King Lear · Chapter 4Part 4
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Foole. Prythee Nunckle be contented, 'tis a naughtie night to swimme in. Now a little fire in a wilde Field, were like an old Letchers heart, a small spark, all the rest on's body, cold: Looke, heere comes a walking fire
Edg. This is the foule Flibbertigibbet; hee begins at Curfew, and walkes at first Cocke: Hee giues the Web and the Pin, squints the eye, and makes the Hare-lippe; Mildewes the white Wheate, and hurts the poore Creature of earth. Swithold footed thrice the old, He met the Night-Mare, and her nine-fold; Bid her a-light, and her troth-plight, And aroynt thee Witch, aroynt thee
Kent. How fares your Grace? Lear. What's he? Kent. Who's there? What is't you seeke? Glou. What are you there? Your Names? Edg. Poore Tom, that eates the swimming Frog, the Toad, the Tod-pole, the wall-Neut, and the water: that in the furie of his heart, when the foule Fiend rages, eats Cow-dung for Sallets; swallowes the old Rat, and the ditch-Dogge; drinkes the green Mantle of the standing Poole: who is whipt from Tything to Tything, and stockt, punish'd, and imprison'd: who hath three Suites to his backe, sixe shirts to his body: Horse to ride, and weapon to weare: But Mice, and Rats, and such small Deare, Haue bin Toms food, for seuen long yeare: Beware my Follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou Fiend
Glou. What, hath your Grace no better company? Edg. The Prince of Darkenesse is a Gentleman. Modo he's call'd, and Mahu
Glou. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is growne so vilde, that it doth hate what gets it
Edg. Poore Tom's a cold
Glou. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer T' obey in all your daughters hard commands: Though their Iniunction be to barre my doores, And let this Tyrannous night take hold vpon you, Yet haue I ventured to come seeke you out, And bring you where both fire, and food is ready
Lear. First let me talke with this Philosopher, What is the cause of Thunder? Kent. Good my Lord take his offer, Go into th' house
Lear. Ile talke a word with this same lerned Theban: What is your study? Edg. How to preuent the Fiend, and to kill Vermine
Lear. Let me aske you one word in priuate
Kent. Importune him once more to go my Lord, His wits begin t' vnsettle
Glou. Canst thou blame him?
Storm still
His Daughters seeke his death: Ah, that good Kent, He said it would be thus: poore banish'd man: Thou sayest the King growes mad, Ile tell thee Friend I am almost mad my selfe. I had a Sonne, Now out-law'd from my blood: he sought my life But lately: very late: I lou'd him (Friend) No Father his Sonne deerer: true to tell thee, The greefe hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this? I do beseech your grace
Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir: Noble Philosopher, your company
Edg. Tom's a cold
Glou. In fellow there, into th' Houel; keep thee warm
Lear. Come, let's in all
Kent. This way, my Lord
Lear. With him; I will keepe still with my Philosopher
Kent. Good my Lord, sooth him: Let him take the Fellow
Glou. Take him you on
Kent. Sirra, come on: go along with vs
Lear. Come, good Athenian
Glou. No words, no words, hush
Edg. Childe Rowland to the darke Tower came, His word was still, fie, foh, and fumme, I smell the blood of a Brittish man.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.
Corn. I will haue my reuenge, ere I depart his house
Bast. How my Lord, I may be censured, that Nature thus giues way to Loyaltie, something feares mee to thinke of
Cornw. I now perceiue, it was not altogether your Brothers euill disposition made him seeke his death: but a prouoking merit set a-worke by a reprouable badnesse in himselfe
Bast. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be iust? This is the Letter which hee spoake of; which approues him an intelligent partie to the aduantages of France. O Heauens! that this Treason were not; or not I the detector
Corn. Go with me to the Dutchesse
Bast. If the matter of this Paper be certain, you haue mighty businesse in hand
Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earle of Gloucester: seeke out where thy Father is, that hee may bee ready for our apprehension
Bast. If I finde him comforting the King, it will stuffe his suspition more fully. I will perseuer in my course of Loyalty, though the conflict be sore betweene that, and my blood
Corn. I will lay trust vpon thee: and thou shalt finde a deere Father in my loue.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Kent, and Gloucester.
Glou. Heere is better then the open ayre, take it thankfully: I will peece out the comfort with what addition I can: I will not be long from you.
Exit
Kent. All the powre of his wits, haue giuen way to his impatience: the Gods reward your kindnesse. Enter Lear, Edgar, and Foole.
Edg. Fraterretto cals me, and tells me Nero is an Angler in the Lake of Darknesse: pray Innocent, and beware the foule Fiend
Foole. Prythee Nunkle tell me, whether a madman be a Gentleman, or a Yeoman
Lear. A King, a King
Foole. No, he's a Yeoman, that ha's a Gentleman to his Sonne: for hee's a mad Yeoman that sees his Sonne a Gentleman before him
Lear. To haue a thousand with red burning spits Come hizzing in vpon 'em
Edg. Blesse thy fiue wits
Kent. O pitty: Sir, where is the patience now That you so oft haue boasted to retaine? Edg. My teares begin to take his part so much, They marre my counterfetting
Lear. The little dogges, and all; Trey, Blanch, and Sweet-heart: see, they barke at me
Edg. Tom, will throw his head at them: Auaunt you Curres, be thy mouth or blacke or white: Tooth that poysons if it bite: Mastiffe, Grey-hound, Mongrill, Grim, Hound or Spaniell, Brache, or Hym: Or Bobtaile tight, or Troudle taile, Tom will make him weepe and waile, For with throwing thus my head; Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled. Do, de, de, de: sese: Come, march to Wakes and Fayres, And Market Townes: poore Tom thy horne is dry, Lear. Then let them Anatomize Regan: See what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in Nature that make these hard-hearts. You sir, I entertaine for one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will say they are Persian; but let them bee chang'd. Enter Gloster.
Kent. Now good my Lord, lye heere, and rest awhile
Lear. Make no noise, make no noise, draw the Curtaines: so, so, wee'l go to Supper i'th' morning
Foole. And Ile go to bed at noone
Glou. Come hither Friend: Where is the King my Master? Kent. Here Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gon
Glou. Good friend, I prythee take him in thy armes; I haue ore-heard a plot of death vpon him: There is a Litter ready, lay him in't, And driue toward Douer friend, where thou shalt meete Both welcome, and protection. Take vp thy Master, If thou should'st dally halfe an houre, his life With thine, and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured losse. Take vp, take vp, And follow me, that will to some prouision Giue thee quicke conduct. Come, come, away.
Exeunt.
Scena Septima.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Bastard, and Seruants.
Corn. Poste speedily to my Lord your husband, shew him this Letter, the Army of France is landed: seeke out the Traitor Glouster
Reg. Hang him instantly
Gon. Plucke out his eyes
Corn. Leaue him to my displeasure. Edmond, keepe you our Sister company: the reuenges wee are bound to take vppon your Traitorous Father, are not fit for your beholding. Aduice the Duke where you are going, to a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our Postes shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt vs. Farewell deere Sister, farewell my Lord of Glouster. Enter Steward.
How now? Where's the King? Stew. My Lord of Glouster hath conuey'd him hence Some fiue or six and thirty of his Knights Hot Questrists after him, met him at gate, Who, with some other of the Lords, dependants, Are gone with him toward Douer; where they boast To haue well armed Friends
Corn. Get horses for your Mistris
Gon. Farewell sweet Lord, and Sister.
Exit
Corn. Edmund farewell: go seek the Traitor Gloster, Pinnion him like a Theefe, bring him before vs: Though well we may not passe vpon his life Without the forme of Iustice: yet our power Shall do a curt'sie to our wrath, which men May blame, but not comptroll. Enter Gloucester, and Seruants.
Who's there? the Traitor? Reg. Ingratefull Fox, 'tis he
Corn. Binde fast his corky armes
Glou. What meanes your Graces? Good my Friends consider you are my Ghests: Do me no foule play, Friends
Corn. Binde him I say
Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy Traitor
Glou. Vnmercifull Lady, as you are, I'me none
Corn. To this Chaire binde him, Villaine, thou shalt finde
Glou. By the kinde Gods, 'tis most ignobly done To plucke me by the Beard
Reg. So white, and such a Traitor? Glou. Naughty Ladie, These haires which thou dost rauish from my chin Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your Host, With Robbers hands, my hospitable fauours You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? Corn. Come Sir. What Letters had you late from France? Reg. Be simple answer'd, for we know the truth
Corn. And what confederacie haue you with the Traitors, late footed in the Kingdome? Reg. To whose hands You haue sent the Lunaticke King: Speake
Glou. I haue a Letter guessingly set downe Which came from one that's of a newtrall heart, And not from one oppos'd
Corn. Cunning
Reg. And false
Corn. Where hast thou sent the King? Glou. To Douer
Reg. Wherefore to Douer? Was't thou not charg'd at perill
Corn. Wherefore to Douer? Let him answer that
Glou. I am tyed to'th' Stake, And I must stand the Course
Reg. Wherefore to Douer? Glou. Because I would not see thy cruell Nailes Plucke out his poore old eyes: nor thy fierce Sister, In his Annointed flesh, sticke boarish phangs. The Sea, with such a storme as his bare head, In Hell-blacke-night indur'd, would haue buoy'd vp And quench'd the Stelled fires: Yet poore old heart, he holpe the Heauens to raine. If Wolues had at thy Gate howl'd that sterne time, Thou should'st haue said, good Porter turne the Key: All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see The winged Vengeance ouertake such Children
Corn. See't shalt thou neuer. Fellowes hold y Chaire, Vpon these eyes of thine, Ile set my foote
Glou. He that will thinke to liue, till he be old, Giue me some helpe. - O cruell! O you Gods
Reg. One side will mocke another: Th' other too
Corn. If you see vengeance
Seru. Hold your hand, my Lord: I haue seru'd you euer since I was a Childe: But better seruice haue I neuer done you, Then now to bid you hold
Reg. How now, you dogge? Ser. If you did weare a beard vpon your chin, I'ld shake it on this quarrell. What do you meane? Corn. My Villaine? Seru. Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger
Reg. Giue me thy Sword. A pezant stand vp thus?
Killes him.
Ser. Oh I am slaine: my Lord, you haue one eye left To see some mischefe on him. Oh
Corn. Lest it see more, preuent it; Out vilde gelly: Where is thy luster now? Glou. All darke and comfortlesse? Where's my Sonne Edmund? Edmund, enkindle all the sparkes of Nature To quit this horrid acte
Reg. Out treacherous Villaine, Thou call'st on him, that hates thee. It was he That made the ouerture of thy Treasons to vs: Who is too good to pitty thee
Glou. O my Follies! then Edgar was abus'd, Kinde Gods, forgiue me that, and prosper him
Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell His way to Douer. Exit with Glouster.
How is't my Lord? How looke you? Corn. I haue receiu'd a hurt: Follow me Lady; Turne out that eyelesse Villaine: throw this Slaue Vpon the Dunghill: Regan, I bleed apace, Vntimely comes this hurt. Giue me your arme.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Edgar.
Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd, Then still contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worst: The lowest, and most deiected thing of Fortune, Stands still in esperance, liues not in feare: The lamentable change is from the best, The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then, Thou vnsubstantiall ayre that I embrace: The Wretch that thou hast blowne vnto the worst, Owes nothing to thy blasts. Enter Glouster, and an Oldman.
But who comes heere? My Father poorely led? World, World, O world! But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee, Life would not yeelde to age
Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant, And your Fathers Tenant, these fourescore yeares
Glou. Away, get thee away: good Friend be gone, Thy comforts can do me no good at all, Thee, they may hurt
Oldm. You cannot see your way
Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes: I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seene, Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar, The food of thy abused Fathers wrath: Might I but liue to see thee in my touch, I'ld say I had eyes againe
Oldm. How now? who's there? Edg. O Gods! Who is't can say I am at the worst? I am worse then ere I was
Old. 'Tis poore mad Tom
Edg. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can say this is the worst
Oldm. Fellow, where goest? Glou. Is it a Beggar-man? Oldm. Madman, and beggar too
Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I'th' last nights storme, I such a fellow saw; Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne Came then into my minde, and yet my minde Was then scarse Friends with him. I haue heard more since: As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th' Gods, They kill vs for their sport
Edg. How should this be? Bad is the Trade that must play Foole to sorrow, Ang'ring it selfe, and others. Blesse thee Master
Glou. Is that the naked Fellow? Oldm. I, my Lord
Glou. Get thee away: If for my sake Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine I'th' way toward Douer, do it for ancient loue, And bring some couering for this naked Soule, Which Ile intreate to leade me
Old. Alacke sir, he is mad
Glou. 'Tis the times plague, When Madmen leade the blinde: Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure: Aboue the rest, be gone
Oldm. Ile bring him the best Parrell that I haue Come on't what will.
Exit
Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow
Edg. Poore Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further
Glou. Come hither fellow
Edg. And yet I must: Blesse thy sweete eyes, they bleede
Glou. Know'st thou the way to Douer? Edg. Both style, and gate; Horseway, and foot-path: poore Tom hath bin scarr'd out of his good wits. Blesse thee good mans sonne, from the foule Fiend
Glou. Here take this purse, y whom the heau'ns plagues Haue humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched Makes thee the happier: Heauens deale so still: Let the superfluous, and Lust-dieted man, That slaues your ordinance, that will not see Because he do's not feele, feele your powre quickly: So distribution should vndoo excesse, And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer? Edg. I Master
Glou. There is a Cliffe, whose high and bending head Lookes fearfully in the confined Deepe: Bring me but to the very brimme of it, And Ile repayre the misery thou do'st beare With something rich about me: from that place, I shall no leading neede
Edg. Giue me thy arme; Poore Tom shall leade thee.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Gonerill, Bastard, and Steward.
Gon. Welcome my Lord. I meruell our mild husband Not met vs on the way. Now, where's your Master? Stew. Madam within, but neuer man so chang'd: I told him of the Army that was Landed: He smil'd at it. I told him you were comming, His answer was, the worse. Of Glosters Treachery, And of the loyall Seruice of his Sonne When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot, And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out: What most he should dislike, seemes pleasant to him; What like, offensiue
Gon. Then shall you go no further. It is the Cowish terror of his spirit That dares not vndertake: Hee'l not feele wrongs Which tye him to an answer: our wishes on the way May proue effects. Backe Edmond to my Brother, Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powres. I must change names at home, and giue the Distaffe Into my Husbands hands. This trustie Seruant Shall passe betweene vs: ere long you are like to heare (If you dare venture in your owne behalfe) A Mistresses command. Weare this; spare speech, Decline your head. This kisse, if it durst speake Would stretch thy Spirits vp into the ayre: Conceiue, and fare thee well
Bast. Yours in the rankes of death. Enter.
Gon. My most deere Gloster. Oh, the difference of man, and man, To thee a Womans seruices are due, My Foole vsurpes my body
Stew. Madam, here come's my Lord. Enter Albany.
Gon. I haue beene worth the whistle
Alb. Oh Gonerill, You are not worth the dust which the rude winde Blowes in your face
Gon. Milke-Liuer'd man, That bear'st a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs, Who hast not in thy browes an eye-discerning Thine Honor, from thy suffering
Alb. See thy selfe diuell: Proper deformitie seemes not in the Fiend So horrid as in woman
Gon. Oh vaine Foole. Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwals dead, Slaine by his Seruant, going to put out The other eye of Glouster
Alb. Glousters eyes
Mes. A Seruant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against the act: bending his Sword To his great Master, who, threat-enrag'd Flew on him, and among'st them fell'd him dead, But not without that harmefull stroke, which since Hath pluckt him after
Alb. This shewes you are aboue You Iustices, that these our neather crimes So speedily can venge. But (O poore Glouster) Lost he his other eye? Mes. Both, both, my Lord. This Leter Madam, craues a speedy answer: 'Tis from your Sister
Gon. One way I like this well. But being widdow, and my Glouster with her, May all the building in my fancie plucke Vpon my hatefull life. Another way The Newes is not so tart. Ile read, and answer
Alb. Where was his Sonne, When they did take his eyes? Mes. Come with my Lady hither
Alb. He is not heere
Mes. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe
Alb. Knowes he the wickednesse? Mes. I my good Lord: 'twas he inform'd against him And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might haue the freer course
Alb. Glouster, I liue To thanke thee for the loue thou shew'dst the King, And to reuenge thine eyes. Come hither Friend, Tell me what more thou know'st.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Gentlemen, and Souldiours.
Cor. Alacke, 'tis he: why he was met euen now As mad as the vext Sea, singing alowd. Crown'd with ranke Fenitar, and furrow weeds, With Hardokes, Hemlocke, Nettles, Cuckoo flowres, Darnell, and all the idle weedes that grow In our sustaining Corne. A Centery send forth; Search euery Acre in the high-growne field, And bring him to our eye. What can mans wisedome In the restoring his bereaued Sense; he that helpes him, Take all my outward worth
Gent. There is meanes Madam: Our foster Nurse of Nature, is repose, The which he lackes: that to prouoke in him Are many Simples operatiue, whose power Will close the eye of Anguish
Cord. All blest Secrets, All you vnpublish'd Vertues of the earth Spring with my teares; be aydant, and remediate In the Goodmans desires: seeke, seeke for him, Least his vngouern'd rage, dissolue the life That wants the meanes to leade it. Enter Messenger.
Mes. Newes Madam, The Brittish Powres are marching hitherward
Cor. 'Tis knowne before. Our preparation stands In expectation of them. O deere Father, It is thy businesse that I go about: Therfore great France My mourning, and importun'd teares hath pittied: No blowne Ambition doth our Armes incite, But loue, deere loue, and our ag'd Fathers Rite: Soone may I heare, and see him.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Regan, and Steward.
Reg. But are my Brothers Powres set forth? Stew. I Madam
Reg. Himselfe in person there? Stew. Madam with much ado: Your Sister is the better Souldier
Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lord at home? Stew. No Madam
Reg. What might import my Sisters Letter to him? Stew. I know not, Lady
Reg. Faith he is poasted hence on serious matter: It was great ignorance, Glousters eyes being out To let him liue. Where he arriues, he moues All hearts against vs: Edmund, I thinke is gone In pitty of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life: Moreouer to descry The strength o'th' Enemy
Stew. I must needs after him, Madam, with my Letter
Reg. Our troopes set forth to morrow, stay with vs: The wayes are dangerous
Stew. I may not Madam: My Lady charg'd my dutie in this busines
Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you transport her purposes by word? Belike, Some things, I know not what. Ile loue thee much Let me vnseale the Letter
Stew. Madam, I had rather- Reg. I know your Lady do's not loue her Husband, I am sure of that: and at her late being heere, She gaue strange Eliads, and most speaking lookes To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosome
Stew. I, Madam? Reg. I speake in vnderstanding: Y'are: I know't, Therefore I do aduise you take this note: My Lord is dead: Edmond, and I haue talk'd, And more conuenient is he for my hand Then for your Ladies: You may gather more: If you do finde him, pray you giue him this; And when your Mistris heares thus much from you, I pray desire her call her wisedome to her. So fare you well: If you do chance to heare of that blinde Traitor, Preferment fals on him, that cuts him off
Stew. Would I could meet Madam, I should shew What party I do follow
Reg. Fare thee well.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Gloucester, and Edgar.
Glou. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill? Edg. You do climbe vp it now. Look how we labor
Glou. Me thinkes the ground is eeuen
Edg. Horrible steepe. Hearke, do you heare the Sea? Glou. No truly
Edg. Why then your other Senses grow imperfect By your eyes anguish
Glou. So may it be indeed. Me thinkes thy voyce is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase, and matter then thou did'st
Edg. Y'are much deceiu'd: In nothing am I chang'd But in my Garments
Glou. Me thinkes y'are better spoken
Edg. Come on Sir, Heere's the place: stand still: how fearefull And dizie 'tis, to cast ones eyes so low, The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre Shew scarse so grosse as Beetles. Halfe way downe Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade: Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head. The Fishermen, that walk'd vpon the beach Appeare like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Barke, Diminish'd to her Cocke: her Cocke, a Buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge, That on th' vnnumbred idle Pebble chafes Cannot be heard so high. Ile looke no more, Least my braine turne, and the deficient sight Topple downe headlong
Glou. Set me where you stand
Edg. Giue me your hand: You are now within a foote of th' extreme Verge: For all beneath the Moone would I not leape vpright
Glou. Let go my hand: Heere Friend's another purse: in it, a Iewell Well worth a poore mans taking. Fayries, and Gods Prosper it with thee. Go thou further off, Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going
Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir
Glou. With all my heart
Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire, Is done to cure it
Glou. O you mighty Gods! This world I do renounce, and in your sights Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could beare it longer, and not fall To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes, My snuffe, and loathed part of Nature should
Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him: Now Fellow, fare thee well
Edg. Gone Sir, farewell: And yet I know not how conceit may rob The Treasury of life, when life it selfe Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought, By this had thought bin past. Aliue, or dead? Hoa, you Sir: Friend, heare you Sir, speake: Thus might he passe indeed: yet he reuiues. What are you Sir? Glou. Away, and let me dye
Edg. Had'st thou beene ought But Gozemore, Feathers, Ayre, (So many fathome downe precipitating) Thou'dst shiuer'd like an Egge: but thou do'st breath: Hast heauy 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 Myracle. Speake yet againe
Glou. But haue I falne, or no? Edg. From the dread Somnet of this Chalkie Bourne Looke vp a height, the shrill-gorg'd Larke so farre Cannot be seene, or heard: Do but looke vp
Glou. Alacke, I haue no eyes: Is wretchednesse depriu'd that benefit To end it selfe by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, When misery could beguile the Tyrants rage, And frustrate his proud will
Edg. Giue me your arme. Vp, so: How is't? Feele you your Legges? You stand
Glou. Too well, too well
Edg. This is aboue all strangenesse, Vpon the crowne o'th' Cliffe. What thing was that Which parted from you? Glou. A poore vnfortunate Beggar
Edg. As I stood heere below, me thought his eyes Were two full Moones: he had a thousand Noses, Hornes wealk'd, and waued like the enraged Sea: It was some Fiend: Therefore thou happy Father, Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who make them Honors Of mens Impossibilities, haue preserued thee
Glou. I do remember now: henceforth Ile beare Affliction, till it do cry out it selfe Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you speake of, I tooke it for a man: often 'twould say The Fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place
Edgar. Beare free and patient thoughts. Enter Lear.
But who comes heere? The safer sense will ne're accommodate His Master thus
Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the King himselfe
Edg. O thou side-piercing sight! Lear. Nature's aboue Art, in that respect. Ther's your Presse-money. That fellow handles his bow, like a Crowkeeper: draw mee a Cloathiers yard. Looke, looke, a Mouse: peace, peace, this peece of toasted Cheese will doo't. There's my Gauntlet, Ile proue it on a Gyant. Bring vp the browne Billes. O well flowne Bird: i'th' clout, i'th' clout: Hewgh. Giue the word
Edg. Sweet Mariorum
Lear. Passe
Glou. I know that voice
Lear. Ha! Gonerill with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a Dogge, and told mee I had the white hayres in my Beard, ere the blacke ones were there. To say I, and no, to euery thing that I said: I, and no too, was no good Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and the winde to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go too, they are not men o'their words; they told me, I was euery thing: 'Tis a Lye, I am not Agu-proofe
Glou. The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember: Is't not the King? Lear. I, euery inch a King. When I do stare, see how the Subiect quakes. I pardon that mans life. What was thy cause? Adultery? thou shalt not dye: dye for Adultery? No, the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly Do's letcher in my sight. Let Copulation thriue: For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his Father, Then my Daughters got 'tweene the lawfull sheets. Too't Luxury pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers. Behold yond simpring Dame, whose face betweene her Forkes presages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do's shake the head to heare of pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor the soyled Horse goes too't with a more riotous appetite: Downe from the waste they are Centaures, though Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit, beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkenes, there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption: Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce of Ciuet; good Apothecary sweeten my immagination: There's money for thee