KENT
With the Earl, sir, here within.
LEAR
Follow me not; stay here.
Exit
⌈FIRST⌉ GENTLEMAN (to Kent)
Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
KENT None.
How chance the King comes with so small a number?
FOOL An thou hadst been set i’th’ stocks for that question, thou’dst well deserved it.
KENT Why, Fool?
FOOL We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there’s no labouring 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.
⌈Sings⌉
That sir which serves and seeks for gain
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begin to rain,
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, pardie.
KENT Where learned you this, Fool?
FOOL Not i’th’ stocks, fool.
Enter King Lear and the Duke of Gloucester
LEAR
Deny to speak with me? They are sick, they are weary,
They have travelled all the night?—mere fetches,
The images of revolt and flying off.
Fetch me a better answer.
GLOUCESTER
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
How unremovable and fixed he is
In his own course.
LEAR
Vengeance, plague, death, confusion!
‘Fiery’? What ‘quality’? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
GLOUCESTER
Well, my good lord, I have informed them so.
LEAR
‘Informed them’? Dost thou understand me, man?
GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord.
LEAR
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—
‘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.—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.
GLOUCESTER
I would have all well betwixt you.
Exit
LEAR
O me, my heart! My rising heart! But down.
FOOL 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 the Duke of Cornwall, Regan, the Duke of Gloucester, and servants
LEAR Good morrow to you both.
CORNWALL Hail to your grace.
Kent here set at liberty
REGAN I am glad to see your highness.
LEAR
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 shrine,
Sepulchring an adultress. (To Kent) O, are you free?
Some other time for that. ⌈Exit Kent⌉
Beloved 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!
REGAN
I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope
You less know how to value her desert
Than she to scant her duty.
LEAR
Say, how is that?
REGAN
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.
LEAR My curses on her.
REGAN 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.
LEAR
Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house?
⌈Kneehng⌉ ‘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.’
REGAN
Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks.
Return you to my sister.
LEAR ⌈rising⌉
Never, Regan.
She hath abated me of half my train,
Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue
Most serpent-like upon the very heart.
All the stored vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!
CORNWALL
Fie, sir, fie.
LEAR
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornful eyes. Infect her beauty,
You fen-sucked fogs drawn by the pow’rful sun
To fall and blister.
REGAN
O, the blest gods!
So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on.
LEAR
No, Regan. Thou shalt never have my curse.
Thy tender-hafted 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.
REGAN
Good sir, to th’ purpose.
LEAR
Who put my man i’th’ stocks?
Tucket within
CORNWALL
What trumpet’s that?
Enter Oswald the steward
REGAN
I know’t, my sister’s. This approves her letter
That she would soon be here. (To Oswald) Is your lady
come?
LEAR
This is a slave whose
easy-borrowed pride
Dwells in the sickly grace of her a follows.
(To Oswald) Out, varlet, from my sight!
CORNWALL What means your grace?
Enter Goneril
LEAR
Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know on’t. 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?
O Regan, will you take her by the hand?
GONERIL
Why not by th’ hand, sir? How have I offended?
All’s not offence that indiscretion finds
And dotage terms so.
LEAR
O sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold?—How came my man i’th’ stocks?
CORNWALL
I set him there, sir; but his own disorders
Deserved much less advancement.
LEAR
You? Did you?
REGAN
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If till the expiration of your month
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.
LEAR
Return to her, and fifty men dismissed?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,
To wage against the enmity o’th’ air
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.
GONERIL
At your choice, sir.
LEAR
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 embossed 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.
REGAN
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
Must be content to think you old, and so—
But she knows what she does.
LEAR
Is this well spoken?
REGAN
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.
GONERIL
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
REGAN
Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack ye,
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.
LEAR I gave you all.
REGAN And in good time you gave it.
LEAR
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?
REGAN
And speak’t again, my lord. No more with me.
LEAR
Those wicked creatures yet do look well favoured
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.
GONERIL
Hear me, my lord.
What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?
REGAN
What need one?
LEAR
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. You think I’ll weep.
No, I’ll not weep. I have full cause of weeping,Storm and tempest
But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand
flaws
Or ere I’ll weep.—O Fool, I shall go mad!
Exeunt Lear, Fool, Gentleman, and Gloucester
CORNWALL
Let us withdraw. ’Twill be a storm.
REGAN
This house is little. The old man and ’s people
Cannot be well bestowed.
GONERIL
’Tis his own blame;
Hath put himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.
REGAN
For his particular I’ll receive him gladly,
But not one follower.
GONERIL
So am I purposed.
Where is my lord of Gloucester?
CORNWALL
Followed the old man forth.
⌈Enter the Duke of Gloucester⌉
He is returned.
GLOUCESTER
The King is in high rage.
CORNWALL
Whither is he going?
GLOUCESTER
He calls to horse, but will I know not whither.
CORNWALL
’Tis best to give him way. He leads himself.
GONERIL (to Gloucester)
My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
GLOUCESTER
Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds
Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about
There’s scarce a bush.
REGAN
O sir, to wilful men
The injuries that they themselves procure
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors.
He is attended with a desper
ate train,
And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.
CORNWALL
Shut up your doors, my lord. ‘Tis a wild night.
My Regan counsels well. Come out o’th’ storm. Exeunt
3.1 Storm still. Enter the Earl of Kent disguised and ⌈the First⌉ Gentleman, severally
KENT
Who’s there, besides foul weather?
⌈FIRST⌉ GENTLEMAN
One minded like the weather,
Most unquietly.
KENT
I know you. Where’s the King?
⌈FIRST⌉ GENTLEMAN
Contending with the fretful elements;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea
Or swell the curled waters ’bove the main,
That things might change or cease.
KENT
But who is with him?
⌈FIRST⌉ GENTLEMAN
None but the Fool, who labours to outjest
His heart-struck injuries.
KENT
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. 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—
⌈FIRST⌉ GENTLEMAN
I will talk further with you.
KENT
No, do not.
For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia—
As fear not but you shall—show her this ring
And she will tell you who that fellow is
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the King.
⌈FIRST⌉ GENTLEMAN
Give me your hand. Have you no more to say?
KENT
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.
Exeunt severally
3.2 Storm still. Enter King Lear and his Fool
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 375
