bethought l170l To take the basest and most poorest shape l171l That ever penury in contempt of man l172l Brought near to beast. My face IÆll grime with filth, l173l Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots, l174l And with presented nakedness outface l175l The winds and persecutions of the sky. l176l The country gives me proof and precedent l177l Of Bedlam beggars who with roaring voices l178l Strike in their numbed and mortifiΦd arms l179l Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary, l180l And with this horrible object from low farms, l181l Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills l182l Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers l183l Enforce their charity. ôPoor Tuelygod, Poor Tom.ö l184l ThatÆs something yet. Edgar I nothing am. (Exit) (Enter King Lear, his Fool, and the First Gentleman) l185l Lear ÆTis strange that they should so depart from home l186l And not send back my messenger. [First] Gentleman As I learned, l187l The night before there was no purpose in them l188l Of this remove. Kent (waking) Hail to thee, noble master. l189l Lear Ha! MakÆst thou this shame thy pastime? Kent No, my lord. l190l Fool Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters! Horses are tied by l191l the heads, dogs and bears by thÆ neck, monkeys by thÆ l192l loins, and men by thÆ legs. When a manÆs overlusty at l193l legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks. l194l Lear (to Kent) WhatÆs he that hath so much thy place mistook l195l To set thee here? Kent It is both he and she: l196l Your son and daughter. Lear No. Kent Yes. Lear No, I say. l197l Kent I say yea. Lear By Jupiter, I swear no. l198l Kent By Juno, I swear ay. Lear They durst not do Æt, l199l They could not, would not do Æt. ÆTis worse than murder, l200l To do upon respect such violent outrage. l201l Resolve me with all modest haste which way l202l Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage, l203l Coming from us. Kent My lord, when at their home l204l I did commend your highnessÆ letters to them, l205l Ere I was risen from the place that showed l206l My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post l207l Stewed in his haste, half breathless, painting forth l208l From Goneril, his mistress, salutations, l209l Delivered letters spite of intermission, l210l Which presently they read, on whose contents l211l They summoned up their meiny, straight took horse, l212l Commanded me to follow and attend l213l The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks; l214l And meeting here the other messenger, l215l Whose welcome I perceived had poisoned mineù l216l Being the very fellow which of late l217l Displayed so saucily against your highnessù l218l Having more man than wit about me, drew. l219l He raised the house with loud and coward cries. l220l Your son and daughter found this trespass worth l221l The shame which here it suffers. l222l Fool WinterÆs not gone yet if the wild geese fly that way. l223l (Sings) Fathers that wear rags l224l Do make their children blind, l225l But fathers that bear bags l226l Shall see their children kind. l227l Fortune, that arrant whore, l228l NeÆer turns the key to thÆ poor. l229l But for all this thou shalt have as many dolours for l230l thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year. l231l Lear O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! l232l Histerica passio down, thou climbing sorrow; l233l Thy elementÆs below.ùWhere is this daughter? l234l Kent With the Earl, sir, here within. Lear Follow me not; stay here. (Exit) [First] Gentleman (to Kent) l235l Made you no more offence but what you speak of? l236l Kent None. l237l How chance the King comes with so small a number? l238l Fool An thou hadst been set iÆ thÆ stocks for that question, l239l thouÆdst well deserved it. l240l Kent Why, Fool? l241l Fool WeÆll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee l242l thereÆs no labouring iÆ thÆ winter. All that follow their l243l noses are led by their eyes but blind men, and thereÆs l244l not a nose among twenty but can smell him thatÆs l245l stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs l246l down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following; but l247l the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee l248l after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give l249l me mine again. I would have none but knaves follow l250l it, since a fool gives it. l251l (Sings) That sir which serves and seeks for gain l252l And follows but for form, l253l Will pack when it begin to rain, l254l And leave thee in the storm. l255l But I will tarry, the fool will stay, l256l And let the wise man fly. l257l The knave turns fool that runs away, l258l The fool no knave, pardie. l259l Kent Where learned you this, Fool? l260l Fool Not iÆ thÆ stocks, fool. (Enter King Lear and the Duke of Gloucester) l261l Lear Deny to speak with me? They are sick, they are weary, l262l They have travelled all the night?ùmere fetches, l263l The images of revolt and flying off. l264l Fetch me a better answer. Gloucester My dear lord, l265l You know the fiery quality of the Duke, l266l How unremovable and fixed he is l267l In his own course. Lear Vengeance, plague, death, confusion! l268l ôFieryö? What ôqualityö? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, l269l IÆd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. l270l Gloucester Well, my good lord, I have informed them so. l271l Lear ôInformed themö? Dost thou understand me, man? l272l Gloucester Ay, my good lord. l273l Lear The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father l274l Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends service. l275l Are they ôinformedö of this? My breath and bloodù l276l ôFieryö? The ôfieryö Dukeùtell the hot Duke thatù l277l No, but not yet. Maybe he is not well. l278l Infirmity doth still neglect all office l279l Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves l280l When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind l281l To suffer with the body. IÆll forbear, l282l And am fallen out with my more headier will, l283l To take the indisposed and sickly fit l284l For the sound man.ùDeath on my state, wherefore l285l Should he sit here? This act persuades me l286l That this remotion of the Duke and her l287l Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. l288l Go tell the Duke and Æs wife IÆd speak with them, l289l Now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me, l290l Or at their chamber door IÆll beat the drum l291l Till it cry sleep to death. Gloucester I would have all well betwixt you. (Exit) l292l Lear O me, my heart! My rising heart! But down. l293l Fool Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels l294l when she put Æem iÆ thÆ paste alive. She knapped Æem l295l oÆ thÆ coxcombs with a stick, and cried ôDown, wantons, l296l down!ö ÆTwas her brother that, in pure kindness to his l297l horse, buttered his hay. (Enter the Duke of Cornwall, Regan, the Duke of Gloucester, and servants) l298l Lear Good morrow to you both. l299l Cornwall Hail to your grace. (Kent here set at liberty) l300l Regan I am glad to see your highness. l301l Lear Regan, I think you are. I know what reason l302l I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad l303l I would divorce me from thy motherÆs shrine, l304l Sepulchring an adultress. (To Kent) O, are you free? l305l Some other time for that. (Exit Kent) BelovΦd Regan, l306l Thy sisterÆs naught. O, Regan, she hath tied l307l Sharp-toothed unkindness like a vulture here. l308l I can scarce speak to thee. ThouÆlt not believe l309l With how depraved a qualityùO, Regan! l310l Regan I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope l311l You less know how to value her desert l312l Than she to scant her duty. Lear Say, how is that? l313l Regan I cannot think my sister in the least l314l Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance l315l She have restrained the riots of your followers, l316l ÆTis on such ground and to such wholesome end l317l As clears her from all blame. l318l Lear My curses on her. l319l Regan O sir, you are old. l320l Nature in you stands on the very verge l321l Of his confine. You should be ruled and led l322l By some discretion that discerns your state l323l Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you l324l That to our sister you do make return; l325l Say you have wronged her. Lear Ask her forgiveness? l326l Do you but mark how this becomes the house? l327l (Kneeling) ôDear daughter, I confess that I am old. l328l Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg l329l That youÆll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.ö l330l Regan Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks. l331l Return you to my sister. Lear (rising) Never, Regan. l332l She hath abated me of half my train, l333l Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue l334l Most serpent-like upon the very heart. l335l All the stored vengeances of heaven fall l336l On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, l337l You taking airs, with lameness! Cornwall Fie, sir, fie. l338l Lear You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames l339l Into her scornful eyes. Infect her beauty, l340l You fen-sucked fogs drawn by the powÆrful sun l341l To fall and blister. Regan O, the blest gods! l342l So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on. l343l Lear No, Regan. Thou shalt never have my curse. l344l Thy tender-hafted nature shall not give l345l Thee oÆer to harshness. Her eyes are fierce, but thine l346l Do comfort and not burn. ÆTis not in thee l347l To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, l348l To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, l349l And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt l350l Against my coming in. Thou better knowÆst l351l The offices of nature, bond of childhood, l352l Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude. l353l Thy half oÆ thÆ kingdom hast thou not forgot, l354l Wherein I thee endowed. Regan Good sir, to thÆ purpose. l355l Lear Who put my man iÆ thÆ stocks? (Tucket within) Cornwall What trumpetÆs that? (Enter Oswald the steward) l356l Regan I know Æt, my sisterÆs. This approves her letter l357l That she would soon be here. (To Oswald) Is your lady come? l358l Lear This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride l359l Dwells in the sickly grace of her a follows. l360l (To Oswald) Out, varlet, from my sight! Cornwall What means your grace? (Enter Goneril) l361l Lear Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope l362l Thou didst not know on Æt. Who comes here? O heavens, l363l If you do love old men, if your sweet sway l364l Allow obedience, if you yourselves are old, l365l Make it your cause! Send down and take my part. l366l (To Goneril) Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? l367l O Regan, will you take her by the hand? l368l Goneril Why not by thÆ hand, sir? How have I offended? l369l AllÆs not offence that indiscretion finds l370l And dotage terms so. Lear O sides, you are too tough! l371l Will you yet hold?ùHow came my man iÆ thÆ stocks? l372l Cornwall I set him there, sir; but his own disorders l373l Deserved much less advancement. Lear You? Did you? l374l Regan I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. l375l If till the expiration of your month l376l You will return and sojourn with my sister, l377l Dismissing half your train, come then to me. l378l I am now from home, and out of that provision l379l Which shall be needful for your entertainment. l380l Lear Return to her, and fifty men dismissed? l381l No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose l382l To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, l383l To wage against the enmity oÆ thÆ air l384l NecessityÆs sharp pinch. Return with her? l385l Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took l386l Our youngest bornùI could as well be brought l387l To knee his throne and, squire-like, pension beg l388l To keep base life afoot. Return with her? l389l Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter l390l To this detested groom. Goneril At your choice, sir. l391l Lear I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad. l392l I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell. l393l WeÆll no more meet, no more see one another. l394l But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughterù l395l Or rather a disease thatÆs in my flesh, l396l Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil, l397l A plague-sore or embossΦd carbuncle l398l In my corrupted blood. But IÆll not chide thee. l399l Let shame come when it will, I do not call it. l400l I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, l401l Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. l402l Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure. l403l I can be patient, I can stay with Regan, l404l I and my hundred knights. Regan Not altogether so. l405l I looked not for you yet, nor am provided l406l For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; l407l For those that mingle reason with your passion l408l Must be content to think you old, and soù l409l But she knows what she does. Lear Is this well spoken? l410l Regan I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers? l411l Is it not well? What should you need of more, l412l Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger l413l Speak Ægainst so great a number? How in one house l414l Should many people under two commands l415l Hold amity? ÆTis hard, almost impossible. l416l Goneril Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance l417l From those that she calls servants, or from mine? l418l Regan Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack ye, l419l We could control them. If you will come to meù l420l For now I spy a dangerùI entreat you l421l To bring but five-and-twenty; to no more l422l Will I give place or notice. l423l Lear I gave you all. l424l Regan And in good time you gave it. l425l Lear Made you my guardians, my depositaries, l426l But kept a reservation to be followed l427l With such a number. What, must I come to you l428l With five-and-twenty? Regan, said you so? l429l Regan And speak Æt again, my lord. No more with me. l430l Lear Those wicked creatures yet do look well favoured l431l When others are more wicked. Not being the worst l432l Stands in some rank of praise. (To Goneril) IÆll go with thee. l433l Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty, l434l And thou art twice her love. Goneril Hear me, my lord. l435l What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, l436l To follow in a house where twice so many l437l Have a command to tend you? Regan What need one? l438l Lear O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars l439l Are in the poorest thing superfluous. l440l Allow not nature more than nature needs, l441l ManÆs life is cheap as beastÆs. Thou art a lady. l442l If only to go warm were gorgeous, l443l Why, nature needs not what thou, gorgeous, wearÆst, l444l Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But for true needù l445l You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need. l446l You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, l447l As full of grief as age, wretchΦd in both. l448l If it be you that stirs these daughtersÆ hearts l449l Against their father, fool me not so much l450l To bear it tamely. Touch me with noble anger, l451l And let not womenÆs weapons, water-drops, l452l Stain my manÆs cheeks. No, you unnatural hags, l453l I will have such revenges on you both l454l That all the world shallùI will do such thingsù l455l What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be l456l The terrors of the earth. You think IÆll weep. l457l No, IÆll not weep. I have full cause of weeping, (Storm and tempest) l458l But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws l459l Or ere IÆll weep.ùO Fool, I shall go mad! (Exeunt Lear, Fool, Gentleman, and Gloucester) l460l Cornwall Let us withdraw. ÆTwill be a storm. l461l Regan This house is little. The old man and Æs people l462l Cannot be well bestowed. Goneril ÆTis his own blame; l463l Hath put himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly. l464l Regan For his particular IÆll receive him gladly, l465l But not one follower. Goneril So am I purposed. l466l Where is my lord of Gloucester? l467l Cornwall Followed the old man forth. (Enter the Duke of Gloucester) He is returned. l468l Gloucester The King is in high rage. Cornwall Whither is he going? l469l Gloucester He calls to horse, but will I know not whither. l470l Cornwall ÆTis best to give him way. He leads himself. l471l Goneril (to Gloucester) My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. l472l Gloucester Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds l473l Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about l474l ThereÆs scarce a bush. Regan O sir, to wilful men l475l The injuries that they themselves procure l476l Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. l477l He is attended with a desperate train, l478l And what they may incense him to, being apt l479l To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. l480l Cornwall Shut up your doors, my lord. ÆTis a wild night. l481l My Regan counsels well. Come out oÆ thÆ storm. (Exeunt)