It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theatre.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
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The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
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King Lear
dramatizes the story of an aged king of ancient Britain, whose plan to divide his kingdom among his three daughters ends tragically. When he tests each by asking how much she loves him, the older daughters, Goneril and Regan, flatter him. The youngest, Cordelia, does not, and Lear disowns and banishes her. She marries the king of France. Goneril and Regan turn on Lear, leaving him to wander madly in a furious storm.
Meanwhile, the Earl of Gloucester’s illegitimate son Edmund turns Gloucester against his legitimate son, Edgar. Gloucester, appalled at the daughters’ treatment of Lear, gets news that a French army is coming to help Lear. Edmund betrays Gloucester to Regan and her husband, Cornwall, who puts out Gloucester’s eyes and makes Edmund the Earl of Gloucester.
Cordelia and the French army save Lear, but the army is defeated. Edmund imprisons Cordelia and Lear. Edgar then mortally wounds Edmund in a trial by combat. Dying, Edmund confesses that he has ordered the deaths of Cordelia and Lear. Before they can be rescued, Lear brings in Cordelia’s body and then he himself dies.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Enter
Kent
,
Gloucester
,
and
Edmund
.
I
thought
the
King
had
more
affected
the
Duke
of
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
.
Is
not
this
your
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
.
I
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
?
I
cannot
wish
the
fault
undone
,
the
issue
of
it
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
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
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
.
My
services
to
your
Lordship
.
I
must
love
you
and
sue
to
know
you
better
.
Sir
,
I
shall
study
deserving
.
He
hath
been
out
nine
years
,
and
away
he
shall
again
.
(
Sennet
.
)
The
King
is
coming
.
Enter
King
Lear
,
Cornwall
,
Albany
,
Goneril
,
Regan
,
Cordelia
,
and
Attendants
.
Attend
the
lords
of
France
and
Burgundy
,
Gloucester
.
I
shall
,
my
lord
.
He
exits
.
Meantime
we
shall
express
our
darker
purpose
.
—
Give
me
the
map
there
.
He
is
handed
a
map
.
Know
that
we
have
divided
In
three
our
kingdom
,
and
’tis
our
fast
intent
To
shake
all
cares
and
business
from
our
age
,
Conferring
them
on
younger
strengths
,
while
we
Unburdened
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
Our
daughters’
several
dowers
,
that
future
strife
May
be
prevented
now
.
The
two
great
princes
,
France
and
Burgundy
,
Great
rivals
in
our
youngest
daughter’s
love
,
Long
in
our
court
have
made
their
amorous
sojourn
And
here
are
to
be
answered
.
Tell
me
,
my
daughters
—
Since
now
we
will
divest
us
both
of
rule
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
Interest
of
territory
,
cares
of
state
—
Which
of
you
shall
we
say
doth
love
us
most
,
That
we
our
largest
bounty
may
extend
Where
nature
doth
with
merit
challenge
.
Goneril
,
Our
eldest
born
,
speak
first
.
Sir
,
I
love
you
more
than
word
can
wield
the
matter
,
Dearer
than
eyesight
,
space
,
and
liberty
,
Beyond
what
can
be
valued
,
rich
or
rare
,
No
less
than
life
,
with
grace
,
health
,
beauty
,
honor
;
As
much
as
child
e’er
loved
,
or
father
found
;
A
love
that
makes
breath
poor
,
and
speech
unable
.
Beyond
all
manner
of
so
much
I
love
you
.
,
aside
What
shall
Cordelia
speak
?
Love
,
and
be
silent
.
,
pointing
to
the
map
Of
all
these
bounds
,
even
from
this
line
to
this
,
With
shadowy
forests
and
with
champains
riched
,
With
plenteous
rivers
and
wide-skirted
meads
,
We
make
thee
lady
.
To
thine
and
Albany’s
issue
Be
this
perpetual
.
—
What
says
our
second
daughter
,
Our
dearest
Regan
,
wife
of
Cornwall
?
Speak
.
I
am
made
of
that
self
mettle
as
my
sister
And
prize
me
at
her
worth
.
In
my
true
heart
I
find
she
names
my
very
deed
of
love
;
Only
she
comes
too
short
,
that
I
profess
Myself
an
enemy
to
all
other
joys
Which
the
most
precious
square
of
sense
possesses
,
And
find
I
am
alone
felicitate
In
your
dear
Highness’
love
.
,
aside
Then
poor
Cordelia
!
And
yet
not
so
,
since
I
am
sure
my
love’s
More
ponderous
than
my
tongue
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
To
thee
and
thine
hereditary
ever
Remain
this
ample
third
of
our
fair
kingdom
,
No
less
in
space
,
validity
,
and
pleasure
Than
that
conferred
on
Goneril
.
—
Now
,
our
joy
,
Although
our
last
and
least
,
to
whose
young
love
The
vines
of
France
and
milk
of
Burgundy
Strive
to
be
interessed
,
what
can
you
say
to
draw
A
third
more
opulent
than
your
sisters’
?
Speak
.
Nothing
,
my
lord
.
Nothing
?
Nothing
.
Nothing
will
come
of
nothing
.
Speak
again
.
Unhappy
that
I
am
,
I
cannot
heave
My
heart
into
my
mouth
.
I
love
your
Majesty
According
to
my
bond
,
no
more
nor
less
.
How
,
how
,
Cordelia
?
Mend
your
speech
a
little
,
Lest
you
may
mar
your
fortunes
.
Good
my
lord
,
You
have
begot
me
,
bred
me
,
loved
me
.
I
return
those
duties
back
as
are
right
fit
:
Obey
you
,
love
you
,
and
most
honor
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
Half
my
love
with
him
,
half
my
care
and
duty
.
Sure
I
shall
never
marry
like
my
sisters
,
To
love
my
father
all
.
But
goes
thy
heart
with
this
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
So
young
and
so
untender
?
So
young
,
my
lord
,
and
true
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Let
it
be
so
.
Thy
truth
,
then
,
be
thy
dower
,
For
by
the
sacred
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
,
Here
I
disclaim
all
my
paternal
care
,
Propinquity
,
and
property
of
blood
,
And
as
a
stranger
to
my
heart
and
me
Hold
thee
from
this
forever
.
The
barbarous
Scythian
,
Or
he
that
makes
his
generation
messes
To
gorge
his
appetite
,
shall
to
my
bosom
Be
as
well
neighbored
,
pitied
,
and
relieved
As
thou
my
sometime
daughter
.
Good
my
liege
—
Peace
,
Kent
.
Come
not
between
the
dragon
and
his
wrath
.
I
loved
her
most
and
thought
to
set
my
rest
On
her
kind
nursery
.
To
Cordelia
.
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
.
An
Attendant
exits
.
Cornwall
and
Albany
,
With
my
two
daughters’
dowers
digest
the
third
.
Let
pride
,
which
she
calls
plainness
,
marry
her
.
I
do
invest
you
jointly
with
my
power
,
Preeminence
,
and
all
the
large
effects
That
troop
with
majesty
.
Ourself
by
monthly
course
,
With
reservation
of
an
hundred
knights
By
you
to
be
sustained
,
shall
our
abode
Make
with
you
by
due
turn
.
Only
we
shall
retain
The
name
and
all
th’
addition
to
a
king
.
The
sway
,
revenue
,
execution
of
the
rest
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
Belovèd
sons
,
be
yours
,
which
to
confirm
,
This
coronet
part
between
you
.
Royal
Lear
,
Whom
I
have
ever
honored
as
my
king
,
Loved
as
my
father
,
as
my
master
followed
,
As
my
great
patron
thought
on
in
my
prayers
—
The
bow
is
bent
and
drawn
.
Make
from
the
shaft
.
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
?
Think’st
thou
that
duty
shall
have
dread
to
speak
When
power
to
flattery
bows
?
To
plainness
honor’s
bound
When
majesty
falls
to
folly
.
Reserve
thy
state
,
And
in
thy
best
consideration
check
This
hideous
rashness
.
Answer
my
life
my
judgment
,
Thy
youngest
daughter
does
not
love
thee
least
,
Nor
are
those
empty-hearted
whose
low
sounds
Reverb
no
hollowness
.
Kent
,
on
thy
life
,
no
more
.
My
life
I
never
held
but
as
a
pawn
To
wage
against
thine
enemies
,
nor
fear
to
lose
it
,
Thy
safety
being
motive
.
Out
of
my
sight
!
See
better
,
Lear
,
and
let
me
still
remain
The
true
blank
of
thine
eye
.
Now
,
by
Apollo
—
Now
,
by
Apollo
,
king
,
Thou
swear’st
thy
gods
in
vain
.
O
vassal
!
Miscreant
!
ACT 1. SC. 1
Dear
sir
,
forbear
.
Kill
thy
physician
,
and
thy
fee
bestow
Upon
the
foul
disease
.
Revoke
thy
gift
,
Or
whilst
I
can
vent
clamor
from
my
throat
,
I’ll
tell
thee
thou
dost
evil
.
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
strained
pride
To
come
betwixt
our
sentence
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
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
banished
trunk
be
found
in
our
dominions
,
The
moment
is
thy
death
.
Away
!
By
Jupiter
,
This
shall
not
be
revoked
.
Fare
thee
well
,
king
.
Sith
thus
thou
wilt
appear
,
Freedom
lives
hence
,
and
banishment
is
here
.
To
Cordelia
.
The
gods
to
their
dear
shelter
take
thee
,
maid
,
That
justly
think’st
and
hast
most
rightly
said
.
To
Goneril
and
Regan
.
And
your
large
speeches
may
your
deeds
approve
,
That
good
effects
may
spring
from
words
of
love
.
—
Thus
Kent
,
O
princes
,
bids
you
all
adieu
.
He’ll
shape
his
old
course
in
a
country
new
.
He
exits
.
Flourish
.
Enter
Gloucester
with
France
,
and
Burgundy
,
and
Attendants
.
Here’s
France
and
Burgundy
,
my
noble
lord
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
My
lord
of
Burgundy
,
We
first
address
toward
you
,
who
with
this
king
Hath
rivaled
for
our
daughter
.
What
in
the
least
Will
you
require
in
present
dower
with
her
,
Or
cease
your
quest
of
love
?
Most
royal
Majesty
,
I
crave
no
more
than
hath
your
Highness
offered
,
Nor
will
you
tender
less
.
Right
noble
Burgundy
,
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
pieced
And
nothing
more
,
may
fitly
like
your
Grace
,
She’s
there
,
and
she
is
yours
.
I
know
no
answer
.
Will
you
,
with
those
infirmities
she
owes
,
Unfriended
,
new-adopted
to
our
hate
,
Dowered
with
our
curse
and
strangered
with
our
oath
,
Take
her
or
leave
her
?
Pardon
me
,
royal
sir
,
Election
makes
not
up
in
such
conditions
.
Then
leave
her
,
sir
,
for
by
the
power
that
made
me
I
tell
you
all
her
wealth
.
—
For
you
,
great
king
,
I
would
not
from
your
love
make
such
a
stray
To
match
you
where
I
hate
.
Therefore
beseech
you
T’
avert
your
liking
a
more
worthier
way
Than
on
a
wretch
whom
Nature
is
ashamed
Almost
t’
acknowledge
hers
.
This
is
most
strange
,
That
she
whom
even
but
now
was
your
best
object
,
The
argument
of
your
praise
,
balm
of
your
age
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
The
best
,
the
dearest
,
should
in
this
trice
of
time
Commit
a
thing
so
monstrous
to
dismantle
So
many
folds
of
favor
.
Sure
her
offense
Must
be
of
such
unnatural
degree
That
monsters
it
,
or
your
forevouched
affection
Fall
into
taint
;
which
to
believe
of
her
Must
be
a
faith
that
reason
without
miracle
Should
never
plant
in
me
.
,
to
Lear
I
yet
beseech
your
Majesty
—
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
,
No
unchaste
action
or
dishonored
step
That
hath
deprived
me
of
your
grace
and
favor
,
But
even
for
want
of
that
for
which
I
am
richer
:
A
still-soliciting
eye
and
such
a
tongue
That
I
am
glad
I
have
not
,
though
not
to
have
it
Hath
lost
me
in
your
liking
.
Better
thou
Hadst
not
been
born
than
not
t’
have
pleased
me
better
.
Is
it
but
this
—
a
tardiness
in
nature
Which
often
leaves
the
history
unspoke
That
it
intends
to
do
?
—
My
lord
of
Burgundy
,
What
say
you
to
the
lady
?
Love’s
not
love
When
it
is
mingled
with
regards
that
stands
Aloof
from
th’
entire
point
.
Will
you
have
her
?
She
is
herself
a
dowry
.
,
to
Lear
Royal
king
,
Give
but
that
portion
which
yourself
proposed
,
And
here
I
take
Cordelia
by
the
hand
,
Duchess
of
Burgundy
.
Nothing
.
I
have
sworn
.
I
am
firm
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
,
to
Cordelia
I
am
sorry
,
then
,
you
have
so
lost
a
father
That
you
must
lose
a
husband
.
Peace
be
with
Burgundy
.
Since
that
respect
and
fortunes
are
his
love
,
I
shall
not
be
his
wife
.
Fairest
Cordelia
,
that
art
most
rich
being
poor
;
Most
choice
,
forsaken
;
and
most
loved
,
despised
,
Thee
and
thy
virtues
here
I
seize
upon
,
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
enflamed
respect
.
—
Thy
dowerless
daughter
,
king
,
thrown
to
my
chance
,
Is
queen
of
us
,
of
ours
,
and
our
fair
France
.
Not
all
the
dukes
of
wat’rish
Burgundy
Can
buy
this
unprized
precious
maid
of
me
.
—
Bid
them
farewell
,
Cordelia
,
though
unkind
.
Thou
losest
here
a
better
where
to
find
.
Thou
hast
her
,
France
.
Let
her
be
thine
,
for
we
Have
no
such
daughter
,
nor
shall
ever
see
That
face
of
hers
again
.
To
Cordelia
.
Therefore
begone
Without
our
grace
,
our
love
,
our
benison
.
—
Come
,
noble
Burgundy
.
Flourish
.
All
but
France
,
Cordelia
,
Goneril
,
and
Regan
exit
.
Bid
farewell
to
your
sisters
.
The
jewels
of
our
father
,
with
washed
eyes
Cordelia
leaves
you
.
I
know
you
what
you
are
,
And
like
a
sister
am
most
loath
to
call
ACT 1. SC. 1
Your
faults
as
they
are
named
.
Love
well
our
father
.
To
your
professèd
bosoms
I
commit
him
;
But
yet
,
alas
,
stood
I
within
his
grace
,
I
would
prefer
him
to
a
better
place
.
So
farewell
to
you
both
.
Prescribe
not
us
our
duty
.
Let
your
study
Be
to
content
your
lord
,
who
hath
received
you
At
Fortune’s
alms
.
You
have
obedience
scanted
And
well
are
worth
the
want
that
you
have
wanted
.
Time
shall
unfold
what
plighted
cunning
hides
,
Who
covers
faults
at
last
with
shame
derides
.
Well
may
you
prosper
.
Come
,
my
fair
Cordelia
.
France
and
Cordelia
exit
.
Sister
,
it
is
not
little
I
have
to
say
of
what
most
nearly
appertains
to
us
both
.
I
think
our
father
will
hence
tonight
.
That’s
most
certain
,
and
with
you
;
next
month
with
us
.
You
see
how
full
of
changes
his
age
is
;
the
observation
we
have
made
of
it
hath
not
been
little
.
He
always
loved
our
sister
most
,
and
with
what
poor
judgment
he
hath
now
cast
her
off
appears
too
grossly
.
’Tis
the
infirmity
of
his
age
.
Yet
he
hath
ever
but
slenderly
known
himself
.
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
,
but
therewithal
the
unruly
waywardness
that
infirm
and
choleric
years
bring
with
them
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Such
unconstant
starts
are
we
like
to
have
from
him
as
this
of
Kent’s
banishment
.
There
is
further
compliment
of
leave-taking
between
France
and
him
.
Pray
you
,
let
us
sit
together
.
If
our
father
carry
authority
with
such
disposition
as
he
bears
,
this
last
surrender
of
his
will
but
offend
us
.
We
shall
further
think
of
it
.
We
must
do
something
,
and
i’
th’
heat
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Edmund
,
the
Bastard
.
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
of
nations
to
deprive
me
For
that
I
am
some
twelve
or
fourteen
moonshines
Lag
of
a
brother
?
why
bastard
?
Wherefore
base
,
When
my
dimensions
are
as
well
compact
,
My
mind
as
generous
and
my
shape
as
true
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
and
fierce
quality
Than
doth
within
a
dull
,
stale
,
tired
bed
Go
to
th’
creating
a
whole
tribe
of
fops
Got
’tween
asleep
and
wake
?
Well
then
,
Legitimate
Edgar
,
I
must
have
your
land
.
Our
father’s
love
is
to
the
bastard
Edmund
As
to
th’
legitimate
.
Fine
word
,
legitimate
.
Well
,
my
legitimate
,
if
this
letter
speed
ACT 1. SC. 2
And
my
invention
thrive
,
Edmund
the
base
Shall
top
th’
legitimate
.
I
grow
,
I
prosper
.
Now
,
gods
,
stand
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
?
So
please
your
Lordship
,
none
.
He
puts
a
paper
in
his
pocket
.
Why
so
earnestly
seek
you
to
put
up
that
letter
?
I
know
no
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
.
I
beseech
you
,
sir
,
pardon
me
.
It
is
a
letter
from
my
brother
that
I
have
not
all
o’erread
;
and
for
so
much
as
I
have
perused
,
I
find
it
not
fit
for
your
o’erlooking
.
Give
me
the
letter
,
sir
.
I
shall
offend
either
to
detain
or
give
it
.
The
contents
,
as
in
part
I
understand
them
,
are
to
blame
.
Let’s
see
,
let’s
see
.
Edmund
gives
him
the
paper
.
I
hope
,
for
my
brother’s
justification
,
he
wrote
this
but
as
an
essay
or
taste
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
ACT 1. SC. 2
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
?
It
was
not
brought
me
,
my
lord
;
there’s
the
cunning
of
it
.
I
found
it
thrown
in
at
the
casement
of
my
closet
.
You
know
the
character
to
be
your
brother’s
?
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
.
It
is
his
.
It
is
his
hand
,
my
lord
,
but
I
hope
his
heart
is
not
in
the
contents
.
Has
he
never
before
sounded
you
in
this
business
?
Never
,
my
lord
.
But
I
have
heard
him
oft
maintain
it
to
be
fit
that
,
sons
at
perfect
age
and
fathers
declined
,
the
father
should
be
as
ward
to
the
son
,
and
the
son
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
?
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
ACT 1. SC. 2
you
violently
proceed
against
him
,
mistaking
his
purpose
,
it
would
make
a
great
gap
in
your
own
honor
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
Honor
,
and
to
no
other
pretense
of
danger
.
Think
you
so
?
If
your
Honor
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
.
He
cannot
be
such
a
monster
.
Nor
is
not
,
sure
.
To
his
father
,
that
so
tenderly
and
entirely
loves
him
!
Heaven
and
Earth
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
.
I
will
seek
him
,
sir
,
presently
,
convey
the
business
as
I
shall
find
means
,
and
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 1. SC. 2
This
is
the
excellent
foppery
of
the
world
,
that
when
we
are
sick
in
fortune
(
often
the
surfeits
of
our
own
behavior
)
we
make
guilty
of
our
disasters
the
sun
,
the
moon
,
and
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
enforced
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
villainous
melancholy
,
with
a
sigh
like
Tom
o’
Bedlam
.
—
O
,
these
eclipses
do
portend
these
divisions
.
Fa
,
sol
,
la
,
mi
.
How
now
,
brother
Edmund
,
what
serious
contemplation
are
you
in
?
I
am
thinking
,
brother
,
of
a
prediction
I
read
this
other
day
,
what
should
follow
these
eclipses
.
Do
you
busy
yourself
with
that
?
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
,
banishment
of
friends
,
dissipation
of
cohorts
,
nuptial
breaches
,
and
I
know
not
what
.
How
long
have
you
been
a
sectary
astronomical
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
Come
,
come
,
when
saw
you
my
father
last
?
The
night
gone
by
.
Spake
you
with
him
?
Ay
,
two
hours
together
.
Parted
you
in
good
terms
?
Found
you
no
displeasure
in
him
by
word
nor
countenance
?
None
at
all
.
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
.
Some
villain
hath
done
me
wrong
.
That’s
my
fear
.
I
pray
you
have
a
continent
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
you
go
.
There’s
my
key
.
If
you
do
stir
abroad
,
go
armed
.
Armed
,
brother
?
Brother
,
I
advise
you
to
the
best
.
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
.
Shall
I
hear
from
you
anon
?
I
do
serve
you
in
this
business
.
Edgar
exits
.
A
credulous
father
and
a
brother
noble
,
Whose
nature
is
so
far
from
doing
harms
That
he
suspects
none
;
on
whose
foolish
honesty
My
practices
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
.
He
exits
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
Goneril
and
Oswald
,
her
Steward
.
Did
my
father
strike
my
gentleman
for
chiding
of
his
Fool
?
Ay
,
madam
.
By
day
and
night
he
wrongs
me
.
Every
hour
He
flashes
into
one
gross
crime
or
other
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
.
If
you
come
slack
of
former
services
,
You
shall
do
well
.
The
fault
of
it
I’ll
answer
.
He’s
coming
,
madam
.
I
hear
him
.
Put
on
what
weary
negligence
you
please
,
You
and
your
fellows
.
I’d
have
it
come
to
question
.
If
he
distaste
it
,
let
him
to
my
sister
,
Whose
mind
and
mine
I
know
in
that
are
one
,
Not
to
be
overruled
.
Idle
old
man
That
still
would
manage
those
authorities
That
he
hath
given
away
.
Now
,
by
my
life
,
Old
fools
are
babes
again
and
must
be
used
With
checks
as
flatteries
,
when
they
are
seen
abused
.
Remember
what
I
have
said
.
Well
,
madam
.
And
let
his
knights
have
colder
looks
among
you
.
What
grows
of
it
,
no
matter
.
Advise
your
fellows
so
.
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
.
They
exit
in
different
directions
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Scene
4
Enter
Kent
in
disguise
.
If
but
as
well
I
other
accents
borrow
That
can
my
speech
diffuse
,
my
good
intent
May
carry
through
itself
to
that
full
issue
For
which
I
razed
my
likeness
.
Now
,
banished
Kent
,
If
thou
canst
serve
where
thou
dost
stand
condemned
,
So
may
it
come
thy
master
,
whom
thou
lov’st
,
Shall
find
thee
full
of
labors
.
Horns
within
.
Enter
Lear
,
Knights
,
and
Attendants
.
Let
me
not
stay
a
jot
for
dinner
.
Go
get
it
ready
.
An
Attendant
exits
.
How
now
,
what
art
thou
?
A
man
,
sir
.
What
dost
thou
profess
?
What
wouldst
thou
with
us
?
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
judgment
,
to
fight
when
I
cannot
choose
,
and
to
eat
no
fish
.
What
art
thou
?
A
very
honest-hearted
fellow
,
and
as
poor
as
the
King
.
If
thou
be’st
as
poor
for
a
subject
as
he’s
for
a
king
,
thou
art
poor
enough
.
What
wouldst
thou
?
Service
.
Who
wouldst
thou
serve
?
You
.
Dost
thou
know
me
,
fellow
?
No
,
sir
,
but
you
have
that
in
your
countenance
which
I
would
fain
call
master
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
What’s
that
?
Authority
.
What
services
canst
do
?
I
can
keep
honest
counsel
,
ride
,
run
,
mar
a
curious
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
.
How
old
art
thou
?
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
.
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
.
An
Attendant
exits
.
Enter
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
You
,
you
,
sirrah
,
where’s
my
daughter
?
So
please
you
—
He
exits
.
What
says
the
fellow
there
?
Call
the
clotpole
back
.
A
Knight
exits
.
Where’s
my
Fool
?
Ho
!
I
think
the
world’s
asleep
.
Enter
Knight
again
.
How
now
?
Where’s
that
mongrel
?
He
says
,
my
lord
,
your
daughter
is
not
well
.
Why
came
not
the
slave
back
to
me
when
I
called
him
?
Sir
,
he
answered
me
in
the
roundest
manner
,
he
would
not
.
He
would
not
?
My
lord
,
I
know
not
what
the
matter
is
,
but
to
my
judgment
your
Highness
is
not
entertained
with
that
ceremonious
affection
as
you
were
wont
.
There’s
a
great
abatement
of
kindness
appears
as
ACT 1. SC. 4
well
in
the
general
dependents
as
in
the
Duke
himself
also
,
and
your
daughter
.
Ha
?
Sayst
thou
so
?
I
beseech
you
pardon
me
,
my
lord
,
if
I
be
mistaken
,
for
my
duty
cannot
be
silent
when
I
think
your
Highness
wronged
.
Thou
but
remembrest
me
of
mine
own
conception
.
I
have
perceived
a
most
faint
neglect
of
late
,
which
I
have
rather
blamed
as
mine
own
jealous
curiosity
than
as
a
very
pretense
and
purpose
of
unkindness
.
I
will
look
further
into
’t
.
But
where’s
my
Fool
?
I
have
not
seen
him
this
two
days
.
Since
my
young
lady’s
going
into
France
,
sir
,
the
Fool
hath
much
pined
away
.
No
more
of
that
.
I
have
noted
it
well
.
—
Go
you
and
tell
my
daughter
I
would
speak
with
her
.
An
Attendant
exits
.
Go
you
call
hither
my
Fool
.
Another
exits
.
Enter
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
O
you
,
sir
,
you
,
come
you
hither
,
sir
.
Who
am
I
,
sir
?
My
lady’s
father
.
My
lady’s
father
?
My
lord’s
knave
!
You
whoreson
dog
,
you
slave
,
you
cur
!
I
am
none
of
these
,
my
lord
,
I
beseech
your
pardon
.
Do
you
bandy
looks
with
me
,
you
rascal
?
Lear
strikes
him
.
I’ll
not
be
strucken
,
my
lord
.
,
tripping
him
Nor
tripped
neither
,
you
base
football
player
?
I
thank
thee
,
fellow
.
Thou
serv’st
me
,
and
I’ll
love
thee
.
,
to
Oswald
Come
,
sir
,
arise
.
Away
.
I’ll
teach
you
differences
.
Away
,
away
.
If
you
will
measure
your
lubber’s
length
again
,
tarry
.
But
away
.
Go
to
.
Have
you
wisdom
?
So
.
Oswald
exits
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Now
,
my
friendly
knave
,
I
thank
thee
.
There’s
earnest
of
thy
service
.
He
gives
Kent
a
purse
.
Enter
Fool
.
Let
me
hire
him
too
.
To
Kent
.
Here’s
my
coxcomb
.
He
offers
Kent
his
cap
.
How
now
,
my
pretty
knave
,
how
dost
thou
?
,
to
Kent
Sirrah
,
you
were
best
take
my
coxcomb
.
Why
,
my
boy
?
Why
?
For
taking
one’s
part
that’s
out
of
favor
.
To
Kent
.
Nay
,
an
thou
canst
not
smile
as
the
wind
sits
,
thou
’lt
catch
cold
shortly
.
There
,
take
my
coxcomb
.
Why
,
this
fellow
has
banished
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
.
Why
,
my
boy
?
If
I
gave
them
all
my
living
,
I’d
keep
my
coxcombs
myself
.
There’s
mine
.
Beg
another
of
thy
daughters
.
Take
heed
,
sirrah
—
the
whip
.
Truth’s
a
dog
must
to
kennel
;
he
must
be
whipped
out
,
when
the
Lady
Brach
may
stand
by
th’
fire
and
stink
.
A
pestilent
gall
to
me
!
Sirrah
,
I’ll
teach
thee
a
speech
.
Do
.
Mark
it
,
nuncle
:
Have
more
than
thou
showest
.
Speak
less
than
thou
knowest
,
Lend
less
than
thou
owest
,
Ride
more
than
thou
goest
,
Learn
more
than
thou
trowest
,
Set
less
than
thou
throwest
;
ACT 1. SC. 4
Leave
thy
drink
and
thy
whore
And
keep
in-a-door
,
And
thou
shalt
have
more
Than
two
tens
to
a
score
.
This
is
nothing
,
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
?
Why
no
,
boy
.
Nothing
can
be
made
out
of
nothing
.
,
to
Kent
Prithee
tell
him
,
so
much
the
rent
of
his
land
comes
to
.
He
will
not
believe
a
Fool
.
A
bitter
Fool
!
Dost
know
the
difference
,
my
boy
,
between
a
bitter
fool
and
a
sweet
one
?
No
,
lad
,
teach
me
.
That
lord
that
counseled
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
.
Dost
thou
call
me
fool
,
boy
?
All
thy
other
titles
thou
hast
given
away
.
That
thou
wast
born
with
.
This
is
not
altogether
fool
,
my
lord
.
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
.
What
two
crowns
shall
they
be
?
Why
,
after
I
have
cut
the
egg
i’
th’
middle
and
eat
up
the
meat
,
the
two
crowns
of
the
egg
.
When
thou
ACT 1. SC. 4
clovest
thy
crown
i’
th’
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
whipped
that
first
finds
it
so
.
Sings
.
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
.
When
were
you
wont
to
be
so
full
of
songs
,
sirrah
?
I
have
used
it
,
nuncle
,
e’er
since
thou
mad’st
thy
daughters
thy
mothers
.
For
when
thou
gav’st
them
the
rod
and
put’st
down
thine
own
breeches
,
Sings
.
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
.
An
you
lie
,
sirrah
,
we’ll
have
you
whipped
.
I
marvel
what
kin
thou
and
thy
daughters
are
.
They’ll
have
me
whipped
for
speaking
true
,
thou
’lt
have
me
whipped
for
lying
,
and
sometimes
I
am
whipped
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’
th’
middle
.
Here
comes
one
o’
the
parings
.
Enter
Goneril
.
How
now
,
daughter
?
What
makes
that
frontlet
on
?
Methinks
you
are
too
much
of
late
i’
th’
frown
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
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
Goneril
.
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
.
He
points
at
Lear
.
That’s
a
shelled
peascod
.
Not
only
,
sir
,
this
your
all-licensed
Fool
,
But
other
of
your
insolent
retinue
Do
hourly
carp
and
quarrel
,
breaking
forth
In
rank
and
not-to-be-endurèd
riots
.
Sir
,
I
had
thought
by
making
this
well
known
unto
you
To
have
found
a
safe
redress
,
but
now
grow
fearful
,
By
what
yourself
too
late
have
spoke
and
done
,
That
you
protect
this
course
and
put
it
on
By
your
allowance
;
which
if
you
should
,
the
fault
Would
not
’scape
censure
,
nor
the
redresses
sleep
Which
in
the
tender
of
a
wholesome
weal
Might
in
their
working
do
you
that
offense
,
Which
else
were
shame
,
that
then
necessity
Will
call
discreet
proceeding
.
For
you
know
,
nuncle
,
The
hedge-sparrow
fed
the
cuckoo
so
long
,
That
it’s
had
it
head
bit
off
by
it
young
.
So
out
went
the
candle
,
and
we
were
left
darkling
.
Are
you
our
daughter
?
I
would
you
would
make
use
of
your
good
wisdom
,
Whereof
I
know
you
are
fraught
,
and
put
away
These
dispositions
which
of
late
transport
you
From
what
you
rightly
are
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
May
not
an
ass
know
when
the
cart
draws
the
horse
?
Whoop
,
Jug
,
I
love
thee
!
Does
any
here
know
me
?
This
is
not
Lear
.
Does
Lear
walk
thus
,
speak
thus
?
Where
are
his
eyes
?
Either
his
notion
weakens
,
his
discernings
Are
lethargied
—
Ha
!
Waking
?
’Tis
not
so
.
Who
is
it
that
can
tell
me
who
I
am
?
Lear’s
shadow
.
I
would
learn
that
,
for
,
by
the
marks
of
sovereignty
,
Knowledge
,
and
reason
,
I
should
be
false
persuaded
I
had
daughters
.
Which
they
will
make
an
obedient
father
.
Your
name
,
fair
gentlewoman
?
This
admiration
,
sir
,
is
much
o’
th’
savor
Of
other
your
new
pranks
.
I
do
beseech
you
To
understand
my
purposes
aright
.
As
you
are
old
and
reverend
,
should
be
wise
.
Here
do
you
keep
a
hundred
knights
and
squires
,
Men
so
disordered
,
so
debauched
and
bold
,
That
this
our
court
,
infected
with
their
manners
,
Shows
like
a
riotous
inn
.
Epicurism
and
lust
Makes
it
more
like
a
tavern
or
a
brothel
Than
a
graced
palace
.
The
shame
itself
doth
speak
For
instant
remedy
.
Be
then
desired
,
By
her
that
else
will
take
the
thing
she
begs
,
A
little
to
disquantity
your
train
,
And
the
remainders
that
shall
still
depend
To
be
such
men
as
may
besort
your
age
,
Which
know
themselves
and
you
.
Darkness
and
devils
!
—
Saddle
my
horses
.
Call
my
train
together
.
Some
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Degenerate
bastard
,
I’ll
not
trouble
thee
.
Yet
have
I
left
a
daughter
.
You
strike
my
people
,
and
your
disordered
rabble
Make
servants
of
their
betters
.
Enter
Albany
.
Woe
that
too
late
repents
!
—
O
,
sir
,
are
you
come
?
Is
it
your
will
?
Speak
,
sir
.
—
Prepare
my
horses
.
Some
exit
.
Ingratitude
,
thou
marble-hearted
fiend
,
More
hideous
when
thou
show’st
thee
in
a
child
Than
the
sea
monster
!
Pray
,
sir
,
be
patient
.
,
to
Goneril
Detested
kite
,
thou
liest
.
My
train
are
men
of
choice
and
rarest
parts
,
That
all
particulars
of
duty
know
And
in
the
most
exact
regard
support
The
worships
of
their
name
.
O
most
small
fault
,
How
ugly
didst
thou
in
Cordelia
show
,
Which
,
like
an
engine
,
wrenched
my
frame
of
nature
From
the
fixed
place
,
drew
from
my
heart
all
love
And
added
to
the
gall
!
O
Lear
,
Lear
,
Lear
!
He
strikes
his
head
.
Beat
at
this
gate
that
let
thy
folly
in
And
thy
dear
judgment
out
.
Go
,
go
,
my
people
.
Some
exit
.
My
lord
,
I
am
guiltless
as
I
am
ignorant
Of
what
hath
moved
you
.
It
may
be
so
,
my
lord
.
—
Hear
,
Nature
,
hear
,
dear
goddess
,
hear
!
Suspend
thy
purpose
if
thou
didst
intend
ACT 1. SC. 4
To
make
this
creature
fruitful
.
Into
her
womb
convey
sterility
.
Dry
up
in
her
the
organs
of
increase
,
And
from
her
derogate
body
never
spring
A
babe
to
honor
her
.
If
she
must
teem
,
Create
her
child
of
spleen
,
that
it
may
live
And
be
a
thwart
disnatured
torment
to
her
.
Let
it
stamp
wrinkles
in
her
brow
of
youth
,
With
cadent
tears
fret
channels
in
her
cheeks
,
Turn
all
her
mother’s
pains
and
benefits
To
laughter
and
contempt
,
that
she
may
feel
How
sharper
than
a
serpent’s
tooth
it
is
To
have
a
thankless
child
.
—
Away
,
away
!
Lear
and
the
rest
of
his
train
exit
.
Now
,
gods
that
we
adore
,
whereof
comes
this
?
Never
afflict
yourself
to
know
more
of
it
,
But
let
his
disposition
have
that
scope
As
dotage
gives
it
.
Enter
Lear
and
the
Fool
.
What
,
fifty
of
my
followers
at
a
clap
?
Within
a
fortnight
?
What’s
the
matter
,
sir
?
I’ll
tell
thee
.
To
Goneril
.
Life
and
death
!
I
am
ashamed
That
thou
hast
power
to
shake
my
manhood
thus
,
That
these
hot
tears
,
which
break
from
me
perforce
,
Should
make
thee
worth
them
.
Blasts
and
fogs
upon
thee
!
Th’
untented
woundings
of
a
father’s
curse
Pierce
every
sense
about
thee
!
Old
fond
eyes
,
Beweep
this
cause
again
,
I’ll
pluck
you
out
ACT 1. SC. 4
And
cast
you
,
with
the
waters
that
you
loose
,
To
temper
clay
.
Yea
,
is
’t
come
to
this
?
Ha
!
Let
it
be
so
.
I
have
another
daughter
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
I
have
cast
off
forever
.
He
exits
.
Do
you
mark
that
?
I
cannot
be
so
partial
,
Goneril
,
To
the
great
love
I
bear
you
—
Pray
you
,
content
.
—
What
,
Oswald
,
ho
!
—
You
,
sir
,
more
knave
than
Fool
,
after
your
master
.
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
.
He
exits
.
This
man
hath
had
good
counsel
.
A
hundred
knights
!
’Tis
politic
and
safe
to
let
him
keep
At
point
a
hundred
knights
!
Yes
,
that
on
every
dream
,
Each
buzz
,
each
fancy
,
each
complaint
,
dislike
,
He
may
enguard
his
dotage
with
their
powers
And
hold
our
lives
in
mercy
.
—
Oswald
,
I
say
!
Well
,
you
may
fear
too
far
.
Safer
than
trust
too
far
.
Let
me
still
take
away
the
harms
I
fear
,
Not
fear
still
to
be
taken
.
I
know
his
heart
.
What
he
hath
uttered
I
have
writ
my
sister
.
If
she
sustain
him
and
his
hundred
knights
When
I
have
showed
th’
unfitness
—
ACT 1. SC. 5
Enter
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
How
now
,
Oswald
?
What
,
have
you
writ
that
letter
to
my
sister
?
Ay
,
madam
.
Take
you
some
company
and
away
to
horse
.
Inform
her
full
of
my
particular
fear
,
And
thereto
add
such
reasons
of
your
own
As
may
compact
it
more
.
Get
you
gone
,
And
hasten
your
return
.
Oswald
exits
.
No
,
no
,
my
lord
,
This
milky
gentleness
and
course
of
yours
,
Though
I
condemn
not
,
yet
,
under
pardon
,
You
are
much
more
at
task
for
want
of
wisdom
Than
praised
for
harmful
mildness
.
How
far
your
eyes
may
pierce
I
cannot
tell
.
Striving
to
better
,
oft
we
mar
what’s
well
.
Nay
,
then
—
Well
,
well
,
th’
event
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
Lear
,
Kent
in
disguise
,
Gentleman
,
and
Fool
.
,
to
Kent
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
.
I
will
not
sleep
,
my
lord
,
till
I
have
delivered
your
letter
.
He
exits
.
If
a
man’s
brains
were
in
’s
heels
,
were
’t
not
in
danger
of
kibes
?
Ay
,
boy
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
Then
,
I
prithee
,
be
merry
;
thy
wit
shall
not
go
slipshod
.
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
Shalt
see
thy
other
daughter
will
use
thee
kindly
,
for
,
though
she’s
as
like
this
as
a
crab’s
like
an
apple
,
yet
I
can
tell
what
I
can
tell
.
What
canst
tell
,
boy
?
She
will
taste
as
like
this
as
a
crab
does
to
a
crab
.
Thou
canst
tell
why
one’s
nose
stands
i’
th’
middle
on
’s
face
?
No
.
Why
,
to
keep
one’s
eyes
of
either
side
’s
nose
,
that
what
a
man
cannot
smell
out
he
may
spy
into
.
I
did
her
wrong
.
Canst
tell
how
an
oyster
makes
his
shell
?
No
.
Nor
I
neither
.
But
I
can
tell
why
a
snail
has
a
house
.
Why
?
Why
,
to
put
’s
head
in
,
not
to
give
it
away
to
his
daughters
and
leave
his
horns
without
a
case
.
I
will
forget
my
nature
.
So
kind
a
father
!
—
Be
my
horses
ready
?
Gentleman
exits
.
Thy
asses
are
gone
about
’em
.
The
reason
why
the
seven
stars
are
no
more
than
seven
is
a
pretty
reason
.
Because
they
are
not
eight
.
Yes
,
indeed
.
Thou
wouldst
make
a
good
Fool
.
To
take
’t
again
perforce
!
Monster
ingratitude
!
If
thou
wert
my
Fool
,
nuncle
,
I’d
have
thee
beaten
for
being
old
before
thy
time
.
How’s
that
?
Thou
shouldst
not
have
been
old
till
thou
hadst
been
wise
.
O
,
let
me
not
be
mad
,
not
mad
,
sweet
heaven
!
Keep
me
in
temper
.
I
would
not
be
mad
!
ACT 1. SC. 5
Enter
Gentleman
.
How
now
,
are
the
horses
ready
?
Ready
,
my
lord
.
Come
,
boy
.
She
that’s
a
maid
now
and
laughs
at
my
departure
,
Shall
not
be
a
maid
long
,
unless
things
be
cut
shorter
.
They
exit
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
Edmund
,
the
Bastard
and
Curan
,
severally
.
Save
thee
,
Curan
.
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
.
How
comes
that
?
Nay
,
I
know
not
.
You
have
heard
of
the
news
abroad
?
—
I
mean
the
whispered
ones
,
for
they
are
yet
but
ear-kissing
arguments
.
Not
I
.
Pray
you
,
what
are
they
?
Have
you
heard
of
no
likely
wars
toward
’twixt
the
dukes
of
Cornwall
and
Albany
?
Not
a
word
.
You
may
do
,
then
,
in
time
.
Fare
you
well
,
sir
.
He
exits
.
The
Duke
be
here
tonight
?
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
Which
I
must
act
.
Briefness
and
fortune
work
!
—
Brother
,
a
word
.
Descend
.
Brother
,
I
say
!
Enter
Edgar
.
My
father
watches
.
O
sir
,
fly
this
place
!
ACT 2. SC. 1
Intelligence
is
given
where
you
are
hid
.
You
have
now
the
good
advantage
of
the
night
.
Have
you
not
spoken
’gainst
the
Duke
of
Cornwall
?
He’s
coming
hither
,
now
,
i’
th’
night
,
i’
th’
haste
,
And
Regan
with
him
.
Have
you
nothing
said
Upon
his
party
’gainst
the
Duke
of
Albany
?
Advise
yourself
.
I
am
sure
on
’t
,
not
a
word
.
I
hear
my
father
coming
.
Pardon
me
.
In
cunning
I
must
draw
my
sword
upon
you
.
Draw
.
Seem
to
defend
yourself
.
Now
,
quit
you
well
.
They
draw
.
Yield
!
Come
before
my
father
!
Light
,
hoa
,
here
!
Aside
to
Edgar
.
Fly
,
brother
.
—
Torches
,
torches
!
—
So
,
farewell
.
Edgar
exits
.
Some
blood
drawn
on
me
would
beget
opinion
Of
my
more
fierce
endeavor
.
I
have
seen
drunkards
Do
more
than
this
in
sport
.
He
wounds
his
arm
.
Father
,
father
!
Stop
,
stop
!
No
help
?
Enter
Gloucester
,
and
Servants
with
torches
.
Now
,
Edmund
,
where’s
the
villain
?
Here
stood
he
in
the
dark
,
his
sharp
sword
out
,
Mumbling
of
wicked
charms
,
conjuring
the
moon
To
stand
auspicious
mistress
.
But
where
is
he
?
Look
,
sir
,
I
bleed
.
Where
is
the
villain
,
Edmund
?
Fled
this
way
,
sir
,
when
by
no
means
he
could
—
ACT 2. SC. 1
Pursue
him
,
ho
!
Go
after
.
Servants
exit
.
By
no
means
what
?
Persuade
me
to
the
murder
of
your
Lordship
,
But
that
I
told
him
the
revenging
gods
’Gainst
parricides
did
all
the
thunder
bend
,
Spoke
with
how
manifold
and
strong
a
bond
The
child
was
bound
to
th’
father
—
sir
,
in
fine
,
Seeing
how
loathly
opposite
I
stood
To
his
unnatural
purpose
,
in
fell
motion
With
his
preparèd
sword
he
charges
home
My
unprovided
body
,
lanced
mine
arm
;
And
when
he
saw
my
best
alarumed
spirits
,
Bold
in
the
quarrel’s
right
,
roused
to
th’
encounter
,
Or
whether
ghasted
by
the
noise
I
made
,
Full
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
.
When
I
dissuaded
him
from
his
intent
And
found
him
pight
to
do
it
,
with
curst
speech
I
threatened
to
discover
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
Make
thy
words
faithed
?
No
.
What
I
should
deny
—
As
this
I
would
,
though
thou
didst
produce
ACT 2. SC. 1
My
very
character
—
I’d
turn
it
all
To
thy
suggestion
,
plot
,
and
damnèd
practice
.
And
thou
must
make
a
dullard
of
the
world
If
they
not
thought
the
profits
of
my
death
Were
very
pregnant
and
potential
spurs
spirits
To
make
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
.
Enter
Cornwall
,
Regan
,
and
Attendants
.
How
now
,
my
noble
friend
?
Since
I
came
hither
,
Which
I
can
call
but
now
,
I
have
heard
strange
news
.
If
it
be
true
,
all
vengeance
comes
too
short
Which
can
pursue
th’
offender
.
How
dost
,
my
lord
?
O
madam
,
my
old
heart
is
cracked
;
it’s
cracked
.
What
,
did
my
father’s
godson
seek
your
life
?
He
whom
my
father
named
,
your
Edgar
?
O
lady
,
lady
,
shame
would
have
it
hid
!
Was
he
not
companion
with
the
riotous
knights
That
tended
upon
my
father
?
ACT 2. SC. 1
I
know
not
,
madam
.
’Tis
too
bad
,
too
bad
.
Yes
,
madam
,
he
was
of
that
consort
.
No
marvel
,
then
,
though
he
were
ill
affected
.
’Tis
they
have
put
him
on
the
old
man’s
death
,
To
have
th’
expense
and
waste
of
his
revenues
.
I
have
this
present
evening
from
my
sister
Been
well
informed
of
them
,
and
with
such
cautions
That
if
they
come
to
sojourn
at
my
house
I’ll
not
be
there
.
Nor
I
,
assure
thee
,
Regan
.
—
Edmund
,
I
hear
that
you
have
shown
your
father
A
childlike
office
.
It
was
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
.
If
he
be
taken
,
he
shall
never
more
Be
feared
of
doing
harm
.
Make
your
own
purpose
,
How
in
my
strength
you
please
.
—
For
you
,
Edmund
,
Whose
virtue
and
obedience
doth
this
instant
So
much
commend
itself
,
you
shall
be
ours
.
Natures
of
such
deep
trust
we
shall
much
need
.
You
we
first
seize
on
.
I
shall
serve
you
,
sir
,
Truly
,
however
else
.
For
him
I
thank
your
Grace
.
You
know
not
why
we
came
to
visit
you
—
Thus
out
of
season
,
threading
dark-eyed
night
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Occasions
,
noble
Gloucester
,
of
some
poise
,
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
To
answer
from
our
home
.
The
several
messengers
From
hence
attend
dispatch
.
Our
good
old
friend
,
Lay
comforts
to
your
bosom
and
bestow
Your
needful
counsel
to
our
businesses
,
Which
craves
the
instant
use
.
I
serve
you
,
madam
.
Your
Graces
are
right
welcome
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Kent
in
disguise
and
Oswald
,
the
Steward
,
severally
.
Good
dawning
to
thee
,
friend
.
Art
of
this
house
?
Ay
.
Where
may
we
set
our
horses
?
I’
th’
mire
.
Prithee
,
if
thou
lov’st
me
,
tell
me
.
I
love
thee
not
.
Why
then
,
I
care
not
for
thee
.
If
I
had
thee
in
Lipsbury
pinfold
,
I
would
make
thee
care
for
me
.
Why
dost
thou
use
me
thus
?
I
know
thee
not
.
Fellow
,
I
know
thee
.
What
dost
thou
know
me
for
?
A
knave
,
a
rascal
,
an
eater
of
broken
meats
;
a
base
,
proud
,
shallow
,
beggarly
,
three-suited
,
hundred-pound
,
filthy
worsted-stocking
knave
;
a
lily-livered
,
action-taking
,
whoreson
,
glass-gazing
,
superserviceable
,
finical
rogue
;
one-trunk-inheriting
ACT 2. SC. 2
slave
;
one
that
wouldst
be
a
bawd
in
way
of
good
service
,
and
art
nothing
but
the
composition
of
a
knave
,
beggar
,
coward
,
pander
,
and
the
son
and
heir
of
a
mongrel
bitch
;
one
whom
I
will
beat
into
clamorous
whining
if
thou
deny’st
the
least
syllable
of
thy
addition
.
Why
,
what
a
monstrous
fellow
art
thou
thus
to
rail
on
one
that
is
neither
known
of
thee
nor
knows
thee
!
What
a
brazen-faced
varlet
art
thou
to
deny
thou
knowest
me
!
Is
it
two
days
ago
since
I
tripped
up
thy
heels
and
beat
thee
before
the
King
?
He
draws
his
sword
.
Draw
,
you
rogue
,
for
though
it
be
night
,
yet
the
moon
shines
.
I’ll
make
a
sop
o’
th’
moonshine
of
you
,
you
whoreson
,
cullionly
barbermonger
.
Draw
!
Away
!
I
have
nothing
to
do
with
thee
.
Draw
,
you
rascal
!
You
come
with
letters
against
the
King
and
take
Vanity
the
puppet’s
part
against
the
royalty
of
her
father
.
Draw
,
you
rogue
,
or
I’ll
so
carbonado
your
shanks
!
Draw
,
you
rascal
!
Come
your
ways
.
Help
,
ho
!
Murder
!
Help
!
Strike
,
you
slave
!
Stand
,
rogue
!
Stand
,
you
neat
slave
!
Strike
!
He
beats
Oswald
.
Help
,
ho
!
Murder
,
murder
!
Enter
Bastard
Edmund
,
with
his
rapier
drawn
,
Cornwall
,
Regan
,
Gloucester
,
Servants
.
How
now
,
what’s
the
matter
?
Part
!
With
you
,
goodman
boy
,
if
you
please
.
Come
,
I’ll
flesh
you
.
Come
on
,
young
master
.
Weapons
?
Arms
?
What’s
the
matter
here
?
Keep
peace
,
upon
your
lives
!
He
dies
that
strikes
again
.
What
is
the
matter
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
The
messengers
from
our
sister
and
the
King
.
What
is
your
difference
?
Speak
.
I
am
scarce
in
breath
,
my
lord
.
No
marvel
,
you
have
so
bestirred
your
valor
.
You
cowardly
rascal
,
nature
disclaims
in
thee
;
a
tailor
made
thee
.
Thou
art
a
strange
fellow
.
A
tailor
make
a
man
?
A
tailor
,
sir
.
A
stonecutter
or
a
painter
could
not
have
made
him
so
ill
,
though
they
had
been
but
two
years
o’
th’
trade
.
Speak
yet
,
how
grew
your
quarrel
?
This
ancient
ruffian
,
sir
,
whose
life
I
have
spared
at
suit
of
his
gray
beard
—
Thou
whoreson
zed
,
thou
unnecessary
letter
!
—
My
lord
,
if
you
will
give
me
leave
,
I
will
tread
this
unbolted
villain
into
mortar
and
daub
the
wall
of
a
jakes
with
him
.
—
Spare
my
gray
beard
,
you
wagtail
?
Peace
,
sirrah
!
You
beastly
knave
,
know
you
no
reverence
?
Yes
,
sir
,
but
anger
hath
a
privilege
.
Why
art
thou
angry
?
That
such
a
slave
as
this
should
wear
a
sword
,
Who
wears
no
honesty
.
Such
smiling
rogues
as
these
,
Like
rats
,
oft
bite
the
holy
cords
atwain
Which
are
too
intrinse
t’
unloose
;
smooth
every
passion
That
in
the
natures
of
their
lords
rebel
—
,
Being
oil
to
fire
,
snow
to
the
colder
moods
—
,
Renege
,
affirm
,
and
turn
their
halcyon
beaks
With
every
gale
and
vary
of
their
masters
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
Knowing
naught
,
like
dogs
,
but
following
.
—
A
plague
upon
your
epileptic
visage
!
Smile
you
my
speeches
,
as
I
were
a
fool
?
Goose
,
if
I
had
you
upon
Sarum
plain
,
I’d
drive
you
cackling
home
to
Camelot
.
What
,
art
thou
mad
,
old
fellow
?
How
fell
you
out
?
Say
that
.
No
contraries
hold
more
antipathy
Than
I
and
such
a
knave
.
Why
dost
thou
call
him
knave
?
What
is
his
fault
?
His
countenance
likes
me
not
.
No
more
,
perchance
,
does
mine
,
nor
his
,
nor
hers
.
Sir
,
’tis
my
occupation
to
be
plain
:
I
have
seen
better
faces
in
my
time
Than
stands
on
any
shoulder
that
I
see
Before
me
at
this
instant
.
This
is
some
fellow
Who
,
having
been
praised
for
bluntness
,
doth
affect
A
saucy
roughness
and
constrains
the
garb
Quite
from
his
nature
.
He
cannot
flatter
,
he
.
An
honest
mind
and
plain
,
he
must
speak
truth
!
An
they
will
take
it
,
so
;
if
not
,
he’s
plain
.
These
kind
of
knaves
I
know
,
which
in
this
plainness
Harbor
more
craft
and
more
corrupter
ends
Than
twenty
silly-ducking
observants
That
stretch
their
duties
nicely
.
Sir
,
in
good
faith
,
in
sincere
verity
,
Under
th’
allowance
of
your
great
aspect
,
Whose
influence
,
like
the
wreath
of
radiant
fire
On
flick’ring
Phoebus’
front
—
ACT 2. SC. 2
What
mean’st
by
this
?
To
go
out
of
my
dialect
,
which
you
discommend
so
much
.
I
know
,
sir
,
I
am
no
flatterer
.
He
that
beguiled
you
in
a
plain
accent
was
a
plain
knave
,
which
for
my
part
I
will
not
be
,
though
I
should
win
your
displeasure
to
entreat
me
to
’t
.
,
to
Oswald
What
was
th’
offense
you
gave
him
?
I
never
gave
him
any
.
It
pleased
the
King
his
master
very
late
To
strike
at
me
,
upon
his
misconstruction
;
When
he
,
compact
,
and
flattering
his
displeasure
,
Tripped
me
behind
;
being
down
,
insulted
,
railed
,
And
put
upon
him
such
a
deal
of
man
That
worthied
him
,
got
praises
of
the
King
For
him
attempting
who
was
self-subdued
;
And
in
the
fleshment
of
this
dread
exploit
,
Drew
on
me
here
again
.
None
of
these
rogues
and
cowards
But
Ajax
is
their
fool
.
Fetch
forth
the
stocks
.
—
You
stubborn
ancient
knave
,
you
reverent
braggart
,
We’ll
teach
you
.
Sir
,
I
am
too
old
to
learn
.
Call
not
your
stocks
for
me
.
I
serve
the
King
,
On
whose
employment
I
was
sent
to
you
.
You
shall
do
small
respect
,
show
too
bold
malice
Against
the
grace
and
person
of
my
master
,
Stocking
his
messenger
.
Fetch
forth
the
stocks
.
—
As
I
have
life
and
honor
,
There
shall
he
sit
till
noon
.
Till
noon
?
Till
night
,
my
lord
,
and
all
night
,
too
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Why
,
madam
,
if
I
were
your
father’s
dog
,
You
should
not
use
me
so
.
Sir
,
being
his
knave
,
I
will
.
This
is
a
fellow
of
the
selfsame
color
Our
sister
speaks
of
.
—
Come
,
bring
away
the
stocks
.
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
.
I’ll
answer
that
.
My
sister
may
receive
it
much
more
worse
To
have
her
gentleman
abused
,
assaulted
For
following
her
affairs
.
—
Put
in
his
legs
.
Kent
is
put
in
the
stocks
.
Come
,
my
good
lord
,
away
.
All
but
Gloucester
and
Kent
exit
.
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
.
Pray
,
do
not
,
sir
.
I
have
watched
and
traveled
hard
.
Some
time
I
shall
sleep
out
;
the
rest
I’ll
whistle
.
A
good
man’s
fortune
may
grow
out
at
heels
.
Give
you
good
morrow
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
The
Duke’s
to
blame
in
this
.
’Twill
be
ill
taken
.
He
exits
.
Good
king
,
that
must
approve
the
common
saw
,
Thou
out
of
heaven’s
benediction
com’st
To
the
warm
sun
.
He
takes
out
a
paper
.
Approach
,
thou
beacon
to
this
under
globe
,
That
by
thy
comfortable
beams
I
may
Peruse
this
letter
.
Nothing
almost
sees
miracles
But
misery
.
I
know
’tis
from
Cordelia
,
Who
hath
most
fortunately
been
informed
Of
my
obscurèd
course
,
and
shall
find
time
From
this
enormous
state
,
seeking
to
give
Losses
their
remedies
.
All
weary
and
o’erwatched
,
Take
vantage
,
heavy
eyes
,
not
to
behold
This
shameful
lodging
.
Fortune
,
good
night
.
Smile
once
more
;
turn
thy
wheel
.
Sleeps
.
Scene
3
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
ACT 2. SC. 4
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
.
Scene
4
Enter
Lear
,
Fool
,
and
Gentleman
.
’Tis
strange
that
they
should
so
depart
from
home
And
not
send
back
my
messenger
.
As
I
learned
,
The
night
before
there
was
no
purpose
in
them
Of
this
remove
.
,
waking
Hail
to
thee
,
noble
master
.
Ha
?
Mak’st
thou
this
shame
thy
pastime
?
No
,
my
lord
.
Ha
,
ha
,
he
wears
cruel
garters
.
Horses
are
tied
by
the
heads
,
dogs
and
bears
by
th’
neck
,
monkeys
by
th’
loins
,
and
men
by
th’
legs
.
When
a
man’s
overlusty
at
legs
,
then
he
wears
wooden
netherstocks
.
What’s
he
that
hath
so
much
thy
place
mistook
To
set
thee
here
?
It
is
both
he
and
she
,
Your
son
and
daughter
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
No
.
Yes
.
No
,
I
say
.
I
say
yea
.
By
Jupiter
,
I
swear
no
.
By
Juno
,
I
swear
ay
.
They
durst
not
do
’t
.
They
could
not
,
would
not
do
’t
.
’Tis
worse
than
murder
To
do
upon
respect
such
violent
outrage
.
Resolve
me
with
all
modest
haste
which
way
Thou
might’st
deserve
or
they
impose
this
usage
,
Coming
from
us
.
My
lord
,
when
at
their
home
I
did
commend
your
Highness’
letters
to
them
,
Ere
I
was
risen
from
the
place
that
showed
My
duty
kneeling
,
came
there
a
reeking
post
,
Stewed
in
his
haste
,
half
breathless
,
panting
forth
From
Goneril
his
mistress
salutations
;
Delivered
letters
,
spite
of
intermission
,
Which
presently
they
read
;
on
whose
contents
They
summoned
up
their
meiny
,
straight
took
horse
,
Commanded
me
to
follow
and
attend
The
leisure
of
their
answer
,
gave
me
cold
looks
;
And
meeting
here
the
other
messenger
,
Whose
welcome
,
I
perceived
,
had
poisoned
mine
,
Being
the
very
fellow
which
of
late
Displayed
so
saucily
against
your
Highness
,
Having
more
man
than
wit
about
me
,
drew
.
He
raised
the
house
with
loud
and
coward
cries
.
Your
son
and
daughter
found
this
trespass
worth
The
shame
which
here
it
suffers
.
Winter’s
not
gone
yet
if
the
wild
geese
fly
that
way
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Fathers
that
wear
rags
Do
make
their
children
blind
,
But
fathers
that
bear
bags
Shall
see
their
children
kind
.
Fortune
,
that
arrant
whore
,
Ne’er
turns
the
key
to
th’
poor
.
But
,
for
all
this
,
thou
shalt
have
as
many
dolors
for
thy
daughters
as
thou
canst
tell
in
a
year
.
O
,
how
this
mother
swells
up
toward
my
heart
!
Hysterica
passio
,
down
,
thou
climbing
sorrow
!
Thy
element’s
below
.
—
Where
is
this
daughter
?
With
the
Earl
,
sir
,
here
within
.
,
to
Fool
and
Gentleman
Follow
me
not
.
Stay
here
.
He
exits
.
Made
you
no
more
offense
but
what
you
speak
of
?
None
.
How
chance
the
King
comes
with
so
small
a
number
?
An
thou
hadst
been
set
i’
th’
stocks
for
that
question
,
thou
’dst
well
deserved
it
.
Why
,
Fool
?
We’ll
set
thee
to
school
to
an
ant
to
teach
thee
there’s
no
laboring
i’
th’
winter
.
All
that
follow
their
noses
are
led
by
their
eyes
but
blind
men
,
and
there’s
not
a
nose
among
twenty
but
can
smell
him
that’s
stinking
.
Let
go
thy
hold
when
a
great
wheel
runs
down
a
hill
lest
it
break
thy
neck
with
following
;
but
the
great
one
that
goes
upward
,
let
him
draw
thee
after
.
When
a
wise
man
gives
thee
better
counsel
,
give
me
mine
again
.
I
would
have
none
but
knaves
follow
it
,
since
a
Fool
gives
it
.
That
sir
which
serves
and
And
seeks
for
gain
,
And
follows
but
for
form
,
Will
pack
when
it
begins
to
rain
ACT 2. SC. 4
And
leave
thee
in
the
storm
.
But
I
will
tarry
;
the
Fool
will
stay
,
And
let
the
wise
man
fly
.
The
knave
turns
fool
that
runs
away
;
The
Fool
no
knave
,
perdie
.
Where
learned
you
this
,
Fool
?
Not
i’
th’
stocks
,
fool
.
Enter
Lear
and
Gloucester
.
Deny
to
speak
with
me
?
They
are
sick
?
They
are
weary
?
They
have
traveled
all
the
night
?
Mere
fetches
,
The
images
of
revolt
and
flying
off
.
Fetch
me
a
better
answer
.
My
dear
lord
,
You
know
the
fiery
quality
of
the
Duke
,
How
unremovable
and
fixed
he
is
In
his
own
course
.
Vengeance
,
plague
,
death
,
confusion
!
Fiery
?
What
quality
?
Why
Gloucester
,
Gloucester
,
I’d
speak
with
the
Duke
of
Cornwall
and
his
wife
.
Well
,
my
good
lord
,
I
have
informed
them
so
.
Informed
them
?
Dost
thou
understand
me
,
man
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
The
King
would
speak
with
Cornwall
.
The
dear
father
Would
with
his
daughter
speak
,
commands
,
tends
service
.
Are
they
informed
of
this
?
My
breath
and
blood
!
ACT 2. SC. 4
Fiery
?
The
fiery
duke
?
Tell
the
hot
duke
that
—
No
,
but
not
yet
.
Maybe
he
is
not
well
.
Infirmity
doth
still
neglect
all
office
Whereto
our
health
is
bound
.
We
are
not
ourselves
When
nature
,
being
oppressed
,
commands
the
mind
To
suffer
with
the
body
.
I’ll
forbear
,
And
am
fallen
out
with
my
more
headier
will
,
To
take
the
indisposed
and
sickly
fit
For
the
sound
man
.
Noticing
Kent
again
.
Death
on
my
state
!
Wherefore
Should
he
sit
here
?
This
act
persuades
me
That
this
remotion
of
the
Duke
and
her
Is
practice
only
.
Give
me
my
servant
forth
.
Go
tell
the
Duke
and
’s
wife
I’d
speak
with
them
.
Now
,
presently
,
bid
them
come
forth
and
hear
me
,
Or
at
their
chamber
door
I’ll
beat
the
drum
Till
it
cry
sleep
to
death
.
I
would
have
all
well
betwixt
you
.
He
exits
.
O
me
,
my
heart
,
my
rising
heart
!
But
down
!
Cry
to
it
,
nuncle
,
as
the
cockney
did
to
the
eels
when
she
put
’em
i’
th’
paste
alive
.
She
knapped
’em
o’
th’
coxcombs
with
a
stick
and
cried
Down
,
wantons
,
down
!
’Twas
her
brother
that
in
pure
kindness
to
his
horse
buttered
his
hay
.
Enter
Cornwall
,
Regan
,
Gloucester
,
Servants
.
Good
morrow
to
you
both
.
Hail
to
your
Grace
.
Kent
here
set
at
liberty
.
I
am
glad
to
see
your
Highness
.
Regan
,
I
think
you
are
.
I
know
what
reason
I
have
to
think
so
:
if
thou
shouldst
not
be
glad
,
I
would
divorce
me
from
thy
mother’s
tomb
,
ACT 2. SC. 4
Sepulch’ring
an
adult’ress
.
To
Kent
.
O
,
are
you
free
?
Some
other
time
for
that
.
—
Belovèd
Regan
,
Thy
sister’s
naught
.
O
Regan
,
she
hath
tied
Sharp-toothed
unkindness
,
like
a
vulture
,
here
.
I
can
scarce
speak
to
thee
.
Thou
’lt
not
believe
With
how
depraved
a
quality
—
O
Regan
!
I
pray
you
,
sir
,
take
patience
.
I
have
hope
You
less
know
how
to
value
her
desert
Than
she
to
scant
her
duty
.
Say
?
How
is
that
?
I
cannot
think
my
sister
in
the
least
Would
fail
her
obligation
.
If
,
sir
,
perchance
She
have
restrained
the
riots
of
your
followers
,
’Tis
on
such
ground
and
to
such
wholesome
end
As
clears
her
from
all
blame
.
My
curses
on
her
.
O
sir
,
you
are
old
.
Nature
in
you
stands
on
the
very
verge
Of
his
confine
.
You
should
be
ruled
and
led
By
some
discretion
that
discerns
your
state
Better
than
you
yourself
.
Therefore
,
I
pray
you
That
to
our
sister
you
do
make
return
.
Say
you
have
wronged
her
.
Ask
her
forgiveness
?
Do
you
but
mark
how
this
becomes
the
house
:
He
kneels
.
Dear
daughter
,
I
confess
that
I
am
old
.
Age
is
unnecessary
.
On
my
knees
I
beg
That
you’ll
vouchsafe
me
raiment
,
bed
,
and
food
.
Good
sir
,
no
more
.
These
are
unsightly
tricks
.
Return
you
to
my
sister
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
,
rising
Never
,
Regan
.
She
hath
abated
me
of
half
my
train
,
Looked
black
upon
me
,
struck
me
with
her
tongue
Most
serpentlike
upon
the
very
heart
.
All
the
stored
vengeances
of
heaven
fall
On
her
ingrateful
top
!
Strike
her
young
bones
,
You
taking
airs
,
with
lameness
!
Fie
,
sir
,
fie
!
You
nimble
lightnings
,
dart
your
blinding
flames
Into
her
scornful
eyes
!
Infect
her
beauty
,
You
fen-sucked
fogs
drawn
by
the
powerful
sun
To
fall
and
blister
!
O
,
the
blest
gods
!
So
will
you
wish
on
me
When
the
rash
mood
is
on
.
No
,
Regan
,
thou
shalt
never
have
my
curse
.
Thy
tender-hefted
nature
shall
not
give
Thee
o’er
to
harshness
.
Her
eyes
are
fierce
,
but
thine
Do
comfort
and
not
burn
.
’Tis
not
in
thee
To
grudge
my
pleasures
,
to
cut
off
my
train
,
To
bandy
hasty
words
,
to
scant
my
sizes
,
And
,
in
conclusion
,
to
oppose
the
bolt
Against
my
coming
in
.
Thou
better
know’st
The
offices
of
nature
,
bond
of
childhood
,
Effects
of
courtesy
,
dues
of
gratitude
.
Thy
half
o’
th’
kingdom
hast
thou
not
forgot
,
Wherein
I
thee
endowed
.
Good
sir
,
to
to’
th’
purpose
.
Tucket
within
.
Who
put
my
man
i’
th’
stocks
?
What
trumpet’s
that
?
ACT 2. SC. 4
I
know
’t
—
my
sister’s
.
This
approves
her
letter
,
That
she
would
soon
be
here
.
Enter
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
Is
your
lady
come
?
This
is
a
slave
whose
easy-borrowed
pride
Dwells
in
the
fickle
grace
of
her
he
follows
.
—
Out
,
varlet
,
from
my
sight
!
What
means
your
Grace
?
Who
stocked
my
servant
?
Regan
,
I
have
good
hope
Thou
didst
not
know
on
’t
.
Enter
Goneril
.
Who
comes
here
?
O
heavens
,
If
you
do
love
old
men
,
if
your
sweet
sway
Allow
obedience
,
if
you
yourselves
are
old
,
Make
it
your
cause
.
Send
down
and
take
my
part
.
To
Goneril
.
Art
not
ashamed
to
look
upon
this
beard
?
Regan
takes
Goneril’s
hand
.
O
Regan
,
will
you
take
her
by
the
hand
?
Why
not
by
th’
hand
,
sir
?
How
have
I
offended
?
All’s
not
offense
that
indiscretion
finds
And
dotage
terms
so
.
O
sides
,
you
are
too
tough
!
Will
you
yet
hold
?
—
How
came
my
man
i’
th’
stocks
?
I
set
him
there
,
sir
,
but
his
own
disorders
Deserved
much
less
advancement
.
You
?
Did
you
?
I
pray
you
,
father
,
being
weak
,
seem
so
.
If
till
the
expiration
of
your
month
ACT 2. SC. 4
You
will
return
and
sojourn
with
my
sister
,
Dismissing
half
your
train
,
come
then
to
me
.
I
am
now
from
home
and
out
of
that
provision
Which
shall
be
needful
for
your
entertainment
.
Return
to
her
?
And
fifty
men
dismissed
?
No
!
Rather
I
abjure
all
roofs
,
and
choose
To
wage
against
the
enmity
o’
th’
air
,
To
be
a
comrade
with
the
wolf
and
owl
,
Necessity’s
sharp
pinch
.
Return
with
her
?
Why
the
hot-blooded
France
,
that
dowerless
took
Our
youngest
born
—
I
could
as
well
be
brought
To
knee
his
throne
and
,
squire-like
,
pension
beg
To
keep
base
life
afoot
.
Return
with
her
?
Persuade
me
rather
to
be
slave
and
sumpter
To
this
detested
groom
.
He
indicates
Oswald
.
At
your
choice
,
sir
.
I
prithee
,
daughter
,
do
not
make
me
mad
.
I
will
not
trouble
thee
,
my
child
.
Farewell
.
We’ll
no
more
meet
,
no
more
see
one
another
.
But
yet
thou
art
my
flesh
,
my
blood
,
my
daughter
,
Or
,
rather
,
a
disease
that’s
in
my
flesh
,
Which
I
must
needs
call
mine
.
Thou
art
a
boil
,
A
plague-sore
or
embossèd
carbuncle
In
my
corrupted
blood
.
But
I’ll
not
chide
thee
.
Let
shame
come
when
it
will
;
I
do
not
call
it
.
I
do
not
bid
the
thunder-bearer
shoot
,
Nor
tell
tales
of
thee
to
high-judging
Jove
.
Mend
when
thou
canst
.
Be
better
at
thy
leisure
.
I
can
be
patient
.
I
can
stay
with
Regan
,
I
and
my
hundred
knights
.
Not
altogether
so
.
I
looked
not
for
you
yet
,
nor
am
provided
For
your
fit
welcome
.
Give
ear
,
sir
,
to
my
sister
,
For
those
that
mingle
reason
with
your
passion
ACT 2. SC. 4
Must
be
content
to
think
you
old
,
and
so
—
But
she
knows
what
she
does
.
Is
this
well
spoken
?
I
dare
avouch
it
,
sir
.
What
,
fifty
followers
?
Is
it
not
well
?
What
should
you
need
of
more
?
Yea
,
or
so
many
,
sith
that
both
charge
and
danger
Speak
’gainst
so
great
a
number
?
How
in
one
house
Should
many
people
under
two
commands
Hold
amity
?
’Tis
hard
,
almost
impossible
.
Why
might
not
you
,
my
lord
,
receive
attendance
From
those
that
she
calls
servants
,
or
from
mine
?
Why
not
,
my
lord
?
If
then
they
chanced
to
slack
you
,
We
could
control
them
.
If
you
will
come
to
me
(
For
now
I
spy
a
danger
)
,
I
entreat
you
To
bring
but
five-and-twenty
.
To
no
more
Will
I
give
place
or
notice
.
I
gave
you
all
—
And
in
good
time
you
gave
it
.
Made
you
my
guardians
,
my
depositaries
,
But
kept
a
reservation
to
be
followed
With
such
a
number
.
What
,
must
I
come
to
you
With
five-and-twenty
?
Regan
,
said
you
so
?
And
speak
’t
again
,
my
lord
.
No
more
with
me
.
Those
wicked
creatures
yet
do
look
well-favored
When
others
are
more
wicked
.
Not
being
the
worst
Stands
in
some
rank
of
praise
.
To
Goneril
.
I’ll
go
with
thee
.
Thy
fifty
yet
doth
double
five-and-twenty
,
And
thou
art
twice
her
love
.
Hear
me
,
my
lord
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
What
need
you
five-and-twenty
,
ten
,
or
five
,
To
follow
in
a
house
where
twice
so
many
Have
a
command
to
tend
you
?
What
need
one
?
O
,
reason
not
the
need
!
Our
basest
beggars
Are
in
the
poorest
thing
superfluous
.
Allow
not
nature
more
than
nature
needs
,
Man’s
life
is
cheap
as
beast’s
.
Thou
art
a
lady
;
If
only
to
go
warm
were
gorgeous
,
Why
,
nature
needs
not
what
thou
gorgeous
wear’st
,
Which
scarcely
keeps
thee
warm
.
But
,
for
true
need
—
You
heavens
,
give
me
that
patience
,
patience
I
need
!
You
see
me
here
,
you
gods
,
a
poor
old
man
As
full
of
grief
as
age
,
wretched
in
both
.
If
it
be
you
that
stirs
these
daughters’
hearts
Against
their
father
,
fool
me
not
so
much
To
bear
it
tamely
.
Touch
me
with
noble
anger
,
And
let
not
women’s
weapons
,
water
drops
,
Stain
my
man’s
cheeks
.
—
No
,
you
unnatural
hags
,
I
will
have
such
revenges
on
you
both
That
all
the
world
shall
—
I
will
do
such
things
—
What
they
are
yet
I
know
not
,
but
they
shall
be
The
terrors
of
the
Earth
earth
!
You
think
I’ll
weep
.
No
,
I’ll
not
weep
.
I
have
full
cause
of
weeping
,
but
this
heart
Storm
and
tempest
.
Shall
break
into
a
hundred
thousand
flaws
Or
ere
I’ll
weep
.
—
O
Fool
,
I
shall
go
mad
!
Lear
,
Kent
,
and
Fool
exit
with
Gloucester
and
the
Gentleman
.
Let
us
withdraw
.
’Twill
be
a
storm
.
This
house
is
little
.
The
old
man
and
’s
people
Cannot
be
well
bestowed
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
’Tis
his
own
blame
hath
put
himself
from
rest
,
And
must
needs
taste
his
folly
.
For
his
particular
,
I’ll
receive
him
gladly
,
But
not
one
follower
.
So
am
I
purposed
.
Where
is
my
lord
of
Gloucester
?
Followed
the
old
man
forth
.
Enter
Gloucester
.
He
is
returned
.
The
King
is
in
high
rage
.
Whither
is
he
going
?
He
calls
to
horse
,
but
will
I
know
not
whither
.
’Tis
best
to
give
him
way
.
He
leads
himself
.
,
to
Gloucester
My
lord
,
entreat
him
by
no
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
sir
,
to
willful
men
The
injuries
that
they
themselves
procure
Must
be
their
schoolmasters
.
Shut
up
your
doors
.
He
is
attended
with
a
desperate
train
,
And
what
they
may
incense
him
to
,
being
apt
To
have
his
ear
abused
,
wisdom
bids
fear
.
Shut
up
your
doors
,
my
lord
.
’Tis
a
wild
night
.
My
Regan
counsels
well
.
Come
out
o’
th’
storm
.
They
exit
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Storm
still
.
Enter
Kent
in
disguise
,
and
a
Gentleman
,
severally
.
Who’s
there
,
besides
foul
weather
?
One
minded
like
the
weather
,
most
unquietly
.
I
know
you
.
Where’s
the
King
?
Contending
with
the
fretful
elements
;
Bids
the
wind
blow
the
earth
into
the
sea
Or
swell
the
curlèd
waters
’bove
the
main
,
That
things
might
change
or
cease
;
tears
his
white
hair
,
Which
the
impetuous
blasts
with
eyeless
rage
Catch
in
their
fury
and
make
nothing
of
;
Strives
in
his
little
world
of
man
to
outscorn
The
to-and-fro
conflicting
wind
and
rain
.
This
night
,
wherein
the
cub-drawn
bear
would
couch
,
The
lion
and
the
belly-pinchèd
wolf
Keep
their
fur
dry
,
unbonneted
he
runs
And
bids
what
will
take
all
.
But
who
is
with
him
?
None
but
the
Fool
,
who
labors
to
outjest
His
heart-struck
injuries
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Sir
,
I
do
know
you
And
dare
upon
the
warrant
of
my
note
Commend
a
dear
thing
to
you
.
There
is
division
,
Although
as
yet
the
face
of
it
is
covered
With
mutual
cunning
,
’twixt
Albany
and
Cornwall
,
Who
have
—
as
who
have
not
,
that
their
great
stars
Throned
and
set
high
?
—
servants
,
who
seem
no
less
,
Which
are
to
France
the
spies
and
speculations
Intelligent
of
our
state
.
But
true
it
is
,
From
from
France
there
comes
a
power
Into
this
scattered
kingdom
,
who
already
,
Wise
in
our
negligence
,
have
secret
feet
In
some
of
our
best
ports
and
are
at
point
To
show
their
open
banner
.
Now
to
you
:
If
on
my
credit
you
dare
build
so
far
To
make
your
speed
to
Dover
,
you
shall
find
Some
that
will
thank
you
,
making
just
report
Of
how
unnatural
and
bemadding
sorrow
The
King
hath
cause
to
plain
:
.
what
What
hath
been
seen
,
Either
in
snuffs
and
packings
of
the
dukes
,
Or
the
hard
rein
which
both
of
them
hath
borne
Against
the
old
kind
king
,
or
something
deeper
,
Whereof
perchance
these
are
but
furnishings
.
—
I
am
a
gentleman
of
blood
and
breeding
,
And
from
some
knowledge
and
assurance
offer
This
office
to
you
.
I
will
talk
further
with
you
.
No
,
do
not
.
For
confirmation
that
I
am
much
more
Than
my
outwall
,
open
this
purse
and
take
What
it
contains
.
Kent
hands
him
a
purse
and
a
ring
.
If
you
shall
see
Cordelia
(
As
fear
not
but
you
shall
)
,
show
her
this
ring
,
And
she
will
tell
you
who
that
fellow
is
ACT 3. SC. 2
That
yet
you
do
not
know
.
Fie
on
this
storm
!
I
will
go
seek
the
King
.
Give
me
your
hand
.
Have
you
no
more
to
say
?
Few
words
,
but
,
to
effect
,
more
than
all
yet
:
That
when
we
have
found
the
King
—
in
which
your
pain
That
way
,
I’ll
this
—
he
that
first
lights
on
him
Holla
the
other
.
They
exit
separately
.
Scene
2
Storm
still
.
Enter
Lear
and
Fool
.
Blow
winds
,
and
crack
your
cheeks
!
Rage
,
blow
!
You
cataracts
and
hurricanoes
,
spout
Till
you
have
drenched
our
steeples
,
drowned
the
cocks
.
You
sulph’rous
and
thought-executing
fires
,
Vaunt-couriers
of
oak-cleaving
thunderbolts
,
Singe
my
white
head
.
And
thou
,
all-shaking
thunder
,
Strike
flat
the
thick
rotundity
o’
th’
world
.
Crack
nature’s
molds
,
all
germens
spill
at
once
That
makes
ingrateful
man
.
O
nuncle
,
court
holy
water
in
a
dry
house
is
better
than
this
rainwater
out
o’
door
.
Good
nuncle
,
in
.
Ask
thy
daughters’
blessing
.
Here’s
a
night
pities
neither
wise
men
nor
fools
.
Rumble
thy
bellyful
!
Spit
,
fire
!
Spout
,
rain
!
Nor
rain
,
wind
,
thunder
,
fire
are
my
daughters
.
I
tax
not
you
,
you
elements
,
with
unkindness
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
I
never
gave
you
kingdom
,
called
you
children
;
You
owe
me
no
subscription
.
Then
let
fall
Your
horrible
pleasure
.
Here
I
stand
your
slave
,
A
poor
,
infirm
,
weak
,
and
despised
old
man
.
But
yet
I
call
you
servile
ministers
,
That
will
with
two
pernicious
daughters
join
Your
high-engendered
battles
’gainst
a
head
So
old
and
white
as
this
.
O
,
ho
,
’tis
foul
!
He
that
has
a
house
to
put
’s
head
in
has
a
good
headpiece
.
The
codpiece
that
will
house
Before
the
head
has
any
,
The
head
and
he
shall
louse
;
So
beggars
marry
many
.
The
man
that
makes
his
toe
What
he
his
heart
should
make
,
Shall
of
a
corn
cry
woe
,
And
turn
his
sleep
to
wake
.
For
there
was
never
yet
fair
woman
but
she
made
mouths
in
a
glass
.
No
,
I
will
be
the
pattern
of
all
patience
.
I
will
say
nothing
.
Enter
Kent
in
disguise
.
Who’s
there
?
Marry
,
here’s
grace
and
a
codpiece
;
that’s
a
wise
man
and
a
fool
.
Alas
,
sir
,
are
you
here
?
Things
that
love
night
Love
not
such
nights
as
these
.
The
wrathful
skies
Gallow
the
very
wanderers
of
the
dark
And
make
them
keep
their
caves
.
Since
I
was
man
,
Such
sheets
of
fire
,
such
bursts
of
horrid
thunder
,
Such
groans
of
roaring
wind
and
rain
I
never
Remember
to
have
heard
.
Man’s
nature
cannot
carry
Th’
affliction
nor
the
fear
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Let
the
great
gods
That
keep
this
dreadful
pudder
o’er
our
heads
Find
out
their
enemies
now
.
Tremble
,
thou
wretch
,
That
hast
within
thee
undivulgèd
crimes
Unwhipped
of
justice
.
Hide
thee
,
thou
bloody
hand
,
Thou
perjured
,
and
thou
simular
of
virtue
That
art
incestuous
.
Caitiff
,
to
pieces
shake
,
That
under
covert
and
convenient
seeming
Has
practiced
on
man’s
life
.
Close
pent-up
guilts
,
Rive
your
concealing
continents
and
cry
These
dreadful
summoners
grace
.
I
am
a
man
More
sinned
against
than
sinning
.
Alack
,
bareheaded
?
Gracious
my
lord
,
hard
by
here
is
a
hovel
.
Some
friendship
will
it
lend
you
’gainst
the
tempest
.
Repose
you
there
while
I
to
this
hard
house
—
More
harder
than
the
stones
whereof
’tis
raised
,
Which
even
but
now
,
demanding
after
you
,
Denied
me
to
come
in
—
return
and
force
Their
scanted
courtesy
.
My
wits
begin
to
turn
.
—
Come
on
,
my
boy
.
How
dost
,
my
boy
?
Art
cold
?
I
am
cold
myself
.
—
Where
is
this
straw
,
my
fellow
?
The
art
of
our
necessities
is
strange
And
can
make
vile
things
precious
.
Come
,
your
hovel
.
—
Poor
Fool
and
knave
,
I
have
one
part
in
my
heart
That’s
sorry
yet
for
thee
.
sings
He
that
has
and
a
little
tiny
wit
,
With
hey
heigh-ho
,
ho
,
the
wind
and
the
rain
,
Must
make
content
with
his
fortunes
fit
,
Though
the
rain
it
raineth
every
day
.
True
,
my
good
boy
.
—
Come
,
bring
us
to
this
hovel
.
Lear
and
Kent
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
This
is
a
brave
night
to
cool
a
courtesan
.
I’ll
speak
a
prophecy
ere
I
go
:
When
priests
are
more
in
word
than
matter
,
When
brewers
mar
their
malt
with
water
,
When
nobles
are
their
tailors’
tutors
,
No
heretics
burned
but
wenches’
suitors
,
When
every
case
in
law
is
right
,
No
squire
in
debt
,
nor
no
poor
knight
;
When
slanders
do
not
live
in
tongues
,
Nor
cutpurses
come
not
to
throngs
,
When
usurers
tell
their
gold
i’
th’
field
,
And
bawds
and
whores
do
churches
build
,
Then
shall
the
realm
of
Albion
Come
to
great
confusion
;
Then
comes
the
time
,
who
lives
to
see
’t
,
That
going
shall
be
used
with
feet
.
This
prophecy
Merlin
shall
make
,
for
I
live
before
his
time
.
He
exits
.
Scene
3
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
.
Most
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
ACT 3. SC. 4
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
.
This
courtesy
forbid
thee
shall
the
Duke
Instantly
know
,
and
of
that
letter
too
.
This
seems
a
fair
deserving
,
and
must
draw
me
That
which
my
father
loses
—
no
less
than
all
.
The
younger
rises
when
the
old
doth
fall
.
He
exits
.
Scene
4
Enter
Lear
,
Kent
in
disguise
,
and
Fool
.
Here
is
the
place
,
my
lord
.
Good
my
lord
,
enter
.
The
tyranny
of
the
open
night
’s
too
rough
For
nature
to
endure
.
Storm
still
.
Let
me
alone
.
Good
my
lord
,
enter
here
.
Wilt
break
my
heart
?
I
had
rather
break
mine
own
.
Good
my
lord
,
enter
.
Thou
think’st
’tis
much
that
this
contentious
storm
Invades
us
to
the
skin
.
So
’tis
to
thee
.
But
where
the
greater
malady
is
fixed
,
The
lesser
is
scarce
felt
.
Thou
’dst
shun
a
bear
,
But
if
thy
flight
lay
toward
the
roaring
sea
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
Thou
’dst
meet
the
bear
i’
th’
mouth
.
When
the
mind’s
free
,
The
body’s
delicate
.
This
tempest
in
my
mind
Doth
from
my
senses
take
all
feeling
else
Save
what
beats
there
.
Filial
ingratitude
!
Is
it
not
as
this
mouth
should
tear
this
hand
For
lifting
food
to
’t
?
But
I
will
punish
home
.
No
,
I
will
weep
no
more
.
In
such
a
night
To
shut
me
out
?
Pour
on
.
I
will
endure
.
In
such
a
night
as
this
?
O
Regan
,
Goneril
,
Your
old
kind
father
whose
frank
heart
gave
all
!
O
,
that
way
madness
lies
.
Let
me
shun
that
;
No
more
of
that
.
Good
my
lord
,
enter
here
.
Prithee
,
go
in
thyself
.
Seek
thine
own
ease
.
This
tempest
will
not
give
me
leave
to
ponder
On
things
would
hurt
me
more
.
But
I’ll
go
in
.
—
In
,
boy
;
go
first
.
—
You
houseless
poverty
—
Nay
,
get
thee
in
.
I’ll
pray
,
and
then
I’ll
sleep
.
Fool
exits
.
Poor
naked
wretches
,
wheresoe’er
you
are
,
That
bide
the
pelting
of
this
pitiless
storm
,
How
shall
your
houseless
heads
and
unfed
sides
,
Your
looped
and
windowed
raggedness
defend
you
From
seasons
such
as
these
?
O
,
I
have
ta’en
Too
little
care
of
this
.
Take
physic
,
pomp
.
Expose
thyself
to
feel
what
wretches
feel
,
That
thou
may’st
shake
the
superflux
to
them
And
show
the
heavens
more
just
.
within
Fathom
and
half
,
fathom
and
half
!
Poor
Tom
!
Enter
Fool
.
Come
not
in
here
,
nuncle
;
here’s
a
spirit
.
Help
me
,
help
me
!
ACT 3. SC. 4
Give
me
thy
hand
.
Who’s
there
?
A
spirit
,
a
spirit
!
He
says
his
name’s
Poor
Tom
.
What
art
thou
that
dost
grumble
there
i’
th’
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
.
Didst
thou
give
all
to
thy
daughters
?
And
art
thou
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
.
Storm
still
.
Has
his
daughters
brought
him
to
this
pass
?
—
Couldst
thou
save
nothing
?
Wouldst
thou
give
’em
all
?
Nay
,
he
reserved
a
blanket
,
else
we
had
been
all
shamed
.
Now
all
the
plagues
that
in
the
pendulous
air
Hang
fated
o’er
men’s
faults
light
on
thy
daughters
!
He
hath
no
daughters
,
sir
.
Death
,
traitor
!
Nothing
could
have
subdued
nature
To
such
a
lowness
but
his
unkind
daughters
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Is
it
the
fashion
that
discarded
fathers
Should
have
thus
little
mercy
on
their
flesh
?
Judicious
punishment
!
’Twas
this
flesh
begot
Those
pelican
daughters
.
Pillicock
sat
on
Pillicock
Hill
.
Alow
,
alow
,
loo
,
loo
.
This
cold
night
will
turn
us
all
to
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
.
What
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
.
Storm
still
.
Thou
wert
better
in
a
grave
than
to
answer
with
thy
uncovered
body
this
extremity
of
the
skies
.
—
Is
man
no
more
than
this
?
Consider
him
well
.
—
Thou
ow’st
the
worm
no
silk
,
the
beast
no
hide
,
the
sheep
no
wool
,
the
cat
no
perfume
.
Ha
,
here’s
three
on
’s
are
sophisticated
.
Thou
art
the
thing
itself
;
unaccommodated
man
is
no
more
but
such
a
poor
,
bare
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
forked
animal
as
thou
art
.
Off
,
off
,
you
lendings
!
Come
,
unbutton
here
.
Tearing
off
his
clothes
.
Prithee
,
nuncle
,
be
contented
.
’Tis
a
naughty
night
to
swim
in
.
Now
,
a
little
fire
in
a
wild
field
were
like
an
old
lecher’s
heart
—
a
small
spark
,
all
the
rest
on
’s
body
cold
.
Enter
Gloucester
,
with
a
torch
.
Look
,
here
comes
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
.
How
fares
your
Grace
?
What’s
he
?
Who’s
there
?
What
is
’t
you
seek
?
What
are
you
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
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Beware
my
follower
.
Peace
,
Smulkin
!
Peace
,
thou
fiend
!
,
to
Lear
What
,
hath
your
Grace
no
better
company
?
The
Prince
of
Darkness
is
a
gentleman
.
Modo
he’s
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
.
First
let
me
talk
with
this
philosopher
.
To
Edgar
.
What
is
the
cause
of
thunder
?
Good
my
lord
,
take
his
offer
;
go
into
th’
house
.
I’ll
talk
a
word
with
this
same
learnèd
Theban
.
—
What
is
your
study
?
How
to
prevent
the
fiend
and
to
kill
vermin
.
Let
me
ask
you
one
word
in
private
.
They
talk
aside
.
,
to
Gloucester
Importune
him
once
more
to
go
,
my
lord
.
His
wits
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
,
ACT 3. SC. 5
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
—
O
,
cry
you
mercy
,
sir
.
To
Edgar
.
Noble
philosopher
,
your
company
.
Tom’s
a-cold
.
,
to
Edgar
In
fellow
,
there
,
into
th’
hovel
.
Keep
thee
warm
.
Come
,
let’s
in
all
.
This
way
,
my
lord
.
,
indicating
Edgar
With
him
.
I
will
keep
still
with
my
philosopher
.
,
to
Gloucester
Good
my
lord
,
soothe
him
.
Let
him
take
the
fellow
.
,
to
Kent
Take
him
you
on
.
,
to
Edgar
Sirrah
,
come
on
:
go
along
with
us
.
Come
,
good
Athenian
.
No
words
,
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
5
Enter
Cornwall
,
and
Edmund
with
a
paper
.
I
will
have
my
revenge
ere
I
depart
his
house
.
How
,
my
lord
,
I
may
be
censured
,
that
nature
thus
gives
way
to
loyalty
,
something
fears
me
to
think
of
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
I
now
perceive
it
was
not
altogether
your
brother’s
evil
disposition
made
him
seek
his
death
,
but
a
provoking
merit
set
awork
by
a
reprovable
badness
in
himself
.
How
malicious
is
my
fortune
that
I
must
repent
to
be
just
!
This
is
the
letter
he
spoke
of
,
which
approves
him
an
intelligent
party
to
the
advantages
of
France
.
O
heavens
,
that
this
treason
were
not
,
or
not
I
the
detector
.
Go
with
me
to
the
Duchess
.
If
the
matter
of
this
paper
be
certain
,
you
have
mighty
business
in
hand
.
True
or
false
,
it
hath
made
thee
Earl
of
Gloucester
.
Seek
out
where
thy
father
is
,
that
he
may
be
ready
for
our
apprehension
.
,
aside
If
I
find
him
comforting
the
King
,
it
will
stuff
his
suspicion
more
fully
.
—
I
will
persevere
in
my
course
of
loyalty
,
though
the
conflict
be
sore
between
that
and
my
blood
.
I
will
lay
trust
upon
thee
,
and
thou
shalt
find
a
dearer
father
in
my
love
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
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
.
All
the
power
of
his
wits
have
given
way
to
his
impatience
.
The
gods
reward
your
kindness
!
Gloucester
exits
.
Enter
Lear
,
Edgar
in
disguise
,
and
Fool
.
Frateretto
calls
me
and
tells
me
Nero
is
an
ACT 3. SC. 6
angler
in
the
lake
of
darkness
.
Pray
,
innocent
,
and
beware
the
foul
fiend
.
Prithee
,
nuncle
,
tell
me
whether
a
madman
be
a
gentleman
or
a
yeoman
.
A
king
,
a
king
!
No
,
he’s
a
yeoman
that
has
a
gentleman
to
his
son
,
for
he’s
a
mad
yeoman
that
sees
his
son
a
gentleman
before
him
.
To
have
a
thousand
with
red
burning
spits
Come
hissing
in
upon
’em
!
The
foul
fiend
bites
my
back
.
He’s
mad
that
trusts
in
the
tameness
of
a
wolf
,
a
horse’s
health
,
a
boy’s
love
,
or
a
whore’s
oath
.
It
shall
be
done
.
I
will
arraign
them
straight
.
To
Edgar
.
Come
,
sit
thou
here
,
most
learnèd
justice
.
To
Fool
.
Thou
sapient
sir
,
sit
here
.
Now
,
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
—
sings
Her
boat
hath
a
leak
,
And
she
must
not
speak
Why
she
dares
not
come
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
.
,
to
Lear
How
do
you
,
sir
?
Stand
you
not
so
amazed
.
Will
you
lie
down
and
rest
upon
the
cushions
?
I’ll
see
their
trial
first
.
Bring
in
their
evidence
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
To
Edgar
.
Thou
robèd
man
of
justice
,
take
thy
place
,
To
Fool
.
And
thou
,
his
yokefellow
of
equity
,
Bench
by
his
side
.
To
Kent
.
You
are
o’
th’
commission
;
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
.
Arraign
her
first
;
’tis
Goneril
.
I
here
take
my
oath
before
this
honorable
assembly
,
kicked
the
poor
king
her
father
.
Come
hither
,
mistress
.
Is
your
name
Goneril
?
She
cannot
deny
it
.
Cry
you
mercy
,
I
took
you
for
a
joint
stool
.
And
here’s
another
whose
warped
looks
proclaim
What
store
her
heart
is
made
on
.
Stop
her
there
!
Arms
,
arms
,
sword
,
fire
!
Corruption
in
the
place
!
False
justicer
,
why
hast
thou
let
her
’scape
?
Bless
thy
five
wits
!
,
to
Lear
O
pity
!
Sir
,
where
is
the
patience
now
That
you
so
oft
have
boasted
to
retain
?
,
aside
My
tears
begin
to
take
his
part
so
much
They
mar
my
counterfeiting
.
The
little
dogs
and
all
,
Tray
,
Blanch
,
and
Sweetheart
,
see
,
they
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
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
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
.
Then
let
them
anatomize
Regan
;
see
what
breeds
about
her
heart
.
Is
there
any
cause
in
nature
that
make
these
hard
hearts
?
To
Edgar
.
You
,
sir
,
I
entertain
for
one
of
my
hundred
;
only
I
do
not
like
the
fashion
of
your
garments
.
You
will
say
they
are
Persian
,
but
let
them
be
changed
.
Now
,
good
my
lord
,
lie
here
and
rest
awhile
.
,
lying
down
Make
no
noise
,
make
no
noise
.
Draw
the
curtains
.
So
,
so
,
we’ll
go
to
supper
i’
th’
morning
.
And
I’ll
go
to
bed
at
noon
.
Enter
Gloucester
.
,
to
Kent
Come
hither
,
friend
.
Where
is
the
King
my
master
?
Here
,
sir
,
but
trouble
him
not
;
his
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
,
ACT 3. SC. 7
And
follow
me
,
that
will
to
some
provision
Give
thee
quick
conduct
.
Oppressèd
nature
sleeps
.
This
rest
might
yet
have
balmed
thy
broken
sinews
,
Which
,
if
convenience
will
not
allow
,
Stand
in
hard
cure
.
To
the
Fool
.
Come
,
help
to
bear
thy
master
.
Thou
must
not
stay
behind
.
Come
,
come
away
.
All
but
Edgar
exit
,
carrying
Lear
.
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
.
Scene
7
Enter
Cornwall
,
Regan
,
Goneril
,
Edmund
,
the
Bastard
,
and
Servants
.
,
to
Goneril
Post
speedily
to
my
lord
your
husband
.
Show
him
this
letter
.
He
gives
her
a
paper
.
The
army
of
France
is
landed
.
—
Seek
out
the
traitor
Gloucester
.
Some
Servants
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
Hang
him
instantly
.
Pluck
out
his
eyes
.
Leave
him
to
my
displeasure
.
—
Edmund
,
keep
you
our
sister
company
.
The
revenges
we
are
bound
to
take
upon
your
traitorous
father
are
not
fit
for
your
beholding
.
Advise
the
Duke
,
where
you
are
going
,
to
a
most
festinate
preparation
;
we
are
bound
to
the
like
.
Our
posts
shall
be
swift
and
intelligent
betwixt
us
.
—
Farewell
,
dear
sister
.
—
Farewell
,
my
lord
of
Gloucester
.
Enter
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
How
now
?
Where’s
the
King
?
My
lord
of
Gloucester
hath
conveyed
him
hence
.
Some
five-
or
six-and-thirty
of
his
knights
,
Hot
questrists
after
him
,
met
him
at
gate
,
Who
,
with
some
other
of
the
lord’s
dependents
,
Are
gone
with
him
toward
Dover
,
where
they
boast
To
have
well-armèd
friends
.
Get
horses
for
your
mistress
.
Oswald
exits
.
Farewell
,
sweet
lord
,
and
sister
.
Edmund
,
farewell
.
Goneril
and
Edmund
exit
.
Go
seek
the
traitor
Gloucester
.
Pinion
him
like
a
thief
;
bring
him
before
us
.
Some
Servants
exit
.
Though
well
we
may
not
pass
upon
his
life
Without
the
form
of
justice
,
yet
our
power
Shall
do
a
court’sy
to
our
wrath
,
which
men
May
blame
but
not
control
.
Enter
Gloucester
and
Servants
.
Who’s
there
?
The
traitor
?
ACT 3. SC. 7
Ingrateful
fox
!
’Tis
he
.
Bind
fast
his
corky
arms
.
What
means
your
Graces
?
Good
my
friends
,
consider
You
are
my
guests
;
do
me
no
foul
play
,
friends
.
Bind
him
,
I
say
.
Hard
,
hard
.
O
filthy
traitor
!
Unmerciful
lady
as
you
are
,
I’m
none
.
To
this
chair
bind
him
.
Servants
bind
Gloucester
.
Villain
,
thou
shalt
find
—
Regan
plucks
Gloucester’s
beard
.
By
the
kind
gods
,
’tis
most
ignobly
done
To
pluck
me
by
the
beard
.
So
white
,
and
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
?
Come
,
sir
,
what
letters
had
you
late
from
France
?
Be
simple-answered
,
for
we
know
the
truth
.
And
what
confederacy
have
you
with
the
traitors
Late
footed
in
the
kingdom
?
To
whose
hands
You
have
sent
the
lunatic
king
.
Speak
.
I
have
a
letter
guessingly
set
down
ACT 3. SC. 7
Which
came
from
one
that’s
of
a
neutral
heart
,
And
not
from
one
opposed
.
Cunning
.
And
false
.
Where
hast
thou
sent
the
King
?
To
Dover
.
Wherefore
to
Dover
?
Wast
thou
not
charged
at
peril
—
Wherefore
to
Dover
?
Let
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
.
See
’t
shalt
thou
never
.
—
Fellows
,
hold
the
chair
.
—
Upon
these
eyes
of
thine
I’ll
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
!
ACT 3. SC. 7
One
side
will
mock
another
.
Th’
other
too
.
If
you
see
vengeance
—
Hold
your
hand
,
my
lord
.
I
have
served
you
ever
since
I
was
a
child
,
But
better
service
have
I
never
done
you
Than
now
to
bid
you
hold
.
How
now
,
you
dog
?
If
you
did
wear
a
beard
upon
your
chin
,
I’d
shake
it
on
this
quarrel
.
What
do
you
mean
?
My
villain
?
Draw
and
fight
.
Nay
,
then
,
come
on
,
and
take
the
chance
of
anger
.
,
to
an
Attendant
Give
me
thy
sword
.
A
peasant
stand
up
thus
?
She
takes
a
sword
and
runs
at
him
behind
;
kills
him
.
O
,
I
am
slain
!
My
lord
,
you
have
one
eye
left
To
see
some
mischief
on
him
.
O
!
He
dies
.
Lest
it
see
more
,
prevent
it
.
Out
,
vile
jelly
!
Forcing
out
Gloucester’s
other
eye
.
Where
is
thy
luster
now
?
All
dark
and
comfortless
!
Where’s
my
son
Edmund
?
—
Edmund
,
enkindle
all
the
sparks
of
nature
To
quit
this
horrid
act
.
Out
,
treacherous
villain
!
Thou
call’st
on
him
that
hates
thee
.
It
was
he
That
made
the
overture
of
thy
treasons
to
us
,
Who
is
too
good
to
pity
thee
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
O
my
follies
!
Then
Edgar
was
abused
.
Kind
gods
,
forgive
me
that
,
and
prosper
him
.
Go
thrust
him
out
at
gates
,
and
let
him
smell
His
way
to
Dover
.
Some
Servants
exit
with
Gloucester
.
How
is
’t
,
my
lord
?
How
look
you
?
I
have
received
a
hurt
.
Follow
me
,
lady
.
—
Turn
out
that
eyeless
villain
.
Throw
this
slave
Upon
the
dunghill
.
—
Regan
,
I
bleed
apace
.
Untimely
comes
this
hurt
.
Give
me
your
arm
.
Cornwall
and
Regan
exit
.
I’ll
never
care
what
wickedness
I
do
If
this
man
come
to
good
.
If
she
live
long
And
in
the
end
meet
the
old
course
of
death
,
Women
will
all
turn
monsters
.
Let’s
follow
the
old
earl
and
get
the
Bedlam
To
lead
him
where
he
would
.
His
roguish
madness
Allows
itself
to
anything
.
Go
thou
.
I’ll
fetch
some
flax
and
whites
of
eggs
To
apply
to
his
bleeding
face
.
Now
heaven
help
him
!
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
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
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
.
O
my
good
lord
,
I
have
been
your
tenant
And
your
father’s
tenant
these
fourscore
years
.
Away
,
get
thee
away
.
Good
friend
,
begone
.
Thy
comforts
can
do
me
no
good
at
all
;
Thee
they
may
hurt
.
You
cannot
see
your
way
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
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
.
How
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
.
’Tis
poor
mad
Tom
.
,
aside
And
worse
I
may
be
yet
.
The
worst
is
not
So
long
as
we
can
say
This
is
the
worst
.
Fellow
,
where
goest
?
Is
it
a
beggar-man
?
Madman
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
.
,
aside
How
should
this
be
?
Bad
is
the
trade
that
must
play
fool
to
sorrow
,
Ang’ring
itself
and
others
.
—
Bless
thee
,
master
.
Is
that
the
naked
fellow
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
Then
,
prithee
,
get
thee
away
.
If
for
my
sake
ACT 4. SC. 1
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
.
Alack
,
sir
,
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
.
I’ll
bring
him
the
best
’parel
that
I
have
,
Come
on
’t
what
will
.
He
exits
.
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
.
Know’st
thou
the
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
.
,
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
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
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
.
Give
me
thy
arm
.
Poor
Tom
shall
lead
thee
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Goneril
and
Edmund
,
the
Bastard
.
Welcome
,
my
lord
.
I
marvel
our
mild
husband
Not
met
us
on
the
way
.
Enter
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
Now
,
where’s
your
master
?
Madam
,
within
,
but
never
man
so
changed
.
I
told
him
of
the
army
that
was
landed
;
He
smiled
at
it
.
I
told
him
you
were
coming
;
His
answer
was
The
worse
.
Of
Gloucester’s
treachery
And
of
the
loyal
service
of
his
son
When
I
informed
him
,
then
he
called
me
sot
And
told
me
I
had
turned
the
wrong
side
out
.
What
most
he
should
dislike
seems
pleasant
to
him
;
What
like
,
offensive
.
,
to
Edmund
Then
shall
you
go
no
further
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
It
is
the
cowish
terror
of
his
spirit
,
That
dares
not
undertake
.
He’ll
not
feel
wrongs
Which
tie
him
to
an
answer
.
Our
wishes
on
the
way
May
prove
effects
.
Back
,
Edmund
,
to
my
brother
.
Hasten
his
musters
and
conduct
his
powers
.
I
must
change
names
at
home
and
give
the
distaff
Into
my
husband’s
hands
.
This
trusty
servant
Shall
pass
between
us
.
Ere
long
you
are
like
to
hear
—
If
you
dare
venture
in
your
own
behalf
—
A
mistress’s
command
.
Wear
this
;
spare
speech
.
She
gives
him
a
favor
.
Decline
your
head
.
She
kisses
him
.
This
kiss
,
if
it
durst
speak
,
Would
stretch
thy
spirits
up
into
the
air
.
Conceive
,
and
fare
thee
well
.
Yours
in
the
ranks
of
death
.
He
exits
.
My
most
dear
Gloucester
!
O
,
the
difference
of
man
and
man
!
To
thee
a
woman’s
services
are
due
;
My
fool
usurps
my
body
.
Madam
,
here
comes
my
lord
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Albany
.
I
have
been
worth
the
whistle
.
O
Goneril
,
You
are
not
worth
the
dust
which
the
rude
wind
Blows
in
your
face
.
I
fear
your
disposition
.
That
nature
which
contemns
its
origin
Cannot
be
bordered
certain
in
itself
.
She
that
herself
will
sliver
and
disbranch
From
her
material
sap
perforce
must
wither
And
come
to
deadly
use
.
No
more
.
The
text
is
foolish
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Wisdom
and
goodness
to
the
vile
seem
vile
.
Filths
savor
but
themselves
.
What
have
you
done
?
Tigers
,
not
daughters
,
what
have
you
performed
?
A
father
,
and
a
gracious
agèd
man
,
Whose
reverence
even
the
head-lugged
bear
would
lick
,
Most
barbarous
,
most
degenerate
,
have
you
madded
.
Could
my
good
brother
suffer
you
to
do
it
?
A
man
,
a
prince
,
by
him
so
benefited
!
If
that
the
heavens
do
not
their
visible
spirits
Send
quickly
down
to
tame
these
vile
offenses
,
It
will
come
:
Humanity
must
perforce
prey
on
itself
,
Like
monsters
of
the
deep
.
Milk-livered
man
,
That
bear’st
a
cheek
for
blows
,
a
head
for
wrongs
;
Who
hast
not
in
thy
brows
an
eye
discerning
Thine
honor
from
thy
suffering
;
that
not
know’st
Fools
do
those
villains
pity
who
are
punished
Ere
they
have
done
their
mischief
.
Where’s
thy
drum
?
France
spreads
his
banners
in
our
noiseless
land
,
.
With
plumèd
helm
thy
state
begins
to
threat
,
Whilst
thou
,
a
moral
fool
,
sits
still
and
cries
Alack
,
why
does
he
so
?
See
thyself
,
devil
!
Proper
deformity
shows
not
in
the
fiend
So
horrid
as
in
woman
.
O
vain
fool
!
Thou
changèd
and
self-covered
thing
,
for
shame
Bemonster
not
thy
feature
.
Were
’t
my
fitness
To
let
these
hands
obey
my
blood
,
They
are
apt
enough
to
dislocate
and
tear
ACT 4. SC. 2
Thy
flesh
and
bones
.
Howe’er
thou
art
a
fiend
,
A
woman’s
shape
doth
shield
thee
.
Marry
,
your
manhood
,
mew
—
Enter
a
Messenger
.
What
news
?
O
,
my
good
lord
,
the
Duke
of
Cornwall’s
dead
,
Slain
by
his
servant
,
going
to
put
out
The
other
eye
of
Gloucester
.
Gloucester’s
eyes
?
A
servant
that
he
bred
,
thrilled
with
remorse
,
Opposed
against
the
act
,
bending
his
sword
To
his
great
master
,
who
,
thereat
enraged
,
Flew
on
him
and
amongst
them
felled
him
dead
,
But
not
without
that
harmful
stroke
which
since
Hath
plucked
him
after
.
This
shows
you
are
above
,
You
justicers
,
that
these
our
nether
crimes
So
speedily
can
venge
.
But
,
O
poor
Gloucester
,
Lost
he
his
other
eye
?
Both
,
both
,
my
lord
.
—
This
letter
,
madam
,
craves
a
speedy
answer
.
Giving
her
a
paper
.
’Tis
from
your
sister
.
,
aside
One
way
I
like
this
well
.
But
being
widow
and
my
Gloucester
with
her
May
all
the
building
in
my
fancy
pluck
Upon
my
hateful
life
.
Another
way
The
news
is
not
so
tart
.
—
I’ll
read
,
and
answer
.
She
exits
.
Where
was
his
son
when
they
did
take
his
eyes
?
Come
with
my
lady
hither
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
He
is
not
here
.
No
,
my
good
lord
.
I
met
him
back
again
.
Knows
he
the
wickedness
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
’Twas
he
informed
against
him
And
quit
the
house
on
purpose
,
that
their
punishment
Might
have
the
freer
course
.
Gloucester
,
I
live
To
thank
thee
for
the
love
thou
show’d’st
the
King
,
And
to
revenge
thine
eyes
.
—
Come
hither
,
friend
.
Tell
me
what
more
thou
know’st
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Kent
in
disguise
and
a
Gentleman
.
Why
the
King
of
France
is
so
suddenly
gone
back
know
you
no
reason
?
Something
he
left
imperfect
in
the
state
,
which
since
his
coming
forth
is
thought
of
,
which
imports
to
the
kingdom
so
much
fear
and
danger
that
his
personal
return
was
most
required
and
necessary
.
Who
hath
he
left
behind
him
general
?
The
Marshal
of
France
,
Monsieur
La
Far
.
Did
your
letters
pierce
the
Queen
to
any
demonstration
of
grief
?
Ay
,
sir
,
she
took
them
,
read
them
in
my
presence
,
And
now
and
then
an
ample
tear
trilled
down
Her
delicate
cheek
.
It
seemed
she
was
a
queen
Over
her
passion
,
who
,
most
rebel-like
,
Fought
to
be
king
o’er
her
.
O
,
then
it
moved
her
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
Not
to
a
rage
.
Patience
and
sorrow
strove
Who
should
express
her
goodliest
.
You
have
seen
Sunshine
and
rain
at
once
;
her
smiles
and
tears
Were
like
a
better
way
.
Those
happy
smilets
That
played
on
her
ripe
lip
seemed
not
to
know
What
guests
were
in
her
eyes
,
which
parted
thence
As
pearls
from
diamonds
dropped
.
In
brief
,
Sorrow
would
be
a
rarity
most
beloved
If
all
could
so
become
it
.
Made
she
no
verbal
question
?
Faith
,
once
or
twice
she
heaved
the
name
of
father
Pantingly
forth
,
as
if
it
pressed
her
heart
;
Cried
Sisters
,
sisters
,
shame
of
ladies
,
sisters
!
Kent
,
father
,
sisters
!
What
,
i’
th’
storm
,
i’
th’
night
?
Let
pity
not
be
believed
!
There
she
shook
The
holy
water
from
her
heavenly
eyes
,
And
clamor
moistened
.
Then
away
she
started
,
To
deal
with
grief
alone
.
It
is
the
stars
.
The
stars
above
us
govern
our
conditions
,
Else
one
self
mate
and
make
could
not
beget
Such
different
issues
.
You
spoke
not
with
her
since
?
No
.
Was
this
before
the
King
returned
?
No
,
since
.
Well
,
sir
,
the
poor
distressèd
Lear’s
i’
th’
town
,
Who
sometime
in
his
better
tune
remembers
What
we
are
come
about
,
and
by
no
means
Will
yield
to
see
his
daughter
.
Why
,
good
sir
?
ACT 4. SC. 4
A
sovereign
shame
so
elbows
him
—
his
own
unkindness
,
That
stripped
her
from
his
benediction
,
turned
her
To
foreign
casualties
,
gave
her
dear
rights
To
his
dog-hearted
daughters
—
these
things
sting
His
mind
so
venomously
that
burning
shame
Detains
him
from
Cordelia
.
Alack
,
poor
gentleman
!
Of
Albany’s
and
Cornwall’s
powers
you
heard
not
?
’Tis
so
.
They
are
afoot
.
Well
,
sir
,
I’ll
bring
you
to
our
master
Lear
And
leave
you
to
attend
him
.
Some
dear
cause
Will
in
concealment
wrap
me
up
awhile
.
When
I
am
known
aright
,
you
shall
not
grieve
Lending
me
this
acquaintance
.
I
pray
you
,
go
Along
with
me
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
with
Drum
and
Colors
,
Cordelia
,
Doctor
,
Gentlemen
,
and
Soldiers
.
Alack
,
’tis
he
!
Why
,
he
was
met
even
now
As
mad
as
the
vexed
sea
,
singing
aloud
,
Crowned
with
rank
fumiter
and
furrow-weeds
,
With
hardocks
,
hemlock
,
nettles
,
cuckooflowers
,
Darnel
,
and
all
the
idle
weeds
that
grow
In
our
sustaining
corn
.
A
century
send
forth
.
Search
every
acre
in
the
high-grown
field
And
bring
him
to
our
eye
.
Soldiers
exit
.
What
can
man’s
wisdom
ACT 4. SC. 5
In
the
restoring
his
bereavèd
sense
?
He
that
helps
him
take
all
my
outward
worth
.
There
is
means
,
madam
.
Our
foster
nurse
of
nature
is
repose
,
The
which
he
lacks
.
That
to
provoke
in
him
Are
many
simples
operative
,
whose
power
Will
close
the
eye
of
anguish
.
All
blest
secrets
,
All
you
unpublished
virtues
of
the
earth
,
Spring
with
my
tears
.
Be
aidant
and
remediate
In
the
good
man’s
distress
.
Seek
,
seek
for
him
,
Lest
his
ungoverned
rage
dissolve
the
life
That
wants
the
means
to
lead
it
.
Enter
Messenger
.
News
,
madam
.
The
British
powers
are
marching
hitherward
.
’Tis
known
before
.
Our
preparation
stands
In
expectation
of
them
.
—
O
dear
father
,
It
is
thy
business
that
I
go
about
.
Therefore
great
France
My
mourning
and
importuned
tears
hath
pitied
.
No
blown
ambition
doth
our
arms
incite
,
But
love
,
dear
love
,
and
our
aged
father’s
right
.
Soon
may
I
hear
and
see
him
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
Regan
and
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
But
are
my
brother’s
powers
set
forth
?
Ay
,
madam
.
Himself
in
person
there
?
ACT 4. SC. 5
Madam
,
with
much
ado
.
Your
sister
is
the
better
soldier
.
Lord
Edmund
spake
not
with
your
lord
at
home
?
No
,
madam
.
What
might
import
my
sister’s
letter
to
him
?
I
know
not
,
lady
.
Faith
,
he
is
posted
hence
on
serious
matter
.
It
was
great
ignorance
,
Gloucester’s
eyes
being
out
,
To
let
him
live
.
Where
he
arrives
he
moves
All
hearts
against
us
.
Edmund
,
I
think
,
is
gone
,
In
pity
of
his
misery
,
to
dispatch
His
nighted
life
;
moreover
to
descry
The
strength
o’
th’
enemy
.
I
must
needs
after
him
,
madam
,
with
my
letter
.
Our
troops
set
forth
tomorrow
.
Stay
with
us
.
The
ways
are
dangerous
.
I
may
not
,
madam
.
My
lady
charged
my
duty
in
this
business
.
Why
should
she
write
to
Edmund
?
Might
not
you
Transport
her
purposes
by
word
?
Belike
,
Some
things
—
I
know
not
what
.
I’ll
love
thee
much
—
Let
me
unseal
the
letter
.
Madam
,
I
had
rather
—
I
know
your
lady
does
not
love
her
husband
;
I
am
sure
of
that
;
and
at
her
late
being
here
,
She
gave
strange
eliads
and
most
speaking
looks
To
noble
Edmund
.
I
know
you
are
of
her
bosom
.
I
,
madam
?
I
speak
in
understanding
.
Y’
are
;
I
know
’t
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
Therefore
I
do
advise
you
take
this
note
:
My
lord
is
dead
;
Edmund
and
I
have
talked
,
And
more
convenient
is
he
for
my
hand
Than
for
your
lady’s
.
You
may
gather
more
.
If
you
do
find
him
,
pray
you
,
give
him
this
,
And
when
your
mistress
hears
thus
much
from
you
,
I
pray
,
desire
her
call
her
wisdom
to
her
.
So
,
fare
you
well
.
If
you
do
chance
to
hear
of
that
blind
traitor
,
Preferment
falls
on
him
that
cuts
him
off
.
Would
I
could
meet
him
,
madam
.
I
should
show
What
party
I
do
follow
.
Fare
thee
well
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Enter
Gloucester
and
Edgar
dressed
as
a
peasant
.
When
shall
I
come
to
th’
top
of
that
same
hill
?
You
do
climb
up
it
now
.
Look
how
we
labor
.
Methinks
the
ground
is
even
.
Horrible
steep
.
Hark
,
do
you
hear
the
sea
?
No
,
truly
.
Why
then
,
your
other
senses
grow
imperfect
By
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
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
You’re
much
deceived
;
in
nothing
am
I
changed
But
in
my
garments
.
Methinks
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
.
Set
me
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
.
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
.
,
walking
away
Now
fare
you
well
,
good
sir
.
With
all
my
heart
.
,
aside
Why
I
do
trifle
thus
with
his
despair
Is
done
to
cure
it
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
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
.
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
?
Away
,
and
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
.
But
have
I
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
.
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
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
Give
me
your
arm
.
He
raises
Gloucester
.
Up
.
So
,
how
is
’t
?
Feel
you
your
legs
?
You
stand
.
Too
well
,
too
well
.
This
is
above
all
strangeness
.
Upon
the
crown
o’
th’
cliff
,
what
thing
was
that
Which
parted
from
you
?
A
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
.
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
.
Bear
free
and
patient
thoughts
.
Enter
Lear
.
But
who
comes
here
?
The
safer
sense
will
ne’er
accommodate
His
master
thus
.
No
,
they
cannot
touch
me
for
coining
.
I
am
the
King
himself
.
O
,
thou
side-piercing
sight
!
Nature’s
above
art
in
that
respect
.
There’s
your
press-money
.
That
fellow
handles
his
bow
like
a
crowkeeper
.
Draw
me
a
clothier’s
yard
.
Look
,
look
,
ACT 4. SC. 6
a
mouse
!
Peace
,
peace
!
This
piece
of
toasted
cheese
will
do
’t
.
There’s
my
gauntlet
;
I’ll
prove
it
on
a
giant
.
Bring
up
the
brown
bills
.
O
,
well
flown
,
bird
!
I’
th’
clout
,
i’
th’
clout
!
Hewgh
!
Give
the
word
.
Sweet
marjoram
.
Pass
.
I
know
that
voice
.
Ha
!
Goneril
with
a
white
beard
?
They
flattered
me
like
a
dog
and
told
me
I
had
the
white
hairs
in
my
beard
ere
the
black
ones
were
there
.
To
say
ay
and
no
to
everything
that
I
said
ay
and
no
to
was
no
good
divinity
.
When
the
rain
came
to
wet
me
once
and
the
wind
to
make
me
chatter
,
when
the
thunder
would
not
peace
at
my
bidding
,
there
I
found
’em
,
there
I
smelt
’em
out
.
Go
to
.
They
are
not
men
o’
their
words
;
they
told
me
I
was
everything
.
’Tis
a
lie
.
I
am
not
ague-proof
.
The
trick
of
that
voice
I
do
well
remember
.
Is
’t
not
the
King
?
Ay
,
every
inch
a
king
.
When
I
do
stare
,
see
how
the
subject
quakes
.
I
pardon
that
man’s
life
.
What
was
thy
cause
?
Adultery
?
Thou
shalt
not
die
.
Die
for
adultery
?
No
.
The
wren
goes
to
’t
,
and
the
small
gilded
fly
does
lecher
in
my
sight
.
Let
copulation
thrive
,
for
Gloucester’s
bastard
son
was
kinder
to
his
father
than
my
daughters
got
’tween
the
lawful
sheets
.
To
’t
,
luxury
,
pell-mell
,
for
I
lack
soldiers
.
Behold
yond
simp’ring
dame
,
whose
face
between
her
forks
presages
snow
,
that
minces
virtue
and
does
shake
the
head
to
hear
of
pleasure’s
name
.
The
fitchew
nor
the
soiled
horse
goes
to
’t
with
a
more
riotous
appetite
.
Down
from
the
waist
they
are
centaurs
,
though
women
all
above
.
But
to
the
girdle
do
the
gods
inherit
;
beneath
is
all
the
fiend’s
.
There’s
hell
,
ACT 4. SC. 6
there’s
darkness
,
there
is
the
sulphurous
pit
;
burning
,
scalding
,
stench
,
consumption
!
Fie
,
fie
,
fie
,
pah
,
pah
!
Give
me
an
ounce
of
civet
,
good
apothecary
;
sweeten
my
imagination
.
There’s
money
for
thee
.
O
,
let
me
kiss
that
hand
!
Let
me
wipe
it
first
;
it
smells
of
mortality
.
O
ruined
piece
of
nature
!
This
great
world
Shall
so
wear
out
to
naught
.
Dost
thou
know
me
?
I
remember
thine
eyes
well
enough
.
Dost
thou
squinny
at
me
?
No
,
do
thy
worst
,
blind
Cupid
,
I’ll
not
love
.
Read
thou
this
challenge
.
Mark
but
the
penning
of
it
.
Were
all
thy
letters
suns
,
I
could
not
see
.
,
aside
I
would
not
take
this
from
report
.
It
is
,
And
my
heart
breaks
at
it
.
Read
.
What
,
with
the
case
of
eyes
?
O
Oho
ho
,
are
you
there
with
me
?
No
eyes
in
your
head
,
nor
no
money
in
your
purse
?
Your
eyes
are
in
a
heavy
case
,
your
purse
in
a
light
,
yet
you
see
how
this
world
goes
.
I
see
it
feelingly
.
What
,
art
mad
?
A
man
may
see
how
this
world
goes
with
no
eyes
.
Look
with
thine
ears
.
See
how
yond
justice
rails
upon
yond
simple
thief
.
Hark
in
thine
ear
.
Change
places
and
,
handy-dandy
,
which
is
the
justice
,
which
is
the
thief
?
Thou
hast
seen
a
farmer’s
dog
bark
at
a
beggar
?
Ay
,
sir
.
And
the
creature
run
from
the
cur
?
There
thou
might’st
behold
the
great
image
of
authority
:
a
dog’s
obeyed
in
office
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
Thou
rascal
beadle
,
hold
thy
bloody
hand
!
Why
dost
thou
lash
that
whore
?
Strip
thy
own
back
.
Thou
hotly
lusts
to
use
her
in
that
kind
For
which
thou
whipp’st
her
.
The
usurer
hangs
the
cozener
.
Through
tattered
clothes
small
vices
do
appear
.
Robes
and
furred
gowns
hide
all
.
Plate
sin
with
gold
,
And
the
strong
lance
of
justice
hurtless
breaks
.
Arm
it
in
rags
,
a
pygmy’s
straw
does
pierce
it
.
None
does
offend
,
none
,
I
say
,
none
;
I’ll
able
’em
.
Take
that
of
me
,
my
friend
,
who
have
the
power
To
seal
th’
accuser’s
lips
.
Get
thee
glass
eyes
,
And
like
a
scurvy
politician
Seem
to
see
the
things
thou
dost
not
.
Now
,
now
,
now
,
now
.
Pull
off
my
boots
.
Harder
,
harder
.
So
.
,
aside
O
,
matter
and
impertinency
mixed
,
Reason
in
madness
!
If
thou
wilt
weep
my
fortunes
,
take
my
eyes
.
I
know
thee
well
enough
;
thy
name
is
Gloucester
.
Thou
must
be
patient
.
We
came
crying
hither
;
Thou
know’st
the
first
time
that
we
smell
the
air
We
wawl
and
cry
.
I
will
preach
to
thee
.
Mark
.
Alack
,
alack
the
day
!
When
we
are
born
,
we
cry
that
we
are
come
To
this
great
stage
of
fools
.
—
This’
a
good
block
.
It
were
a
delicate
stratagem
to
shoe
A
troop
of
horse
with
felt
.
I’ll
put
’t
in
proof
,
And
when
I
have
stol’n
upon
these
son-in-laws
,
Then
kill
,
kill
,
kill
,
kill
,
kill
,
kill
!
Enter
a
Gentleman
and
Attendants
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
,
noticing
Lear
O
,
here
he
is
.
To
an
Attendant
.
Lay
hand
upon
him
.
—
Sir
,
Your
most
dear
daughter
—
No
rescue
?
What
,
a
prisoner
?
I
am
even
The
natural
fool
of
Fortune
fortune
.
Use
me
well
.
You
shall
have
ransom
.
Let
me
have
surgeons
;
I
am
cut
to
to’
th’
brains
.
You
shall
have
anything
.
No
seconds
?
All
myself
?
Why
,
this
would
make
a
man
a
man
of
salt
,
To
use
his
eyes
for
garden
waterpots
,
Ay
,
and
laying
autumn’s
dust
.
I
will
die
bravely
like
a
smug
bridegroom
.
What
?
I
will
be
jovial
.
Come
,
come
,
I
am
a
king
,
Masters
,
know
you
that
?
You
are
a
royal
one
,
and
we
obey
you
.
Then
there’s
life
in
’t
.
Come
,
an
you
get
it
,
you
shall
get
it
by
running
.
Sa
,
sa
,
sa
,
sa
.
The
King
exits
running
pursued
by
Attendants
.
A
sight
most
pitiful
in
the
meanest
wretch
,
Past
speaking
of
in
a
king
.
Thou
hast
a
daughter
Who
redeems
nature
from
the
general
curse
Which
twain
have
brought
her
to
.
Hail
,
gentle
sir
.
Sir
,
speed
you
.
What’s
your
will
?
Do
you
hear
aught
,
sir
,
of
a
battle
toward
?
Most
sure
and
vulgar
.
Everyone
hears
that
,
Which
can
distinguish
sound
.
But
,
by
your
favor
,
How
near’s
the
other
army
?
ACT 4. SC. 6
Near
and
on
speedy
foot
.
The
main
descry
Stands
on
the
hourly
thought
.
I
thank
you
,
sir
.
That’s
all
.
Though
that
the
Queen
on
special
cause
is
here
,
Her
army
is
moved
on
.
I
thank
you
,
sir
.
Gentleman
exits
.
You
ever-gentle
gods
,
take
my
breath
from
me
;
Let
not
my
worser
spirit
tempt
me
again
To
die
before
you
please
.
Well
pray
you
,
father
.
Now
,
good
sir
,
what
are
you
?
A
most
poor
man
,
made
tame
to
Fortune’s
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
.
Hearty
thanks
.
The
bounty
and
the
benison
of
heaven
To
boot
,
and
boot
.
Enter
Oswald
,
the
Steward
.
,
drawing
his
sword
A
proclaimed
prize
!
Most
happy
!
That
eyeless
head
of
thine
was
first
framed
flesh
To
raise
my
fortunes
.
Thou
old
unhappy
traitor
,
Briefly
thyself
remember
;
the
sword
is
out
That
must
destroy
thee
.
Now
let
thy
friendly
hand
Put
strength
enough
to
’t
.
Edgar
steps
between
Gloucester
and
Oswald
.
Wherefore
,
bold
peasant
,
ACT 4. SC. 6
Dar’st
thou
support
a
published
traitor
?
Hence
,
Lest
that
th’
infection
of
his
fortune
take
Like
hold
on
thee
.
Let
go
his
arm
.
Chill
not
let
go
,
zir
,
without
vurther
’casion
.
Let
go
,
slave
,
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
.
,
falling
Slave
,
thou
hast
slain
me
.
Villain
,
take
my
purse
.
If
ever
thou
wilt
thrive
,
bury
my
body
,
And
give
the
letters
which
thou
find’st
about
me
To
Edmund
,
Earl
of
Gloucester
.
Seek
him
out
Upon
the
English
party
.
O
,
untimely
death
!
Death
!
He
dies
.
I
know
thee
well
,
a
serviceable
villain
,
As
duteous
to
the
vices
of
thy
mistress
As
badness
would
desire
.
What
,
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
ACT 4. SC. 7
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
.
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
.
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
.
Scene
7
Enter
Cordelia
,
Kent
in
disguise
,
Doctor
,
and
Gentleman
.
O
,
thou
good
Kent
,
how
shall
I
live
and
work
To
match
thy
goodness
?
My
life
will
be
too
short
,
And
every
measure
fail
me
.
To
be
acknowledged
,
madam
,
is
o’erpaid
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
All
my
reports
go
with
the
modest
truth
,
Nor
more
,
nor
clipped
,
but
so
.
Be
better
suited
.
These
weeds
are
memories
of
those
worser
hours
.
I
prithee
put
them
off
.
Pardon
,
dear
madam
.
Yet
to
be
known
shortens
my
made
intent
.
My
boon
I
make
it
that
you
know
me
not
Till
time
and
I
think
meet
.
Then
be
’t
so
,
my
good
lord
.
—
How
does
the
King
?
Madam
,
sleeps
still
.
O
,
you
kind
gods
,
Cure
this
great
breach
in
his
abusèd
nature
!
Th’
untuned
and
jarring
senses
,
O
,
wind
up
,
Of
this
child-changèd
father
!
So
please
your
Majesty
That
we
may
wake
the
King
?
He
hath
slept
long
.
Be
governed
by
your
knowledge
,
and
proceed
I’
th’
sway
of
your
own
will
.
Is
he
arrayed
?
Enter
Lear
in
a
chair
carried
by
Servants
.
Ay
,
madam
.
In
the
heaviness
of
sleep
,
We
put
fresh
garments
on
him
.
Be
by
,
good
madam
,
when
we
do
awake
him
.
I
doubt
not
of
his
temperance
.
Very
well
.
Music
.
Please
you
,
draw
near
.
—
Louder
the
music
there
.
,
kissing
Lear
O
,
my
dear
father
,
restoration
hang
ACT 4. SC. 7
Thy
medicine
on
my
lips
,
and
let
this
kiss
Repair
those
violent
harms
that
my
two
sisters
Have
in
thy
reverence
made
.
Kind
and
dear
princess
.
Had
you
not
been
their
father
,
these
white
flakes
Did
challenge
pity
of
them
.
Was
this
a
face
To
be
opposed
against
the
jarring
winds
?
To
stand
against
the
deep
dread-bolted
thunder
,
In
the
most
terrible
and
nimble
stroke
Of
quick
cross-lightning
?
To
watch
,
poor
perdu
,
With
this
thin
helm
?
Mine
enemy’s
dog
,
Though
he
had
bit
me
,
should
have
stood
that
night
Against
my
fire
.
And
wast
thou
fain
,
poor
father
,
To
hovel
thee
with
swine
and
rogues
forlorn
In
short
and
musty
straw
?
Alack
,
alack
,
’Tis
wonder
that
thy
life
and
wits
at
once
Had
not
concluded
all
.
—
He
wakes
.
Speak
to
him
.
Madam
,
do
you
;
’tis
fittest
.
How
does
my
royal
lord
?
How
fares
your
Majesty
?
You
do
me
wrong
to
take
me
out
o’
th’
grave
.
Thou
art
a
soul
in
bliss
,
but
I
am
bound
Upon
a
wheel
of
fire
,
that
mine
own
tears
Do
scald
like
molten
lead
.
Sir
,
do
you
know
me
?
You
are
a
spirit
,
I
know
.
Where
did
you
die
?
Still
,
still
,
far
wide
.
He’s
scarce
awake
.
Let
him
alone
awhile
.
Where
have
I
been
?
Where
am
I
?
Fair
daylight
?
I
am
mightily
abused
;
I
should
e’en
die
with
pity
ACT 4. SC. 7
To
see
another
thus
.
I
know
not
what
to
say
.
I
will
not
swear
these
are
my
hands
.
Let’s
see
.
I
feel
this
pinprick
.
Would
I
were
assured
Of
my
condition
!
O
,
look
upon
me
,
sir
,
And
hold
your
hand
in
benediction
o’er
me
.
No
,
sir
,
you
must
not
kneel
.
Pray
do
not
mock
:
I
am
a
very
foolish
fond
old
man
,
Fourscore
and
upward
,
not
an
hour
more
nor
less
,
And
to
deal
plainly
,
I
fear
I
am
not
in
my
perfect
mind
.
Methinks
I
should
know
you
and
know
this
man
,
Yet
I
am
doubtful
,
for
I
am
mainly
ignorant
What
place
this
is
,
and
all
the
skill
I
have
Remembers
not
these
garments
;
nor
I
know
not
Where
I
did
lodge
last
night
.
Do
not
laugh
at
me
,
For
,
as
I
am
a
man
,
I
think
this
lady
To
be
my
child
Cordelia
.
,
weeping
And
so
I
am
;
I
am
.
Be
your
tears
wet
?
Yes
,
faith
.
I
pray
,
weep
not
.
If
you
have
poison
for
me
,
I
will
drink
it
.
I
know
you
do
not
love
me
,
for
your
sisters
Have
,
as
I
do
remember
,
done
me
wrong
.
You
have
some
cause
;
they
have
not
.
No
cause
,
no
cause
.
Am
I
in
France
?
In
your
own
kingdom
,
sir
.
Do
not
abuse
me
.
Be
comforted
,
good
madam
.
The
great
rage
,
You
see
,
is
killed
in
him
,
and
yet
it
is
danger
To
make
him
even
o’er
the
time
he
has
lost
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
Desire
him
to
go
in
.
Trouble
him
no
more
Till
further
settling
.
Will
’t
please
your
Highness
walk
?
You
must
bear
with
me
.
Pray
you
now
,
forget
,
and
forgive
.
I
am
old
and
foolish
.
They
exit
.
Kent
and
Gentleman
remain
.
Holds
it
true
,
sir
,
that
the
Duke
of
Cornwall
was
so
slain
?
Most
certain
,
sir
.
Who
is
conductor
of
his
people
?
As
’tis
said
,
the
bastard
son
of
Gloucester
.
They
say
Edgar
,
his
banished
son
,
is
with
the
Earl
of
Kent
in
Germany
.
Report
is
changeable
.
’Tis
time
to
look
about
.
The
powers
of
the
kingdom
approach
apace
.
The
arbitrament
is
like
to
be
bloody
.
Fare
you
well
,
sir
.
He
exits
.
My
point
and
period
will
be
throughly
wrought
,
Or
well
,
or
ill
,
as
this
day’s
battle’s
fought
.
He
exits
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
,
Edmund
,
Regan
,
Gentlemen
,
and
Soldiers
.
,
to
a
Gentleman
Know
of
the
Duke
if
his
last
purpose
hold
,
Or
whether
since
he
is
advised
by
aught
To
change
the
course
.
He’s
full
of
alteration
And
self-reproving
.
Bring
his
constant
pleasure
.
A
Gentleman
exits
.
Our
sister’s
man
is
certainly
miscarried
.
’Tis
to
be
doubted
,
madam
.
Now
,
sweet
lord
,
You
know
the
goodness
I
intend
upon
you
;
Tell
me
but
truly
,
but
then
speak
the
truth
,
Do
you
not
love
my
sister
?
In
honored
love
.
But
have
you
never
found
my
brother’s
way
To
the
forfended
place
?
That
thought
abuses
you
.
I
am
doubtful
that
you
have
been
conjunct
And
bosomed
with
her
as
far
as
we
call
hers
.
No
,
by
mine
honor
,
madam
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
I
never
shall
endure
her
.
Dear
my
lord
,
Be
not
familiar
with
her
.
Fear
me
not
.
She
and
the
Duke
,
her
husband
.
Enter
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
,
Albany
,
Goneril
,
Soldiers
.
,
aside
I
had
rather
lose
the
battle
than
that
sister
Should
loosen
him
and
me
.
Our
very
loving
sister
,
well
bemet
.
—
Sir
,
this
I
heard
:
the
King
is
come
to
his
daughter
,
With
others
whom
the
rigor
of
our
state
Forced
to
cry
out
.
Where
I
could
not
be
honest
,
I
never
yet
was
valiant
.
For
this
business
,
It
touches
us
as
France
invades
our
land
,
Not
bolds
the
King
,
with
others
whom
,
I
fear
,
Most
just
and
heavy
causes
make
oppose
.
Sir
,
you
speak
nobly
.
Why
is
this
reasoned
?
Combine
together
’gainst
the
enemy
,
For
these
domestic
and
particular
broils
Are
not
the
question
here
.
Let’s
then
determine
With
th’
ancient
of
war
on
our
proceeding
.
I
shall
attend
you
presently
at
your
tent
.
Sister
,
you’ll
go
with
us
?
No
.
’Tis
most
convenient
.
Pray
,
go
with
us
.
,
aside
Oho
,
I
know
the
riddle
.
—
I
will
go
.
They
begin
to
exit
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Enter
Edgar
dressed
as
a
peasant
.
,
to
Albany
If
e’er
your
Grace
had
speech
with
man
so
poor
,
Hear
me
one
word
.
,
to
those
exiting
I’ll
overtake
you
.
—
Speak
.
Both
the
armies
exit
.
,
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
.
Stay
till
I
have
read
the
letter
.
I
was
forbid
it
.
When
time
shall
serve
,
let
but
the
herald
cry
And
I’ll
appear
again
.
He
exits
.
Why
,
fare
thee
well
.
I
will
o’erlook
thy
paper
.
Enter
Edmund
.
The
enemy’s
in
view
.
Draw
up
your
powers
.
Giving
him
a
paper
.
Here
is
the
guess
of
their
true
strength
and
forces
By
diligent
discovery
.
But
your
haste
Is
now
urged
on
you
.
We
will
greet
the
time
.
He
exits
.
To
both
these
sisters
have
I
sworn
my
love
,
Each
jealous
of
the
other
as
the
stung
Are
of
the
adder
.
Which
of
them
shall
I
take
?
ACT 5. SC. 2
Both
?
One
?
Or
neither
?
Neither
can
be
enjoyed
If
both
remain
alive
.
To
take
the
widow
Exasperates
,
makes
mad
her
sister
Goneril
,
And
hardly
shall
I
carry
out
my
side
,
Her
husband
being
alive
.
Now
,
then
,
we’ll
use
His
countenance
for
the
battle
,
which
,
being
done
,
Let
her
who
would
be
rid
of
him
devise
His
speedy
taking
off
.
As
for
the
mercy
Which
he
intends
to
Lear
and
to
Cordelia
,
The
battle
done
and
they
within
our
power
,
Shall
never
see
his
pardon
,
for
my
state
Stands
on
me
to
defend
,
not
to
debate
.
He
exits
.
Scene
2
Alarum
within
.
Enter
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
,
Lear
,
Cordelia
,
and
Soldiers
,
over
the
stage
,
and
exit
.
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
.
Grace
go
with
you
,
sir
.
Edgar
exits
.
Alarum
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
.
No
further
,
sir
.
A
man
may
rot
even
here
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
What
,
in
ill
thoughts
again
?
Men
must
endure
Their
going
hence
even
as
their
coming
hither
.
Ripeness
is
all
.
Come
on
.
And
that’s
true
too
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
in
conquest
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
,
Edmund
;
Lear
and
Cordelia
as
prisoners
;
Soldiers
,
Captain
.
Some
officers
take
them
away
.
Good
guard
Until
their
greater
pleasures
first
be
known
That
are
to
censure
them
.
,
to
Lear
We
are
not
the
first
Who
with
best
meaning
have
incurred
the
worst
.
For
thee
,
oppressèd
king
,
I
am
cast
down
.
Myself
could
else
outfrown
false
Fortune’s
frown
.
Shall
we
not
see
these
daughters
and
these
sisters
?
No
,
no
,
no
,
no
.
Come
,
let’s
away
to
prison
.
We
two
alone
will
sing
like
birds
i’
th’
cage
.
When
thou
dost
ask
me
blessing
,
I’ll
kneel
down
And
ask
of
thee
forgiveness
.
So
we’ll
live
,
And
pray
,
and
sing
,
and
tell
old
tales
,
and
laugh
At
gilded
butterflies
,
and
hear
poor
rogues
Talk
of
court
news
,
and
we’ll
talk
with
them
too
—
Who
loses
and
who
wins
;
who’s
in
,
who’s
out
—
And
take
upon
’s
the
mystery
of
things
,
As
if
we
were
God’s
spies
.
And
we’ll
wear
out
,
In
a
walled
prison
,
packs
and
sects
of
great
ones
That
ebb
and
flow
by
th’
moon
.
Take
them
away
.
Upon
such
sacrifices
,
my
Cordelia
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
The
gods
themselves
throw
incense
.
Have
I
caught
thee
?
He
that
parts
us
shall
bring
a
brand
from
heaven
And
fire
us
hence
like
foxes
.
Wipe
thine
eyes
.
The
good
years
shall
devour
them
,
flesh
and
fell
,
Ere
they
shall
make
us
weep
.
We’ll
see
’em
starved
first
.
Come
.
Lear
and
Cordelia
exit
,
with
Soldiers
.
Come
hither
,
captain
.
Hark
.
Handing
him
a
paper
.
Take
thou
this
note
.
Go
follow
them
to
prison
.
One
step
I
have
advanced
thee
.
If
thou
dost
As
this
instructs
thee
,
thou
dost
make
thy
way
To
noble
fortunes
.
Know
thou
this
:
that
men
Are
as
the
time
is
;
to
be
tender-minded
Does
not
become
a
sword
.
Thy
great
employment
Will
not
bear
question
.
Either
say
thou
’lt
do
’t
,
Or
thrive
by
other
means
.
I’ll
do
’t
,
my
lord
.
About
it
,
and
write
happy
when
th’
hast
done
.
Mark
,
I
say
,
instantly
,
and
carry
it
so
As
I
have
set
it
down
.
I
cannot
draw
a
cart
,
nor
eat
dried
oats
.
If
it
be
man’s
work
,
I’ll
do
’t
.
Captain
exits
.
Flourish
.
Enter
Albany
,
Goneril
,
Regan
,
Soldiers
and
a
Captain
.
,
to
Edmund
Sir
,
you
have
showed
today
your
valiant
strain
,
And
Fortune
led
you
well
.
You
have
the
captives
Who
were
the
opposites
of
this
day’s
strife
.
I
do
require
them
of
you
,
so
to
use
them
As
we
shall
find
their
merits
and
our
safety
May
equally
determine
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Sir
,
I
thought
it
fit
To
send
the
old
and
miserable
king
To
some
retention
and
appointed
guard
,
Whose
age
had
charms
in
it
,
whose
title
more
,
To
pluck
the
common
bosom
on
his
side
And
turn
our
impressed
lances
in
our
eyes
,
Which
do
command
them
.
With
him
I
sent
the
Queen
,
My
reason
all
the
same
,
and
they
are
ready
Tomorrow
,
or
at
further
space
,
t’
appear
Where
you
shall
hold
your
session
.
At
this
time
We
sweat
and
bleed
.
The
friend
hath
lost
his
friend
,
And
the
best
quarrels
in
the
heat
are
cursed
By
those
that
feel
their
sharpness
.
The
question
of
Cordelia
and
her
father
Requires
a
fitter
place
.
Sir
,
by
your
patience
,
I
hold
you
but
a
subject
of
this
war
,
Not
as
a
brother
.
That’s
as
we
list
to
grace
him
.
Methinks
our
pleasure
might
have
been
demanded
Ere
you
had
spoke
so
far
.
He
led
our
powers
,
Bore
the
commission
of
my
place
and
person
,
The
which
immediacy
may
well
stand
up
And
call
itself
your
brother
.
Not
so
hot
.
In
his
own
grace
he
doth
exalt
himself
More
than
in
your
addition
.
In
my
rights
,
By
me
invested
,
he
compeers
the
best
.
That
were
the
most
if
he
should
husband
you
.
Jesters
do
oft
prove
prophets
.
Holla
,
holla
!
That
eye
that
told
you
so
looked
but
asquint
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Lady
,
I
am
not
well
,
else
I
should
answer
From
a
full-flowing
stomach
.
To
Edmund
.
General
,
Take
thou
my
soldiers
,
prisoners
,
patrimony
.
Dispose
of
them
,
of
me
;
the
walls
is
thine
.
Witness
the
world
that
I
create
thee
here
My
lord
and
master
.
Mean
you
to
enjoy
him
?
The
let-alone
lies
not
in
your
goodwill
.
Nor
in
thine
,
lord
.
Half-blooded
fellow
,
yes
.
,
to
Edmund
Let
the
drum
strike
,
and
prove
my
title
thine
.
Stay
yet
,
hear
reason
.
—
Edmund
,
I
arrest
thee
On
capital
treason
;
and
,
in
thine
attaint
,
This
gilded
serpent
.
—
For
your
claim
,
fair
sister
,
I
bar
it
in
the
interest
of
my
wife
.
’Tis
she
is
subcontracted
to
this
lord
,
And
I
,
her
husband
,
contradict
your
banns
.
If
you
will
marry
,
make
your
loves
to
me
.
My
lady
is
bespoke
.
An
interlude
!
Thou
art
armed
,
Gloucester
.
Let
the
trumpet
sound
.
If
none
appear
to
prove
upon
thy
person
Thy
heinous
,
manifest
,
and
many
treasons
,
There
is
my
pledge
.
He
throws
down
a
glove
.
I’ll
make
it
on
thy
heart
,
Ere
I
taste
bread
,
thou
art
in
nothing
less
Than
I
have
here
proclaimed
thee
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Sick
,
O
,
sick
!
,
aside
If
not
,
I’ll
ne’er
trust
medicine
.
There’s
my
exchange
.
He
throws
down
a
glove
.
What
in
the
world
he
is
That
names
me
traitor
,
villain-like
he
lies
.
Call
by
the
trumpet
.
He
that
dares
approach
,
On
him
,
on
you
,
who
not
,
I
will
maintain
My
truth
and
honor
firmly
.
A
herald
,
ho
!
A
herald
,
ho
,
a
herald
!
Trust
to
thy
single
virtue
,
for
thy
soldiers
,
All
levied
in
my
name
,
have
in
my
name
Took
their
discharge
.
My
sickness
grows
upon
me
.
She
is
not
well
.
Convey
her
to
my
tent
.
Regan
is
helped
to
exit
.
Enter
a
Herald
.
Come
hither
,
herald
.
Let
the
trumpet
sound
,
And
read
out
this
.
He
hands
the
Herald
a
paper
.
Sound
,
trumpet
!
A
trumpet
sounds
.
reads
.
If
any
man
of
quality
or
degree
,
within
the
lists
of
the
army
,
will
maintain
upon
Edmund
,
supposed
Earl
of
Gloucester
,
that
he
is
a
manifold
traitor
,
let
him
appear
by
the
third
sound
of
the
trumpet
.
He
is
bold
in
his
defense
.
First
trumpet
sounds
.
Again
!
Second
trumpet
sounds
.
Again
!
Third
trumpet
sounds
.
Trumpet
answers
within
.
Enter
Edgar
armed
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
,
to
Herald
Ask
him
his
purposes
,
why
he
appears
Upon
this
call
o’
th’
trumpet
.
What
are
you
?
Your
name
,
your
quality
,
and
why
you
answer
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
.
Which
is
that
adversary
?
What’s
he
that
speaks
for
Edmund
,
Earl
of
Gloucester
?
Himself
.
What
sayest
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
.
In
wisdom
I
should
ask
thy
name
,
But
since
thy
outside
looks
so
fair
and
warlike
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
And
that
thy
tongue
some
say
of
breeding
breathes
,
What
safe
and
nicely
I
might
well
delay
By
rule
of
knighthood
,
I
disdain
and
spurn
.
Back
do
I
toss
these
treasons
to
thy
head
,
With
the
hell-hated
lie
o’erwhelm
thy
heart
,
Which
,
for
they
yet
glance
by
and
scarcely
bruise
,
This
sword
of
mine
shall
give
them
instant
way
,
Where
they
shall
rest
forever
.
Trumpets
,
speak
!
He
draws
his
sword
.
Alarums
.
Fights
.
Edmund
falls
,
wounded
.
,
to
Edgar
Save
him
,
save
him
!
This
is
practice
,
Gloucester
.
By
th’
law
of
war
,
thou
wast
not
bound
to
answer
An
unknown
opposite
.
Thou
art
not
vanquished
,
But
cozened
and
beguiled
.
Shut
your
mouth
,
dame
,
Or
with
this
paper
shall
I
stopple
it
.
—
Hold
,
sir
.
—
Thou
worse
than
any
name
,
read
thine
own
evil
.
No
tearing
,
lady
.
I
perceive
you
know
it
.
Say
if
I
do
;
the
laws
are
mine
,
not
thine
.
Who
can
arraign
me
for
’t
?
Most
monstrous
!
O
!
Know’st
thou
this
paper
?
Ask
me
not
what
I
know
.
She
exits
.
Go
after
her
,
she’s
desperate
.
Govern
her
.
A
Soldier
exits
.
,
to
Edgar
What
you
have
charged
me
with
,
that
have
I
done
,
And
more
,
much
more
.
The
time
will
bring
it
out
.
’Tis
past
,
and
so
am
I
.
But
what
art
thou
That
hast
this
fortune
on
me
?
If
thou
’rt
noble
,
I
do
forgive
thee
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
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
.
Th’
hast
spoken
right
.
’Tis
true
.
The
wheel
is
come
full
circle
;
I
am
here
.
,
to
Edgar
Methought
thy
very
gait
did
prophesy
A
royal
nobleness
.
I
must
embrace
thee
.
Let
sorrow
split
my
heart
if
ever
I
Did
hate
thee
or
thy
father
!
Worthy
prince
,
I
know
’t
.
Where
have
you
hid
yourself
?
How
have
you
known
the
miseries
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
)
ACT 5. SC. 3
’Twixt
two
extremes
of
passion
,
joy
and
grief
,
Burst
smilingly
.
This
speech
of
yours
hath
moved
me
,
And
shall
perchance
do
good
.
But
speak
you
on
.
You
look
as
you
had
something
more
to
say
.
If
there
be
more
,
more
woeful
,
hold
it
in
,
For
I
am
almost
ready
to
dissolve
,
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
.
But
who
was
this
?
Kent
,
sir
,
the
banished
Kent
,
who
in
disguise
Followed
his
enemy
king
and
did
him
service
Improper
for
a
slave
.
Enter
a
Gentleman
with
a
bloody
knife
.
Help
,
help
,
O
,
help
!
What
kind
of
help
?
,
to
Gentleman
Speak
,
man
!
What
means
this
bloody
knife
?
ACT 5. SC. 3
’Tis
hot
,
it
smokes
!
It
came
even
from
the
heart
Of
—
O
,
she’s
dead
!
Who
dead
?
Speak
,
man
.
Your
lady
,
sir
,
your
lady
.
And
her
sister
By
her
is
poisoned
.
She
confesses
it
.
I
was
contracted
to
them
both
.
All
three
Now
marry
in
an
instant
.
Here
comes
Kent
.
Enter
Kent
.
,
to
the
Gentleman
Produce
the
bodies
,
be
they
alive
or
dead
.
Gentleman
exits
.
This
judgment
of
the
heavens
,
that
makes
us
tremble
,
Touches
us
not
with
pity
.
O
,
is
this
he
?
To
Kent
.
The
time
will
not
allow
the
compliment
Which
very
manners
urges
.
I
am
come
To
bid
my
king
and
master
aye
goodnight
.
Is
he
not
here
?
Great
thing
of
us
forgot
!
Speak
,
Edmund
,
where’s
the
King
?
And
where’s
Cordelia
?
Goneril
and
Regan’s
bodies
brought
out
.
Seest
thou
this
object
,
Kent
?
Alack
,
why
thus
?
Yet
Edmund
was
beloved
.
The
one
the
other
poisoned
for
my
sake
,
And
after
slew
herself
.
Even
so
.
—
Cover
their
faces
.
I
pant
for
life
.
Some
good
I
mean
to
do
ACT 5. SC. 3
Despite
of
mine
own
nature
.
Quickly
send
—
Be
brief
in
it
—
to
th’
castle
,
for
my
writ
Is
on
the
life
of
Lear
,
and
on
Cordelia
.
Nay
,
send
in
time
.
Run
,
run
,
O
,
run
!
To
who
,
my
lord
?
To
Edmund
.
Who
has
the
office
?
Send
Thy
token
of
reprieve
.
Well
thought
on
.
Take
my
sword
.
Give
it
the
Captain
.
,
to
a
Soldier
Haste
thee
for
thy
life
.
The
Soldier
exits
with
Edmund’s
sword
.
,
to
Albany
He
hath
commission
from
thy
wife
and
me
To
hang
Cordelia
in
the
prison
,
and
To
lay
the
blame
upon
her
own
despair
,
That
she
fordid
herself
.
The
gods
defend
her
!
—
Bear
him
hence
awhile
.
Edmund
is
carried
off
.
Enter
Lear
with
Cordelia
in
his
arms
,
followed
by
a
Gentleman
.
Howl
,
howl
,
howl
!
O
,
you
are
men
of
stones
!
Had
I
your
tongues
and
eyes
,
I’d
use
them
so
That
heaven’s
vault
should
crack
.
She’s
gone
forever
.
I
know
when
one
is
dead
and
when
one
lives
.
She’s
dead
as
earth
.
—
Lend
me
a
looking
glass
.
If
that
her
breath
will
mist
or
stain
the
stone
,
Why
,
then
she
lives
.
Is
this
the
promised
end
?
Or
image
of
that
horror
?
ACT 5. SC. 3
Fall
and
cease
.
This
feather
stirs
.
She
lives
.
If
it
be
so
,
It
is
a
chance
which
does
redeem
all
sorrows
That
ever
I
have
felt
.
O
,
my
good
master
—
Prithee
,
away
.
’Tis
noble
Kent
,
your
friend
.
A
plague
upon
you
,
murderers
,
traitors
all
!
I
might
have
saved
her
.
Now
she’s
gone
forever
.
—
Cordelia
,
Cordelia
,
stay
a
little
.
Ha
!
What
is
’t
thou
sayst
?
—
Her
voice
was
ever
soft
,
Gentle
,
and
low
,
an
excellent
thing
in
woman
.
I
killed
the
slave
that
was
a-hanging
thee
.
’Tis
true
,
my
lords
,
he
did
.
Did
I
not
,
fellow
?
I
have
seen
the
day
,
with
my
good
biting
falchion
I
would
have
made
him
skip
.
I
am
old
now
,
And
these
same
crosses
spoil
me
.
To
Kent
.
Who
are
you
?
Mine
eyes
are
not
o’
th’
best
.
I’ll
tell
you
straight
.
If
Fortune
brag
of
two
she
loved
and
hated
,
One
of
them
we
behold
.
This
is
a
dull
sight
.
Are
you
not
Kent
?
The
same
,
Your
servant
Kent
.
Where
is
your
servant
Caius
?
He’s
a
good
fellow
,
I
can
tell
you
that
.
He’ll
strike
and
quickly
too
.
He’s
dead
and
rotten
.
No
,
my
good
lord
,
I
am
the
very
man
—
ACT 5. SC. 3
I’ll
see
that
straight
.
That
from
your
first
of
difference
and
decay
Have
followed
your
sad
steps
.
You
are
welcome
hither
.
Nor
no
man
else
.
All’s
cheerless
,
dark
,
and
deadly
.
Your
eldest
daughters
have
fordone
themselves
,
And
desperately
are
dead
.
Ay
,
so
I
think
.
He
knows
not
what
he
says
,
and
vain
is
it
That
we
present
us
to
him
.
Very
bootless
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
Edmund
is
dead
,
my
lord
.
That’s
but
a
trifle
here
.
—
You
lords
and
noble
friends
,
know
our
intent
:
What
comfort
to
this
great
decay
may
come
Shall
be
applied
.
For
us
,
we
will
resign
,
During
the
life
of
this
old
Majesty
,
To
him
our
absolute
power
;
you
to
your
rights
,
With
boot
and
such
addition
as
your
Honors
Have
more
than
merited
.
All
friends
shall
taste
The
wages
of
their
virtue
,
and
all
foes
The
cup
of
their
deservings
.
O
,
see
,
see
!
And
my
poor
fool
is
hanged
.
No
,
no
,
no
life
?
Why
should
a
dog
,
a
horse
,
a
rat
have
life
,
And
thou
no
breath
at
all
?
Thou
’lt
come
no
more
,
Never
,
never
,
never
,
never
,
never
.
—
Pray
you
undo
this
button
.
Thank
you
,
sir
.
Do
you
see
this
?
Look
on
her
,
look
,
her
lips
,
Look
there
,
look
there
!
He
dies
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
He
faints
.
To
Lear
.
My
lord
,
my
lord
!
Break
,
heart
,
I
prithee
,
break
!
Look
up
,
my
lord
.
Vex
not
his
ghost
.
O
,
let
him
pass
!
He
hates
him
That
would
upon
the
rack
of
this
tough
world
Stretch
him
out
longer
.
He
is
gone
indeed
.
The
wonder
is
he
hath
endured
so
long
.
He
but
usurped
his
life
.
Bear
them
from
hence
.
Our
present
business
Is
general
woe
.
To
Edgar
and
Kent
.
Friends
of
my
soul
,
you
twain
Rule
in
this
realm
,
and
the
gored
state
sustain
.
I
have
a
journey
,
sir
,
shortly
to
go
;
My
master
calls
me
.
I
must
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
.
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