ur 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. Exeunt. Scene IV. The French camp. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers. Cor. Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea, singing aloud, Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flow'rs, 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. [Exit an Officer.] What can man's wisdom In the restoring his bereaved sense? He that helps him take all my outward worth. Doct. 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. Cor. All blest secrets, All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him! Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life That wants the means to lead it. Enter Messenger. Mess. News, madam. The British pow'rs are marching hitherward. Cor. '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 important tears hath pitied. No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right. Soon may I hear and see him! Exeunt. Scene V. Gloucester's Castle. Enter Regan and [Oswald the] Steward. Reg. But are my brother's pow'rs set forth? Osw. Ay, madam. Reg. Himself in person there? Osw. Madam, with much ado. Your sister is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? Osw. No, madam. Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him? Osw. I know not, lady. Reg. 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. Osw. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow. Stay with us. The ways are dangerous. Osw. I may not, madam. My lady charg'd my duty in this business. Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you Transport her purposes by word? Belike, Something- I know not what- I'll love thee much- Let me unseal the letter. Osw. Madam, I had rather- Reg. 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. Osw. I, madam? Reg. I speak in understanding. Y'are! I know't. Therefore I do advise you take this note. My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd, 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 farewell. If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. Osw. Would I could meet him, madam! I should show What party I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well. Exeunt. Scene VI. The country near Dover. Enter Gloucester, and Edgar [like a Peasant]. Glou. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill? Edg. You do climb up it now. Look how we labour. Glou. Methinks the ground is even. Edg. Horrible steep. Hark, do you hear the sea? Glou. No, truly. Edg. Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. Glou. So may it be indeed. Methinks thy voice is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase and matter than thou didst. Edg. Y'are much deceiv'd. In nothing am I chang'd But in my garments. Glou. Methinks y'are better spoken. Edg. 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 sampire- 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, Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge That on th' unnumb'red idle pebble chafes Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more, Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong. Glou. Set me where you stand. Edg. Give me your hand. You are now within a foot Of th' extreme verge. For all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright. Glou. Let go my hand. Here, friend, is another purse; in it a jewel Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies and gods Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off; Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. Edg. Now fare ye well, good sir. Glou. With all my heart. Edg. [aside]. Why I do trifle thus with his despair Is done to cure it. Glou. 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 loathed part of nature should Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! Now, fellow, fare thee well. He falls [forward and swoons]. Edg. 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? Glou. Away, and let me die. Edg. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, So many fadom down precipitating, Thou'dst shiver'd 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 is a miracle. Speak yet again. Glou. But have I fall'n, or no? Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. Look up a-height. The shrill-gorg'd lark so far Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up. Glou. Alack, I have no eyes! Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage And frustrate his proud will. Edg. Give me your arm. Up- so. How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand. Glou. Too well, too well. Edg. This is above all strangeness. Upon the crown o' th' cliff what thing was that Which parted from you? Glou. A poor unfortunate beggar. Edg. As I stood here below, methought his eyes Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea. It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours Of men's impossibility, have preserv'd thee. Glou. 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. Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts. Enter Lear, mad, [fantastically dressed with weeds]. But who comes here? The safer sense will ne'er accommodate His master thus. Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coming; I am the King himself. Edg. O thou side-piercing sight! Lear. Nature 's above art in that respect. There's your press money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper. Draw me a clothier's yard. Look, look, 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. Edg. Sweet marjoram. Lear. Pass. Glou. I know that voice. Lear. Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a dog, and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say 'ay' and 'no' to everything I said! 'Ay' and 'no' too 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. Glou. The trick of that voice I do well remember. Is't not the King? Lear. 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 presageth 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, there's darkness, there's the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption. Fie, fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination. There's money for thee. Glou. O, let me kiss that hand! Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. Glou. O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me? Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the penning of it. Glou. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. Edg. [aside] I would not take this from report. It is, And my heart breaks at it. Lear. Read. Glou. What, with the case of eyes? Lear. O, 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. Glou. I see it feelingly. Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how the 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? Glou. Ay, sir. Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog's obeyed in office. Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back. Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind For which thou whip'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furr'd 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. Edg. O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason, in madness! Lear. 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. Glou. Alack, alack the day! Lear. 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 sons-in-law, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! Enter a Gentleman [with Attendants]. Gent. O, here he is! Lay hand upon him.- Sir, Your most dear daughter- Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even The natural fool of fortune. Use me well; You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon; I am cut to th' brains. Gent. You shall have anything. Lear. 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. Gent. Good sir- Lear. I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What! I will be jovial. Come, come, I am a king; My masters, know you that? Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. Lear. Then there's life in't. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa! Exit running. [Attendants follow.] Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter Who redeems nature from the general curse Which twain have brought her to. Edg. Hail, gentle sir. Gent. Sir, speed you. What's your will? Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? Gent. Most sure and vulgar. Every one hears that Which can distinguish sound. Edg. But, by your favour, How near's the other army? Gent. Near and on speedy foot. The main descry Stands on the hourly thought. Edg. I thank you sir. That's all. Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here, Her army is mov'd on. Edg. I thank you, sir Exit [Gentleman]. Glou. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; Let not my worser spirit tempt me again To die before you please! Edg. Well pray you, father. Glou. Now, good sir, what are you? Edg. A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows, Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand; I'll lead you to some biding. Glou. Hearty thanks. The bounty and the benison of heaven To boot, and boot! Enter [Oswald the] Steward. Osw. A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, Briefly thyself remember. The sword is out That must destroy thee. Glou. Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough to't. [Edgar interposes.] Osw. Wherefore, bold peasant, Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence! Lest that th' infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'cagion. Osw. Let go, slave, or thou diest! Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor voke pass. An chud ha' bin zwagger'd 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 vore ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder. Chill be plain with you. Osw. Out, dunghill! They fight. Edg. Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come! No matter vor your foins. [Oswald falls.] Osw. 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 British party. O, untimely death! Death! He dies. Edg. I know thee well. A serviceable villain, As duteous to the vices of thy mistress As badness would desire. Glou. What, is he dead? Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you. Let's see his pockets; these letters that he speaks of May be my friends. He's dead. I am only sorry He had no other deathsman. Let us see. Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not. To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts; Their papers, is more lawful. Reads the letter. 'Let our reciprocal vows be rememb'red. You have many opportunities to cut him off. If your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror. Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my jail; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour. 'Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, 'Goneril.' O indistinguish'd 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 murtherous lechers; and in the mature time With this ungracious paper strike the sight Of the death-practis'd Duke, For him 'tis well That of thy death and business I can tell. Glou. 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 sever'd from my griefs, And woes by wrong imaginations lose The knowledge of themselves. A drum afar off. Edg. Give me your hand. Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum. Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. Exeunt. Scene VII. A tent in the French camp. Enter Cordelia, Kent, Doctor, and Gentleman. Cor. 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. Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid. All my reports go with the modest truth; Nor more nor clipp'd, but so. Cor. Be better suited. These weeds are memories of those worser hours. I prithee put them off. Kent. 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. Cor. Then be't so, my good lord. [To the Doctor] How, does the King? Doct. Madam, sleeps still. Cor. O you kind gods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature! Th' untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up Of this child-changed father! Doct. So please your Majesty That we may wake the King? He hath slept long. Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed I' th' sway of your own will. Is he array'd? Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants. Gent. Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep We put fresh garments on him. Doct. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him. I doubt not of his temperance. Cor. Very well. Music. Doct. Please you draw near. Louder the music there! Cor. O my dear father, restoration hang Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss Repair those violent harms that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made! Kent. Kind and dear princess! Cor. Had you not been their father, these white flakes Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face To be oppos'd against the warring 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. Doct. Madam, do you; 'tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your Majesty? Lear. 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. Cor. Sir, do you know me? Lear. You are a spirit, I know. When did you die? Cor. Still, still, far wide! Doct. He's scarce awake. Let him alone awhile. Lear. Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight, I am mightily abus'd. I should e'en die with pity, To see another thus. I know not what to say. I will not swear these are my hands. Let's see. I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur'd Of my condition! Cor. O, look upon me, sir, And hold your hands in benediction o'er me. No, sir, you must not kneel. Lear. Pray, do not mock me. 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. Cor. And so I am! I am! Lear. 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. Cor. No cause, no cause. Lear. Am I in France? Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. Lear. Do not abuse me. Doct. Be comforted, good madam. The great rage You see is kill'd in him; and yet it is danger To make him even o'er the time he has lost. Desire him to go in. Trouble him no more Till further settling. Cor. Will't please your Highness walk? Lear. You must bear with me. Pray you now, forget and forgive. I am old and foolish. Exeunt. Manent Kent and Gentleman. Gent. Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? Kent. Most certain, sir. Gent. Who is conductor of his people? Kent. As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. Gent. They say Edgar, his banish'd son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany. Kent. Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the powers of the kingdom approach apace. Gent. The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you well, sir. [Exit.] Kent. My point and period will be throughly wrought, Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought. Exit. ACT V. Scene I. The British camp near Dover. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Regan, Gentleman, and Soldiers. Edm. Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold, Or whether since he is advis'd by aught To change the course. He's full of alteration And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure. [Exit an Officer.] Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. Edm. Tis to be doubted, madam. Reg. 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? Edm. In honour'd love. Reg. But have you never found my brother's way To the forfended place? Edm. That thought abuses you. Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. Edm. No, by mine honour, madam. Reg. I never shall endure her. Dear my lord, Be not familiar with her. Edm. Fear me not. She and the Duke her husband! Enter, with Drum and Colours, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers. Gon. [aside] I had rather lose the battle than that sister Should loosen him and me. Alb. Our very loving sister, well bemet. Sir, this I hear: the King is come to his daughter, With others whom the rigour of our state Forc'd to cry out. Where I could not be honest, I never yet was valiant. For this business, It toucheth us as France invades our land, Not bolds the King, with others whom, I fear, Most just and heavy causes make oppose. Edm. Sir, you speak nobly. Reg. Why is this reason'd? Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy; For these domestic and particular broils Are not the question here. Alb. Let's then determine With th' ancient of war on our proceeding. Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent. Reg. Sister, you'll go with us? Gon. No. Reg. 'Tis most convenient. Pray you go with us. Gon. [aside] O, ho, I know the riddle.- I will go. [As they are going out,] enter Edgar [disguised]. Edg. If e'er your Grace had speech with man so poor, Hear me one word. Alb. I'll overtake you.- Speak. Exeunt [all but Albany and Edgar]. Edg. 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 avouched there. If you miscarry, Your business of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases. Fortune love you! Alb. Stay till I have read the letter. Edg. I was forbid it. When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, And I'll appear again. Alb. Why, fare thee well. I will o'erlook thy paper. Exit [Edgar]. Enter Edmund. Edm. The enemy 's in view; draw up your powers. Here is the guess of their true strength and forces By diligent discovery; but your haste Is now urg'd on you. Alb. We will greet the time. Exit. Edm. 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? Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd, 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. Exit. Scene II. A field between the two camps. Alarum within. Enter, with Drum and Colours, the Powers of France over the stage, Cordelia with her Father in her hand, and exeunt. Enter Edgar and Gloucester. Edg. 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. Glou. Grace go with you, sir! Exit [Edgar]. Alarum and retreat within. Enter Edgar, Edg. Away, old man! give me thy hand! away! King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en. Give me thy hand! come on! Glou. No further, sir. A man may rot even here. Edg. What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither; Ripeness is all. Come on. Glou. And that's true too. Exeunt. Scene III. The British camp, near Dover. Enter, in conquest, with Drum and Colours, Edmund; Lear and Cordelia as prisoners; Soldiers, Captain. Edm. Some officers take them away. Good guard Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them. Cor. We are not the first Who with best meaning have incurr'd the worst. For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down; Myself could else outfrown false Fortune's frown. Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? Lear. 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 wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones That ebb and flow by th' moon. Edm. Take them away. Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 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 goodyears shall devour 'em, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep! We'll see 'em starv'd first. Come. Exeunt [Lear and Cordelia, guarded]. Edm. Come hither, Captain; hark. Take thou this note [gives a paper]. Go follow them to prison. One step I have advanc'd 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. Capt. I'll do't, my lord. Edm. About it! and write happy when th' hast done. Mark- I say, instantly; and carry it so As I have set it down. Capt. I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats; If it be man's work, I'll do't. Exit. Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Soldiers. Alb. Sir, you have show'd to-day your valiant strain, And fortune led you well. You have the captives Who were the opposites of this day's strife. We do require them of you, so to use them As we shall find their merits and our safety May equally determine. Edm. Sir, I thought it fit To send the old and miserable King To some retention and appointed guard; Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, To pluck the common bosom on his side And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen, My reason all the same; and they are ready To-morrow, 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 curs'd By those that feel their sharpness. The question of Cordelia and her father Requires a fitter place. Alb. Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother. Reg. 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. Gon. Not so hot! In his own grace he doth exalt himself More than in your addition. Reg. In my rights By me invested, he compeers the best. Gon. That were the most if he should husband you. Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. Gon. Holla, holla! That eye that told you so look'd but asquint. Reg. Lady, I am not well; else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach. General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine. Witness the world that I create thee here My lord and master. Gon. Mean you to enjoy him? Alb. The let-alone lies not in your good will. Edm. Nor in thine, lord. Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes. Reg. [to Edmund] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. Alb. Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee On capital treason; and, in thine attaint, This gilded serpent [points to Goneril]. 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 banes. If you will marry, make your loves to me; My lady is bespoke. Gon. An interlude! Alb. Thou art arm'd, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. If none appear to prove upon thy person Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge [throws down a glove]! I'll prove it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaim'd thee. Reg. Sick, O, sick! Gon. [aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. Edm. There's my exchange [throws down a glove]. What in the world he is That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. Call by thy trumpet. He that dares approach, On him, on you, who not? I will maintain My truth and honour firmly. Alb. A herald, ho! Edm. A herald, ho, a herald! Alb. Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge. Reg. My sickness grows upon me. Alb. She is not well. Convey her to my tent. [Exit Regan, led.] Enter a Herald. Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound, And read out this. Capt. Sound, trumpet! A trumpet sounds. Her. (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 defence.' Edm. Sound! First trumpet. Her. Again! Second trumpet. Her. Again! Third trumpet. Trumpet answers within. Enter Edgar, armed, at the third sound, a Trumpet before him. Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o' th' trumpet. Her. What are you? Your name, your quality? and why you answer This present summons? Edg. 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. Alb. Which is that adversary? Edg. What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester? Edm. Himself. What say'st thou to him? Edg. Draw thy sword, That, if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine. Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, My oath, and my profession. I protest- Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, Thy valour 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 beneath 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. Edm. In wisdom I should ask thy name; But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, 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 those 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 for ever. Trumpets, speak! Alarums. Fight. [Edmund falls.] Alb. Save him, save him! Gon. This is mere practice, Gloucester. By th' law of arms thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite. Thou art not vanquish'd, But cozen'd and beguil'd. Alb. Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stop it. [Shows her her letter to Edmund.]- [To Edmund]. Hold, sir. [To Goneril] Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil. No tearing, lady! I perceive you know it. Gon. Say if I do- the laws are mine, not thine. Who can arraign me for't? Alb. Most monstrous! Know'st thou this paper? Gon. Ask me not what I know. Exit. Alb. Go after her. She's desperate; govern her. [Exit an Officer.] Edm. What, you have charg'd 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. Edg. Let's exchange charity. I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; If more, the more th' hast wrong'd me. My name is Edgar and thy father's son. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to scourge us. The dark and vicious place where thee he got Cost him his eyes. Edm. Th' hast spoken right; 'tis true. The wheel is come full circle; I am here. Alb. 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! Edg. Worthy prince, I know't. Alb. Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father? Edg. 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 follow'd me so near (O, our lives' sweetness! That with 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 disdain'd; and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair; Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd, Not sure, though hoping of this good success, I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart (Alack, too weak the conflict to support!) 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly. Edm. This speech of yours hath mov'd me, And shall perchance do good; but speak you on; You look as you had something more to say. Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in; For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this. Edg. This would have seem'd 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 clamour, came there a man, Who, having seen me in my worst estate, Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding Who 'twas that so endur'd, 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 receiv'd; 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 tranc'd. Alb. But who was this? Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise Followed his enemy king and did him service Improper for a slave. Enter a Gentleman with a bloody knife. Gent. Help, help! O, help! Edg. What kind of help? Alb. Speak, man. Edg. What means that bloody knife? Gent. 'Tis hot, it smokes. It came even from the heart of- O! she's dead! Alb. Who dead? Speak, man. Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady! and her sister By her is poisoned;