The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  LEAR

  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 moulds, all germens spill at once

  That makes ingrateful man.

  FOOL O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o’ door. Good nuncle, in, ask thy daughters blessing. Here’s a night pities neither wise men nor fools.

  LEAR

  Rumble thy bellyful; spit, fire; spout, rain.

  Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.

  I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.

  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!

  FOOL He that has a house to put ’s head in has a good head-piece.

  ⌈Sings⌉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.

  Enter the Earl of Kent disguised

  LEAR

  No, I will be the pattern of all patience.

  I will say nothing.

  KENT Who’s there?

  FOOL Marry, here’s grace and a codpiece—that’s a wise man and a fool.

  KENT (to Lear)

  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.

  LEAR

  Let the great gods,

  That keep this dreadful pother 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 practised 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.

  KENT

  Alack, bare-headed?

  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.

  LEAR

  My wits begin to turn.

  (To Fool) 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.

  FOOL ⌈Sings⌉

  He that has and a little tiny wit,

  With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain,

  Must make content with his fortunes fit,

  Though the rain it raineth every day.

  LEAR

  True, boy. (To Kent) Come, bring us to this hovel.

  Exeunt Lear and Kent

  FOOL 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,

  Then shall the realm of Albion

  Come to great confusion.

  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 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.

  Exit

  3.3 Enter the Duke of Gloucester and Edmond

  GLOUCESTER Alack, alack, Edmond, 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.

  EDMOND Most savage and unnatural!

  GLOUCESTER 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 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’t—as no less is threatened me—the King my old master must be relieved. There is strange things toward, Edmond; pray you be careful. Exit

  EDMOND

  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. Exit

  3.4 Enter King Lear, the Earl of Kent disguised, and Lear’s Fool

  KENT

  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

  LEAR Let me alone.

  KENT

  Good my lord, enter here.

  LEAR

  Wilt break my heart?

  KENT

  I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.

  LEAR

  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

  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 endu
re.

  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.

  KENT

  Good my lord, enter here.

  LEAR

  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.

  (To Fool) In, boy; go first. ⌈Kneeling⌉ You houseless

  poverty—

  Nay, get thee in. I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.

  Exit Fool

  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 mayst shake the superflux to them

  And show the heavens more just.

  Enter Lear’s Fool, ⌈and Edgar as a Bedlam beggar in the hovel⌉

  EDGAR

  Fathom and half! Fathom and half! Poor Tom!

  FOOL Come not in here, nuncle. Here’s a spirit. Help me, help me!

  KENT Give me thy hand. Who’s there? FOOL A spirit, a spirit. He says his name’s Poor Tom.

  KENT

  What art thou that dost grumble there i’th’ straw?

  Come forth.

  ⌈Edgar comes forth⌉

  EDGAR

  Away, the foul fiend follows me.

  Thorough the sharp hawthorn blow the winds. Hm!

  Go to thy cold bed and warm thee.

  LEAR

  Didst thou give all to thy two daughters,

  And art thou come to this?

  EDGAR 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

  LEAR

  Has his daughters brought him to this pass?

  (To Edgar) Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou

  give ’em all?

  FOOL Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.

  LEAR (to Edgar)

  Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air

  Hang fated o’er men’s faults light on thy daughters!

  KENT He hath no daughters, sir.

  LEAR

  Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature

  To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.

  (To Edgar) Is it the fashion that discarded fathers

  Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?

  Judicious punishment: ’twas this flesh begot

  Those pelican daughters.

  EDGAR Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill; alow, alow, loo, loo.

  FOOL This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

  EDGAR Take heed o’th’ foul fiend; obey thy parents; keep thy words’ justice; swear not; commit not with man’s sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom’s a-cold.

  LEAR What hast thou been?

  EDGAR 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. Dauphin, my boy! Boy, cessez; let him trot by.

  Storm still

  LEAR 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 owest 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, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come, unbutton here.

  Enter the Duke of Gloucester with a torch

  FOOL 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. Look, here comes a walking fire.

  EDGAR 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. ⌈Sings⌉

  Swithin footed thrice the wold,

  A met the night mare and her nine foal,

  Bid her alight

  And her troth plight,

  And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

  KENT (to Lear)

  How fares your grace?

  LEAR What’s he?

  KENT (to Gloucester) Who’s there? What is’t you seek?

  GLOUCESTER What are you there? Your names?

  EDGAR 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 cowdung for salads, 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.

  Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!

  GLOUCESTER (to Lear)

  What, hath your grace no better company?

  EDGAR

  The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman.

  Modo he’s called, and Mahu.

  GLOUCESTER (to Lear)

  Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile

  That it doth hate what gets it.

  EDGAR Poor Tom’s a-cold.

  GLOUCESTER (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.

  LEAR

  First let me talk with this philosopher.

  (To Edgar) What is the cause of thunder?

  KENT

  Good my lord, take his offer; go into th’ house.

  LEAR

  I’ll talk a word with this same learned Theban.

  (To Edgar) What is your study?

  EDGAR

  How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.

  LEAR

  Let me ask you one word in private.

  They converse apart

  KENT (to Gloucester)

  Importune him once more to go, my lord.

  His wits begin t’unsettle.

  GLOUCESTER

  Canst thou blame him?

  Storm still

  His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent,

  He said it would be thus, poor banis
hed man!

  Thou sayst the King grows mad; I’ll tell thee, friend,

  I am almost mad myself. I had a son,

  Now outlawed from my blood; a 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!

  (To Lear) I do beseech your grace—

  LEAR

  O, cry you mercy, sir!

  (To Edgar) Noble philosopher, your company.

  EDGAR

  Tom’s a-cold.

  GLOUCESTER

  In, fellow, there in t’hovel; keep thee warm.

  LEAR

  Come, let’s in all.

  KENT

  This way, my lord.

  LEAR With him!

  I will keep still with my philosopher.

  KENT (to Gloucester)

  Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.

  GLOUCESTER Take him you on.

  KENT ⌈to Edgar⌉

  Sirrah, come on. Go along with us.

  LEAR (to Edgar)

  Come, good Athenian.

  GLOUCESTER

  No words, no words. Hush.

  EDGAR

  Child Roland to the dark tower came,

  His word was still ‘Fie, fo, and fum;

  I smell the blood of a British man.’

  Exeunt

  3.5 Enter the Duke of Cornwall and Edmond

  CORNWALL I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.

  EDMOND How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of.

  CORNWALL I now perceive it was not altogether your brother’s evil disposition made him seek his death, but a provoking merit set a-work by a reprovable badness in himself. 8

  EDMOND How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be just! This is the letter which 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!

  CORNWALL Go with me to the Duchess.

  EDMOND If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.

  CORNWALL True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension.