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THE       CRANE        CLASSICS 


SHAKESPEAEE'S 


TRAGEDY  OF  KING  LEAR. 


WITH    INTRODUCTION    AND    NOTES 


BY 


MARGAEET  HILL  McCAETEE, 

Former  Teacher  of  English  and  American  Literature, 
Topeka  High  School. 


CRANE    &    COMPANY,    PUBLISHERS 
TOPEKA,    KANSAS 

1905 


OCT  m  jyut  I 


?7f 


a.P/'7 


^^/yj 


'!Qn8l 


Copyright  1905, 

By  Crane  &  Company, 

Topeka,  Kansas. 


II^TEODUCTIOlsr. 

This  play  was  first  published  in  quarto  form  in  1608. 
In  1623  it  was  published  in  folio  form.  The  time  of  the, 
writing  is  located  between  1603  and  1606.  In  1603  Dr. 
Harsnet  published  his  Declaration  of  Popish  Impostures. 
It  was  from  this  work  that  Shakespeare  took  the  names  of 
the  devils  of  whom  Edgar  speaks  in  Act  III.  In  1607 
entry  was  made  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  that  the  play 
was  performed  ^'before  the  kinges  maiestie  at  Whitehall 
vppon  Sainct  Stephens  night  at  Christmas  Last;"  that  is, 
Christmas,  1606.  In  October,  1605,  an  eclipse  of  the  sun 
followed  one  of  the  moon  a  month  previous.  Gloster 
speaks  of  'Hhese  late  echpses."  November  5,  1605,  was 
the  date  of  the  ^'Gunpowder  Plot,"  which  to  superstitious 
minds  the  eclipses  might  have  portended. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  exact  date  of  writing, 
certain  it  is  that  it  was  produced  at  the  time  when  its 
author  was  in  the  Titanic  era  of  his  mental  vigor.  Shake- 
speare died  at  the  age  of  fifty- two.  This  play  was  com- 
posed about  ten  or  twelve  years  before  his^death.  There 
is  a  marked  strength  of  conception  and  vehemence  of  action 
that  are  approximated  only  in  Othello  and  equalled  no- 
where else  in  his  productions.  In  the  fullness  of  his  later 
years  he  wrote  The  Tempest,  but  the  intensity  has  given 
way  to  calmness;  the  gigantic  activity  to  the  subdued 
grandeur  of  the  ideals  of  ripened  scholarship.  The  Tempest 
was  the  work  of  Shakespeare's  sunset  days.  King  Lear  is 
the  product  of  his  noontide  vigor.     To  all  lovers  of  this 

(3) 


4  INTEODUCTIOIsr 

poet  Lear  will  ever  be  the  magnificent  masterpiece,  worthy 
of  repeated  study  and  analysis. 

I.   Legendary  Basis. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  find  the  source  from  w^hich  the  poet- 
dramatist  derived  material  for  this  play.  Like  the  other 
productions  from  his  pen,  Shakespeare  chd  not  trouble 
himself  to  create  conditions.  He  recombined  conchtions 
already  made,  for  Shakespeare  was  never  a  literary  in- 
ventor. Some  old  legend,  some  chronicle  or  bit  of  history, 
be  it  never  so  familiar,  furnished  him  the  fal^ric  out  of 
which  to  fashion  things  new^  and  beautiful  and  peculiarly 
and  intrinsically  his  own. 

The  story  of  King  Lear  and  his  three  daughters  is  one  of 
the  oldest  in  English  literature.  Holinshed  had  it  in  his 
^/  Chronicle ;  Spencer  in  his  Faerie  Queen ;  Geoffrey  of 
^  Monmouth,  in  his  Historia  Britonum.  Late  in  the  six- 
teenth century  it  w^as  dramatized  as  the  Chronicle  History 
of  King  Leir.  Shakespeiire  may  have  found  his  source  of 
material  in  this  old  drama.  The  Gloster  story  had  its 
base  in  Sidney's  Arcadia. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  origin  of  the  drama.  King 
Lear  is  essentially  Shakesperian,  and  its  power  and  use- 
fulness come  not  from  legends  long  preserved,  but  from 
its  author's  pen. 

Briefly  told,  the  legend  runs  that  old  King  Leir  lived 
and  ruled  in  the  Isle  of  Briton.  He  had  three  daughters — 
Gonorilla,  Regan,  and  Cordeilla.  He  loved  them  all,  but 
especially  loved  he  Cordeilla,  the  youngest. 

When  he  had  grown  old  and  childish,  he  thought  to  be- 
stow his  kingdom  upon  the  daughter  who  loved  him  most. 
Gonerilla  declared  that  she  loved  him  more  than  her  own 


INTRODUCTION"  O 

life;  Regan,  that  she  loved  him  far  above  all  other  crea- 
tures,— more  than  tongue  could  say ;  but  Cordeilla,  that  she 
loved  him  as  her  natural  father,  as  much  as  he  deserved 
to  be  loved, — so  much  she  loved  him. 

This  angered  King  Leir.  He  married  his  two  eldest 
daughters,  the  one  to  the  Duke  of  Cornewal,  and  the  other 
to  the  Duke  of  Albania.  To  these  two  at  his  death  the 
land  should  descend,  one-half  of  it  assigned  to  them  in 
hand;   but  the  third  daughter  received  nothing. 

Cordeilla,  however,  was,  dowerless,  happily  married  to 
a  Prince  of  France,  then  called  Gallia. 

When  Leir  had  grown  very  old  the  two  sons-in-law 
seized  the  lands  from  him,  and  with  much  limitation  of 
power  allowed  him  to  retain  a  few  servants  for  his  needs. 
His  daughters  grew  exceedingly  unkind.  He  finally  fled 
to  Cordeilla,  whom  he  had  cast  off.  She  sent  him  first 
servants  and  a  sum  of  money,  that  he  might  array  himself 
in  state  and  be  royally  served. 

Furthermore,  Cordeilla's  husband  took  up  his  cause, 
and  sent  armies  to  Briton,  who  overcame  the  armies  of 
Albania  and  Cornewal,  and  Cordeilla  was  made  Queen  of  the 
Isle.  This  was  in  3155,  and  fifty-four  years  before  the 
building  of  Rome  when  "Uzia  reigned  over  Juda,  and 
Jeroboam  over  Israel."  Here  she  ruled  well  for  five  years. 
At  the  death  of  her  husband,  her  two  nephews,  sons  of  her 
sisters,  refused  to  be  ruled  by  a  woman.  So  they  raised  an 
army  against  her,  and  put  her  into  prison.  Here,  despair- 
ing of  rescue,  she  slew  herself. 

The  Gloster  thread  of  the  drama  is  from  Arcadia,  and 
it  is  the  story  of  a  blind  old  king  of  Galacia  and  his  faithful 
son  who  were  found  in  sore  distress  by  some  storm-bound 
princes.     The  father  greatly  desired  the  son  to  leave  him 


6  INTRODUCTION^ 

to  his  fate,  or  to  lead  him  to  the  diff  that  he  might  cast 
himself  down  aud  be  killed.  The  son  related  to  the  sym- 
pathetic princes  how  the  father  had  been  thrust  from  his 
throne  by  an  ungrateful  brother,  who  also  cruelly  put  out 
his  eyes. 

But  the  father  insisted  upon  telling  the  wdiole  truth: 
how^  he  himself  had  cast  out  this  law^ful  son  and  had  be- 
stowed upon  his  illegitimate  child  all  honor  and  powder. 
How  the  favored  son  had  driven  him  forth,  and  the  faithful 
child  had  found  him  and  cared  for  him.  Shakespeare 
follows  this  line  closely,  while  he  departs  considerably  from 
the  legend  of  Leir. 

With  this  material  w^e  come  to  a  literary  analysis  of 
Shakespeare's  drama. 

II.  Literary  Analysis. 

"  He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the  mighty  ;  and  he  that 
ruleth  his  ovm  spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city." — Proverbs  xvi:  32. 

King  Lear  falls  into  the  class  of  Shakespearian  drama 
known  as  legendary  tragedy.  In  the  same  group  with  it 
are  Timon  of  Athens,  Romeo  and  Jnliet,  and  Othello.  In 
each  play  the  source  of  the  plot  is  in  legend,  not  history; 
and  the  conflict  portrayed  is  overcome  by  death.  In 
Timon  of  Athens  this  conflict  centers  in  the  question  of 
property.  In  the  other  three  it  is  a  question  of  family. 
In  Romeo  and  Juliet  it  is  a  lovers'  quarrel.  In  Othello,  an 
estrangement  of  husband  and  wife.  In  Lear,  the  conflict 
is  between  parents  and  children. 

In  this  class  Lear  easily  holds  the  first  rank.  If,  as  it 
has  been  said,  ''every  page  of  Macbeth  is  marked  with 
bloody  finger-prints,"  every  page  of  King  Lear  is  marked 
by  violent  anger,  unreason,  madness.  It  follows,  then, 
that  mighty  influences  grow  from  such  portrayal  of  activ- 


INTEODUCTION  7 

ity,  that  the  lessons  taught  by  the  drama  will  be  as  power- 
ful and  wide-reaching  as  the  drama  itself  is  vigorous  and 
intense. 

The  play  develops  along  two  lines  of  thought,  embracing 
Gloster  and  his  sons  in  one  line  and  Lear  and  his  daughters 
in  the  other.  The  two,  however,  have  only  one  basis: 
the  father  destroys  his  family  by  his  own  mis-judgment, 
drives  out  his  faithful  child,  and  elevates  the  faithless  ones 
even  to  giving  up  his  property  to  them.  The  father  in 
each  case  receives  from  the  hands  he  has  favored  a  punish- 
ment for  his  wrong-doing.  But  since  those  who  bring 
down  this  punishment  upon  parental  heads  are  themselves 
guilty,  it  follows  that  they  in  turn  must  also  meet  retribu- 
tion, and  it  will  come  to  them  from  those  who  have  been 
banished. 

The  differences  in  the  two  lines  are,  that  Lear  has  only 
daughters;  Gloster,  only  sons.  One  father  is  king,  the 
other  subject.  One  is  irascible,  the  other  superstitious. 
Hence  all  phases  of  the  family,  except  the  mother,  and  all 
grades  of  society  are  here  represented.  Clearly,  it  is  an 
era  of  family  strife  as  Julius  Ccesar  represents  an  era  of 
state  strife. 

The  action  of  the  play  also  divides  into  two  lines.  The 
first  includes  the  first  three  acts;  the  second,  the  last  two. 
In  analyzing  the  play  the  two  lines  of  thought,  Gloster  and 
Lear,  nmst  be  traced  through  the  two  phases  of  action, 
after  some  such  diagram  as  this : 


Acts  I-III. 

Acts  IV-V. 

Lear 

Gloster 

8  INTEODUCTION" 

The  curtain  rises  on  Gloster,  who  hghtly  refers  to  the 
immorahty  of  his  youth,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  his  un- 
fortunate son  is  present  to  hear  his  own  shame  frivolously 
spoken  of.  It  is  not  strange  that  in  the  bitterness  of  his 
degradation  this  son  should  turn  against  his  father.  We 
see  at  once  Gloster's  crime,  and  the  instrument  of  his  pun- 
ishment. Edmund,  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  is  an 
outcast  from  society.  For  this  condition  Gloster  is  to 
blame,  and  he  nmst  pay  the  penalty.  But  no  one  can  so 
fittingly  brmg  him  to  judgment  as  the  one  against  whom  he 
has  sinned.  It  is  only  natural  that  Edmund,  who  cannot 
be  a  respected  member  of  his  father's  family,  should  turn 
against  the  family;  and  since  he  cannot  inherit  property, 
he  naturally  seeks  to  gain  it  by  contriving  and  deception. 
If  he  is  outside  the  law,  he  will  use  means  outside  of  the 
law  to  come  into  his  own.  The  weapons  to  his  hand  are 
simple.  Gloster  is  superstitious,  Edgar  is  credulous.  Ed- 
mund is  neither,  but  he  plays  the  father's  superstition 
against  the  son's  credulity,  and  in  the  end  of  the  game 
Edgar,  the  faithful  son,  is  banished  from  his  father's  house 
and  the  false-hearted  Edmund  is  installed  the  son  and  heir 
in  his  brother's  stead. 

Edmund,  once  in  power,  turns  against  the  father  who 
elevated  him  to  power,  and  is  a  party  to  the  cruelty  that 
deprives  the  old  man  of  his  eyes  and  thrusts  him  helpless 
outside  his  own  castle-gate.  Could  Gloster  have  looked 
forward  years  ago  from  the  indiscretions  of  an  immoral 
youth  to  this  sightless,  homeless  old  age,  how  different 
might  have  been  his  course!  The  inexorable  law  of  retri- 
bution waited  long  to  bring  to  him  the  measure  due  him, 
but  it  came  at  last,  and  by  the  only  fitting  means, — the 
one  whom  he  had  wronged. 


INTRODITCTION"  -  V 

The  other  line  running  through  the  first  three  acts  is 
that  of  Lear  and  his  daughters.  When  we  first  meet  Lear 
he  is  an  irascible  old  king  in  whom  absolute  power,  a  long 
era  of  ruling  and  the  weight  of  fourscore  years  have  pro- 
duced a  disposition  as  unyielding  as  it  is  unreasonable. 
The  burden  of  his  kinghood  he  chooses  now  to  lay  upon 
other  shoulders,  retaining  to  himself  the  honor  and  ap- 
pointments of  a  ruler.  Absolutism  demands  adulation. 
Lear  has  long  been  accustomed  to  flattery;  he  now  de- 
mands it  as  his  right.  It  is  his  vanity  that  prompts  him  to 
require  of  his  three  daughters  a  protestation  of  their  love 
for  him.  The  two  oldest  children,  Goneril  and  Regan,  are 
extravagant  in  their  declarations,  but  Cordelia  professes  to 
love  him  only  as  a  natural  father.  Cordelia  in  her  strict 
regard  for  truth  is  over-blunt  of  speech,  as  the  painfully 
conscientious  usually  are. 

Lear,  the  irascible,  flies  into  a  fury,  and  drives  Cordelia, 
dowerless,  from  his  presence.  His  kingdom  he  then  di- 
vides between  his  two  oldest  daughters.  In  a  brief  time 
they  turn  against  him,  strip  him  of  the  semblance  of  power 
he  had  retained,  drive  him  from  their  door  into  the  pitiless 
darkness  and  storm  of  the  night,  unattended  and  unshel- 
tered. 

So  Lear's  crime  against  the  faithful  Cordelia  finds  retri- 
bution in  being  himself  turned  forth  by  those  whom  he  had 
exalted  to  high  places. 

The  second  movement  of  the  action,  including  the  last 
two  acts,  shows  that  in  each  line  the  retribution  of  the  first 
part  constitutes  the  guilt  of  the  second.  Vengeance  conies 
home  to  Gloster  through  Edmund,  the  son  whom  he 
wronged.  But  in  bringing  this  retribution  to  his  father 
Edmund  sins  against  the  innocent  Edgar,  who  in  turn  must 


10  INTRODUCTION 

be  requited  for  that  wrong.  In  driving  Edgar  out,  Gloster 
is  punished,  but  Edmund  must  also  be  punished,  for  he 
has  done  a  wrong.  The  last  two  acts  exist  to  bring  about 
this  punishment.  By  Edgar's  hand  the  traitor  Edmund 
falls,  and  the  eternal  balance  of  justice  attains  its  equi- 
librium. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  Lear  line.  I^ear,  who  commits  a 
wrong  toward  Cordelia,  is  driven  out  by  those  whom  he 
had  trusted.  But  in  bringing  retribution  to  their  father 
the  daughters  are  themselves  faithless  to  him.  So  the  last 
two  acts  exist  for  them  to  receive  their  reward  for  the  evil 
they  have  done. 

There  remains  one  point  further  to  be  considered,  namely : 
Why  Cordelia  must  also  perish.  The  answer  is  clear. 
Cordelia,  in  avenging  her  father's  wrongs,  attacks  the 
kingdom  also.  King  Lear  of  his  own  volition  gave  up  his 
kingdom.  To  have  given  him  aid  and  protection  and  to 
have  punished  the  cruel-hearted  daughters  were  well  and 
right.  But  to  restore  him  to  his  kingdom,  or  to  invade 
with  the  army  of  France,  the  Island  of  Britain,  was  a  blow 
at  the  state.  Cordelia  went  beyond  her  lawful  bound, 
and  perished  for  the  going. 

So  much  for  the  brief  analysis  of  the  play.  The  study  of 
the  individual  characters  remains  to  be  taken  up. 

The  minor  characters  fall  into  tw^o  groups :  the  faithless 
and  the  faithful.  In  the  first  are  Edmund,  Goneril,  and 
Regan.  In  the  second,  Edgar,  Kent,  Albany,  and  Corde- 
lia. And  by  some  trick  of  affinity  these  people  run  to- 
gether in  the  action.  Edmimd  the  usurper  easily  pleases 
Goneril  and  Regan,  to  both  of  w^hom  he  pledges  himself. 
His  base  nature  is  untrue  beyond  his  assumed  need  of 
family  and  property  rights.     Goneril,  who  turns  against 


INTRODUCTION  11 

her  father,  turns  also  against  her  sister  and  her  husband, 
causing  the  death  of  the  former  and  conniving  at  the  death 
of  the  latter. 

Of  the  other  group,  Edgar  excites  little  admiration.  His 
is  a  weak  nature,  else  Edmund  could  not  so  easily  have 
controlled  him.  He  comes  at  last  into  as  good  a  fortune 
as  he  deserves. 

Albany,  whose  character  grows  upon  the  student,  is  the 
only  one  of  the  cast  who  is  not  destroyed,  or  sunk  into 
oblivion.  The  fool  ^^goes  to  bed  at  noon";  Kent  has  a 
long  journey  before  him,  and  Edgar  drops  out  of  sight. 
The  kingdom  goes  to  Albany,  who  deserves  it  and  logically 
may  enjoy  it.  The  keynote  to  his  character  is  in  his 
words, 

''Where  I  could  not  be  honest  I  never  yet  was  valiant." 

Kent  and  Cordelia  are  alike  in  steadfast  loyaltj^ — Kent 
as  subject,  Cordelia  as  daughter.  But  as  sincerity  is  their 
code,  they  fall  into  the  error  of  bluntness  of  speech  that 
cannot  accomphsh  entirely  the  ends  they  seek  to  gain.  It 
is  a  trait  of  the  extremely  conscientious  always,  and  it  ever 
has  its  unfortunate  effect.  But  aside  from  this,  the  stu- 
dent must  always  admire  the  integrity  of  Kent.  Cordelia 
is  never  deeply  admired.  Her  judgment  and  her  tact  are 
both  deficient. 

Beyond  these  two  groups  are  Oswald,  the  tool  of  Goneril, 
a  despicable  knave,  and  the  v/ise  little  fool,  who  even 
among  Shakespeare's  fools  is  pre-eminently  clever. 

But  the  central,  dominant  figure  of  the  drama  is  King 
Lear,  and  the  analysis  of  this  character  and  its  world-wide 
application  is  worth  our  while. 

King  Lear,  like  his  own  fool,  and  like  all  the  rest  of  us, 


12  INTRODUCTION" 

kings  or  fools,  was  the  product  of  his  surroundings  plus  his 
physical,  mental  and  ethical  development.  He  was  the 
sum  of  himself  multiplied  b}^  his  years  of  time  and  ex- 
ternal circumstances.  His  was  a  monster-bearing  age,  an 
era  of  deep  uncivilization,  when  the  shrewdness  of  an  un- 
folded intellect  lacked  the  softening  power  that  is  not  easily 
provoked  and  that  seeketh  not  her  own.  Lear  left  the 
world  no  better  than  he  found  it.  Behind  him  lay  the 
long  years  of  a  powerful  reign.  The  habit  of  sovereignty 
was  upon  him,  fixed  there  by  the  summers  and  winters  of 
almost  a  lifetime.  His  rule  had  been  absolute.  No  Wit- 
enagemote  had  shared  with  him  the  grave  burdens  of  state. 
No  parliamentary  nor  judicial  body  had  simplified  and 
limited  the  necessity  for  power.  Years  of  uncurbed  au- 
thority wrought  in  his  mental  building  and  helped  to  frame 
and  shape  him.  Added  to  long  and  absolute  dictation 
was  old  age,  when  aspiration  is  merged  into  acceptance  and 
hope  is  become  only  persistent  endurance.  It  is  not 
strange,  then,  that  Lear  at  fourscore  should  be  the  very 
embodiment  of  unrestraint,  unless  the  inner  man  be  larger 
in  his  strength  than  tlie  strength  that  lies  in  external  con- 
ditions. For  after  all,  it  is  the  mind  and  spirit  that  may 
control  the  real  man,  and  the  crown  that  gilds  ^'  the  strait- 
ened forehead  of  the  fool"  is  no  more  a  mark  of  graceful 
rank  than  the  cap  and  bells  may  be. 

In  physical  stature  Lear  was  majestic.  Even  in  his 
desolation,  ragged  and  storm-beaten,  with  madness  seeth- 
ing in  his  brain,  he  still  was  regal.  Something  in  his  com- 
manding presence,  his  tall,  splendid  figure,  his  grand  white 
hair  and  flowing  beard,  proclaimed  him  always  a  king. 
^'Ay,  every  inch  a  king,"  whose  look  could  command 
obedience. 


I]SrTKODUCTION  13 

So  much  for  the  outside  of  Lear.  But  what  lay  within? 
First,  he  failed  to  know  himself,  and  through  himself  to 
study  humanity,  of  which  he  was  only  a  type.  He  de- 
veloped no  power  of  analysis.  He  accepted  royalty,  he 
grew  insensibly  into  tyranny,  he  demanded  absolute  sub- 
mission without  ever  answering  to  himself  why  he  might 
claim  themi  all.  He  wanted  sovereignty,  but  he  gave  no 
thought  to  the  sources  of  sovereignty.  He  craved  ex- 
pressions of  love,  with  never  a  clear  vision  of  that  realm 
where  love  abides. 

Some  innate  instinct  drew  him  to  Albany,  the  only  real, 

decently  equipped  man  in  the  play. 

"I  thought  the  king  had  more  affected  the  Duke  of  Albany  than 
Cornwall." 

In  the  opening  words  of  the  drama  Kent  tells  us  this.  In 
an  indistinct  way  Lear  recognized  Albany's  merits,  just 
as  he  half  distrusted  his  own  proud  heart  when  he  drove 
his  little  favorite  Cordelia,  dowerless  from  his  door,  and 
gave  her  only  a  father's  curse.  But  inasmuch  as  he  failed 
through  self-analysis  to  comprehend  the  claims  of  either 
merit  or  love,  he  cast  out  his  loyal  subjects  and  put  his 
trust  in  traitors.  He  took  for  sincerity  the  flattery  of  his 
two  daughters,  she-monsters  that  they  were,  and  shut  away 
from  himself  the  honest,  unselfish  love  of  his  true-hearted 
child.  He  lived  in  a  seeming  unreal  world  and  he  took  the 
semblance  of  things  for  their  reality.  He  could  not  know 
truth  in  others  until  he  knew  it  in  himself,  and  his  proud, 
dominant  soul  never  paused  to  hunt  for  it  there.  How 
much  of  life's  dismal  failures  spring  from  never  knowing 
its  controlling  motives! 

With  these  conditions — the  unrestraint  of  a  long  and 
absolute  rule  and  the  lack  of  analytic  insight — the  ethical 


14 


IN^TRODUCTION 


qualities  of  King  Lear  are  easily  understood.  He  was  ob- 
stinate, impetuous,  and  selfish.  Servants  are  natural  dis- 
turbers. When  his  own  long  retinue  of  an  hundred  knights 
made  trouble  in  the  households  of  his  daughters,  he  ob- 
stinately resented  a  reduction  in  their  number.  He  rashly 
drove  himself  into  the  storm,  his  daughter  Regan  merely 
closing  the  gate  after  him  as  she  declared, 

"  To  wilful  men 
The  injuries  that  the}^  themselves  procure 
Must  be  their  schoolmasters." 

Added  to  his  craving  for  love  was  his  desire  for  the  pomp 
and  show  of  royalty.  He  longed  for  adulation  and  the 
semblance  of  power,  while  he  laid  the  care  and  burden  of 
it  on  other  shoulders. 

In  Lear,  who  might  have  been  ''every  inch  a  king,'' 
there  developed  the  mean  spirit  of  revenge.  Nowhere  else 
in  literature  is  there  a  parallel  to  the  bitter,  blasting 
malediction  and  threats  of  vengeance  that  Lear  calls  down 
upon  his  two  daughters,  into  whose  hands  he  had  put  the 
power  that  crushed  him. 

Lastl}^,  there  was  lacking  in  Lear  that  supreme  need,  a 
warm  human  sympathy.  There  is  no  touch  of  mother- 
love  in  all  the  drama.  It  is  not  until  homeless  old  age  and 
poverty  and  bitter  weather  come  to  the  king  that  his  heart 
melts  in  pity  for  the  poor  of  his  kingdom,  and  he  cries  out : 

"  Poor  naked  wretches  wheresoe'er  you  are 
That  bide  the  pelting  of  this  pitiless  storm, 
How  shall  your  houseless  heads  and  unfed  sides, 
Your  loop'd  and  window'd  raggedness  defend  you 
From  seasons  such  as  these?" 

Then  in  very  bitterness  of  heart  he  moans: 
"  O,  I  have  ta'en  too  little  care  of  this." 


INTRODUCTION  15 

Such,  then,  is  Lear.  What  will  be  the  effect  of  his  rule? 
What,  but  to  beget  falsehood  and  treason  in  his  subjects 
nnd  insanity  in  himself?  For  madness  is  intensified 
unrestraint.  Lear  committed  intellectual  suicide.  He 
hanged  his  mental  self  with  a  rope  of  his  own  braiding. 

With  all  the  splendid  opportunities  of  a  magnificent 
kinghood,  with  unwavering  loyalty  and  love  at  his  com- 
mand, with  an  impregnable  absolutism  of  power,  poor  old 
Lear  was  the  sum  of  himself  made  up  of  all  the  units  of 
his  years,  and  in  a  consuming  rage,  and  grief  sharper  than 
a  serpent's  tooth,  his  light  we.nt  out,  and  his  life  tarried 
not  long  in  following. 

It  was  long  and  long  ago  that  old  King  Lear  lived  in 
legend  and  found  a  place  in  finest  literature.  But  the  les- 
sons of  his  life  are  as  potent  to-day  as  they  were  in  the 
days  of  misrule  in  Briton,  and  some  of  them  may  be  set 
down  here. 

The  force  of  the  bearing  that  is  kingly  compared  to  the 
others  is  least  important,  and  yet  it  is  valuable.  The 
dignity  of  manner  that  is  the  exponent  of  real  kinghood 
has  its  measure  of  influence.  Lear  ^'had  that  in  his  face" 
that  made  men  his  subjects.  Frivolous  speech,  undue  fa- 
miliarity, careless  behavior,  mar  the  man  who  w^ould  be 
really  useful  as  much  as  stifi'  austerity  and  stilted  manners 
may  do.  He  who  would  command  respect  must  give 
outward  evidence  of  why  he  should  deserve  it. 

The  second  lesson  is  the  need  for  self-study.  It  is  some- 
times the  surprise  of  a  lifetime  to  find  how  absolutely  un- 
acquainted we  arcj^with  ourselves.  There  are  men  and 
women  who  never  get  further  than  a  mere  speaking  ac- 
quaintance with  themselves.  King  Lears  they  are  who 
would  lord  it  over  others  while  they  stand  in  absolute  ig- 


16  IISrTRODUCTION 

norance  of  their  own  souls.  Self-study  is  the  great  source 
of  power  to  the  student.  AVhen  we  know  what  motive  it 
is  that  prompts  us  to  desire  one  thing  and  to  avoid  another, 
we  first  begin  to  know  our  strength.  And  the  calm  as- 
surance born  of  knowing  makes  doing  easy. 

Self-study  gives  restraint,  and  restraint  is  wisdom.  Un- 
restraint is  madness.  ^' Every  man  that  striveth  for  the 
mastery  is  temperate  in  all  things,"  says  Saint  Paul, — is 
intelligently  self-controlled  in  soul  and  body. 

Self-study  gives  insight,  the  power  to  discriminate,  the 
power  to  analyze. 

"I  thought  the  king  had  more  affected  the  Duke  of  Albany  than 
Cornwall." 

How  mournfully  pitiful  that  he  went  no  further  than  a 
dim  discernment  of  Albany's  merits.  How^  grave  a  matter 
that  he  should  pass  over  the  gentle  kiss  and  soft  caress  of 
Cordelia  for  the  claw^s  and  fangs  of  Goneril  and  Regan. 

Self-study  bestows  the  large  blessing  of  understanding 
divine  things.  God  made  man  in  his  own  image.  It  is 
through  self-knowing  that  man  comes  nearest  to  knowing 
his  Creator. 

So  much  for  the  physical  and  mental  eciuipment :  what 
are  the  ethical  lessons  to  be  learned  from  this  analysis? 

Character  is  the  sum  of  life.  King  Lear  did  not  spring 
at  once  into  an  obstinate,  selfish,  impetuous,  show-loving, 
flattery-craving,  unsympathetic  old  age.  He  came  to  it 
moment  by  moment.  His  manner  of  gi-owing  old  is  not 
changed  to-day.  If  a  man  is  absolutely  and  irreproach- 
ably honest,  he  is  so  because  honesty  has  come  to  be  the 
fixed  habit  of  his  life,  and  each  passing  year  grounds  him 
the  more  thoroughly  in  his  integrit}^  If  a  man  is  abso- 
lutely and  irreproachably  moral,  he  makes  day  by  day  a 


INTEODUCTIOTq-  17 

winning  fight  with  immoral  forces.  He  may  not  affect 
these  virtues  and  hold  them  for  a  year  or  two,  or  put  them 
on  and  off  like  summer  and  winter  clothing.  They  are  not 
garments.  They  come  to  be  integument  and  bone  and 
fiber. 

King  Lear  did  not  live  in  the  lives  of  those  about  him. 
Their  joys  and  griefs,  their  aspirations  and  their  failures 
moved  him  not  at  all.  Real  kinghood  seeks  to  reproduce 
itself  in  its  subjects. 

''Ye  are  my  children,"  says  the  Great  Teacher,  ''if  ye 
do  whatsoever  I  command  you;"  and  He  wisely  adds, 
"  My  commandments  are  not  grievous. "  Did  he  not  mean, 
"Ye  are  Christ-like,  nay,  ye  are  a  part  of  the  Christ,  if 
my  word  that  goeth  forth  through  you  shall  not  return 
unto  me  void,  but  shall  accomplish  the  thing  whereunto 
I  sent  it"? 

One  lesson  more.  King  Lear  lacked  the  warm  heart  of 
sympathy. 

"O,  I  have  ta'en  too  little  care  of  this." 

How  bitter  is  that  cry  of  Lear's  remorse  when  his  lot  is 
become  one  with  the  unhoused,  unfed  poor  of  his  kingdom! 
This  was  the  crowning  defect  of  Lear's  character,  and  it 
is  the  crownmg  defect  of  character  always. 

"  Though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understand 
all  mysteries  and  all  knowledge,"  wrote  Saint  Paul,  "and 
though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor  and  have 
not  charity,  I  am  nothing." 

Dignity  of  bearing,  self-study,  a  steady  building-up  of 
right  principles  from  day  to  day,  unselfish  living  and  gen- 
uine heart-sympathy  for  humanity, — these  are  the  things 
that  most  exalt  a  kingdom  and  turn  the  misrule  and  mad- 
ness of  King  Lear  into  strength  and  honor. 


18  INTRODUCTION" 

The  lessons  of  this  drama  come  home  not  alone  to  the 
crowned  head,  the  chief  executive  or  the  parliamentary 
and  judicial  power  of  a  kingdom  or  commonwealth :  they 
come  to  the  kingdom  of  the  heart,  the  supreme  rule  of  the 
soul,  enforcing  home  the  truth  of  the  wise  old  proverl)  — 

"  He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  he  that  is  mighty  ;  and 
he  that  ruleth  his  own  spirit,  than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

MARGARET  HILL  McCARTER. 
ToPEKA,  Kansas,  1905. 


KINGr  LEAE 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE. 


Lear,  king  of  Britain. 

Kjng  of  France. 

Duke  of  Burgundy. 

Duke  of  Cornwall. 

Duke  of  Albany. 

Earl  of  Kent. 

Earl  of  Gloster. 

Edgar,  son  to  Gloster. 

Edmund,  bastard  son  to  Gloster. 

CuRAN,  a  courtier. 

Oswald,  steward  to  Goneril. 

Old  Man,  tenant  to  Gloster. 

Doctor. 

Fool. 

A  Captain  employed  by  Edmund. 

Gentleman  attendant  on  Cordelia. 

A  Herald. 

Servants  to  Cornwall. 

Goneril,    "j 

Regan,         ^      daughters  to  Lear. 

Cordelia,   j 

Knights  of  Lear's  train,  Captains,  Messengers,  Soldiers,  and 
Attendants. 
Scene:  Britain. 


(20) 


ACT  I. 

Scene  I.     King  Learns  Palace. 
Enter  Kent,  Gloster,  and  Edmund. 

Kent.  I  thought  the  king  had  more  affected  the  Duke  of 
Albany  than  Cornwall. 

Gloster.  It  did  always  seem  so  to  us :  but  now,  in  the  di- 
vision of  the  kingdom,  it  appears  not  which  of  the  dukes  he 
values  most ;  for  qualities  are  so  weighed,  that  curiosity  in 
neither  can  make  choice  of  cither's  moiety. 

Kent.  Is  not  this  your  son,  my  lord? 

Gloster.  His  breeding,  sir,  hath  been  at  my  charge;  I 
have  so  often  blushed  to  acknowledge  him,  that  now  I  am 
brazed  to  't.     Do  you  smell  a  fault?  ^^ 

Kent.  I  cannot  wish  the  fault  undone,  the  issue  of  it  being 
so  proper. 

Gloster.  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  into  the  world  before  he 
was  sent  for,  yet  was  his  mother  fair,  and  the  whoreson  must 
be  acknowledged.— Do  you  know  this  noble  gentleman,  Ed- 
mund? 

Edmund.  No,  my  lord. 

Gloster.  My  lord  of  Kent.  Remember  him  hereafter  as 
my  honourable  friend.  ^^ 

Edmund.  My  services  to  your  lordship. 

Kent.  I  must  love  you,  and  sue  to  know  you  bcttei-. 

Edmund.  Sir,  I  shall  study  deserving. 

Gloster.  He  hath  been  out  nine  years,  and  away  he  shall 
again.— The  king  is  coming.  [Sennet  within. 

(  21  ) 


22  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Enter  one  hearing  a  coronet,  King  Lear,  Cornwall,  Al- 
bany, GoNERiL,  Regan,  Cordelia,  and  Attendants. 

Lear.  Attend  the  lords  of  France  and  Burgundy,  Gloster. 

Gloster.  I  shall,  my  liege.     [Exeunt  Gloster  and  Edmund. 

Lear.  Meantime  we  shall  express  our  darker  purpose. — 
Give  me  the  map  there. — Know  that  we  have  divided        ^^ 
In  three  our  kingdom;   and  't  is  our  fast  intent 
To  shake  all  cares  and  business  from  our  age, 
Conferring  them  on  younger  strengths,  while  we 
Unburthen'd  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  princes,  France  and  Bur- 
gundy, 
Great  rivals  in  our  youngest  daughter's  love,  ^" 

Long  in  our  court  have  made  their  amorous  sojourn, 
And  here  are  to  be  answer'd. — Tell  me,  my  daughters. 
Since  now  we  will  divest  us  both  of  rule, 
Interest  of  territory,  cares  of  state, 
^^Tiich  of  you  shall  we  say  doth  love  us  most? 
That  we  our  largest  bounty  may  extend 
AVhere  nature  doth  with  merit  challenge. — Goneril, 
Our  eldest-born,  speak  first. 

Goneril.  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,  honour; 
As  much  as  child  e'er  lov'd,  or  father  found ; 
A  love  that  makes  breath  poor,  and  speech  imable ; 
Beyond  all  manner  of  so  much  I  love  you. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KliTG    LEAR  23 

Cordelia.  [Aside.l  What   shall   Cordelia   speak?    Love, 
and  be  silent. 

Lear.  Of  all  these  bounds,  even  from  this  line  to  this, 
With  shadowy  forests  and  with  champaigns  rich'd,  ®^ 

With  plenteous  rivers  and  wide-skirted  meads, 
We  make  thee  lady.     To  thine  and  Albany's  issue 
Be  this  perpetual. — WTiat  says  our  second  daughter. 
Our  dearest  Regan,  wife  of  Cornwall? 

Regan.  I  am  made  of  that  self  metal  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  professes,  ^"* 

And  find  I  am  alone  felicitate 
In  your  dear  highness'  love. 

Cordelia.  [Aside]  Then  poor  CordeHa! 

And  yet  not  so,  since  I  am  sure  my  love's 
More  ponderous  than  my  tongue. 

Lear.  To  thee  and  thine  hereditary  ever 
Remain  this  ample  third  of  our  fair  kingdom, 
No  less  in  space,  validity,  and  pleasure. 
Than  that  conferr'd  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  interess'd,  what  can  you  say  to  draw 
A  third  more  opulent  than  your  sisters?    Speak. 

Cordelia.  Nothing,  my  lord.  ..^ 

Lear.  Nothing? 

Cordelia.  Nothing. 

Lear.  Nothing  will  come  of  nothing;    speak  again. 

Cordelia.  Unhappy  that  I  am,  I  cannot  heave 


24  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

My  heart  into  my  mouth.     I  love  your  majesty 
According  to  my  bond ;  no  more  nor  less.  ®^ 

Lear.  How,  how,  Cordelia!   mend  your  speech  a  little, 
Lest  it  may  mar  your  fortunes. 

Cordelia.  Good  my  lord, 

You  have  begot  me,  bred  me,  lov'd  me;   I 
Return  those  duties  back  as  are  right  fit. 
Obey  you,  love  you,  and  most  honour  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  marr}^  like  my  sisters, 
To  love  my  father  all. 

Lear.  But  goes  thy  heart  with  this? 

Cordelia.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Lear.  So  young,  and  so  untender? 

Cordelia.  So  young,  my  lord,  and  true. 

Lear.  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  parental  care. 
Propinquity  and  property  of  blood, 
And  as  a  stranger  to  my  heart  and  me 
Hold  thee  from  this  for  ever.     The  barbarous  Scythian, 
Or  he  that  makes  his  generation  messes 
To  gorge  his  appetite,  shall  to  my  bosom 
Be  as  well  neighbour'd,  pitied,  and  reliev'd, 
As  thou  my  sometime  daughter. 

Kent.  Good  my  liege, —        ^-" 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    I-EAR  25 

Lear.  Peace,  Kent! 
Come  not  between  the  dragon  and  his  wrath. 
I  lov'd  her  most,  and  thought  to  set  my  rest 
On  her  kind  nursery. — 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. — 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,  ^^^ 

Pre-eminence,  and  all  the  large  effects 
That  troop  with  majesty.     Ourself,  by  monthly  course. 
With  reservation  of  an  hundred  knights. 
By  you  to  be  sustain'd,  shall  our  abode 
Make  with  you  by  due  turn.     Only  we  shall  retain- 
The  name  and  all  the  addition  to  a  king ; 
The  sway,  revenue,  execution  of  the  rest, 
Beloved  sons,  be  yours :   which  to  confirm, 
This  coronet  part  between  you. 

Kent  Royal  Lear,  '**• 

Wliom  I  have  ever  honour'd  as  my  king, 
Lov'd  as  my  father,  as  my  master  follow'd, 
As  my  great  patron  thought  on  in  my  prayers, — 

Lear,  The  bow  is  bent  and  drawn ;   make  from  the  shaft. 

Kent.  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 
\ATien  power   to   flattery  bows?    To  plainness  honour  's 

bound, 
Wlien  majesty  falls  to  folly.     Reserve  thy  state, 
And  in  thy  best  consideration  check 


26 


THE    CRAN"E    CLASSICS 


This  hideous  rashness.     Answer  my  hfe  my  judgment, 
Thy  youngest  daughter  does  not  love  thee  least ; 
Nor  are  those  empty-hearted  whose  low  sound 
Reverbs  no  hollowness. 

Lear.  Kent,  on  thy  life,  no  more! 

Kent.  My  life  I  never  held  but  as  a  pawn 
To  wage  against  thy  enemies,  nor  fear  to  lose  it, 
Thy  safety  being  the  motive.  ^^^ 

Lear.  Out  of  my  sight! 

Kent.  See  better,  Lear,  and  let  me  still  remain 
The  true  blank  of  thine  eye. 

Lear.  Now,  by  Apollo, — 

Kent.  Now,  by  Apollo,  king, 

Thou  swear 'st  thy  gods  in  vain. 

Lear.  .  0,  vassal!  miscreant! 

[Laying  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

'^        "  77    r    Dear  sir,  forbear. 
Cornwall.   )  ' 

Kent.  Kill  thy  physician,  and  the  fee  bestow 
Upon  the  foul  disease.     Revoke  thy  gift;  "*^ 

Or,  whilst  I  can  vent  clamour  from  my  throat, 
I'll  tell  thee  thou  dost  evil. 

Lear.  Hear  me,  recreant! 

On  thine  allegiance,  hear  me! 
That  thou  hast  sought  to  make  us  break  our  vow. 
Which  we  durst  never  yet,  and  with  strain'd  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  diseases  of  the  world. 
And  on  the  sixth  to  turn  thv  hated  back 


TRAGEDY    OF    KINO    LEAR  27 

Upon  our  kingdom ;  if  on  the  tenth  day  following 
Thy  banish'd  trunk  be  found  in  our  dominions, 
The  moment  is  thy  death.     Away!     By  Jupiter, 
This  shall  not  be  revok'd. 

Kent.  Fare  thee  well,  king;   sith  thus  thou  wilt  appear, 
Freedom  lives  hence,  and  banishment  is  here. — 
The  gods  to  their  dear  shelter  take  thee,  maid, 
That  justly  think'st  and  hast  most  rightly  said! —  ^®° 

And  your  large  speeches  may  your  deeds  approve. 
That  good  effects  may  spring  from  words  of  love. — 
Thus  Kent,  0  princes,  bids  you  all  adieu; 
He  '11  shape  his  old  course  in  a  country  new.  [Exit. 

Flourish.     Re-enter  Gloster,  with  France,  Burgundy,  and 
Attendants. 

Gloster.  Here  's  France  and  Burgundy,  my  noble  lord. 

Lear.  My  lord  of  Burgundy, 
We  first  address  toward  you,  who  with  this  king 
Hath  rivaird  for  our  daughter ;  what,  in  the  least. 
Will  you  require  in  present  dower  with  her. 
Or  cease  your  quest  of  love?  ^^" 

Burgundy.  Most  royal  majesty, 

I  crave  no  more  than  hath  your  highness  offer'd. 
Nor  will  you  tender  less. 

Lear.  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  piec'd. 
And  nothing  more,  maj^  fitly  like  your  grace. 
She  's  there,  and  she  is  yours.  ^^^ 

Burgundy.  I  know  no  answer. 


28 


THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 


Lear.  Will  you,  with  those  infirmities  she  owes, 
Unfriended,  new-adopted  to  our  hate. 
Dower' d  with  our  curse  and  stranger' d  with  our  oath, 
Take  her,  or  leave  her? 

Burgundy.  Pardon  me,  royal  sir; 

Election  makes  not  up  on  such  conditions. 

Lear.  Then  leave  her,  sir;   for,  by  the  power  that  made 
me, 
I  tell  you  all  her  wealth. — [To  France']  For  you,  great  king, 
I  would  not  from  your  love  make  such  a  stray,  ^^^ 

To  match  you  where  I  hate ;   therefore  beseech  you 
To  avert  your  liking  a  more  worthier  way 
Than  on  a  wretch  whom  nature  is  asham'd 
Almost  to  acknowledge  hers. 

France.  This  is  most  strange. 

That  she,  who  even  but  now  was  your  best  object, 
The  argument  of  your  praise,  balm  of  your  age. 
The  best,  the  dearest,  should  in  this  trice  of  time 
Commit  a  thing  so  monstrous,  to  dismantle  ^^*^ 

So  many  folds  of  favour.     Sure,  her  offence 
Must  be  of  such  unnatural  degree 
That  monsters  it,  or  your  fore-vouch'd  affection 
Fallen  into  taint ;   which  to  believe  of  her. 
Must  be  a  faith  that  reason  without  miracle 
Should  never  plant  in  me. 

Cordelia.  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  '11  do't  before  I  speak, — that  you  make  known  ^^ 

It  is  no  vicious  blot,  nor  other  foulness. 
No  unchaste  action,  or  dishonour'd  step. 
That  hath  depriv'd  me  of  your  grace  and  favour; 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  29 

But  even  for  want  of  that  for  which  I  am  richer, 
A  still-soUciting  eye,  and  such  a  tongue 
That  I  am  glad  I  have  not,  though  not  to  have  it 
Hath  lost  me  in  your  liking. 

Lear.  Better  thou 

Hadst  not  been  born  than  not  to  have  pleas'd  me  better. 

France.  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  the  entire  point.     Will  you  have  her? 
She  is  herself  a  dowry. 

Burgundy.  Royal  Lear, 

Give  but  that  portion  which  yourself  propos'd, 
And  here  I  take  Cordelia  by  the  hand, 
Duchess  of  Burgundy.  ^^^ 

Lear.  Nothing.     I  have  sworn;   I  am  firm. 

Burgundy.  I  am  sorry  then  you  have  lost  a  father 
That  you  must  lose  a  husband. 

Cordelia.  Peace  be  with  Burgundy! 

Since  that  respects  of  fortune  are  his  love, 
I  shall  not  be  his  wife. 

France.  Fairest  Cordelia,  that  art  most  rich  being  poor, 
Most  choice  forsaken,  and  most  lov'd  despis'd. 
Thee  and  thy  virtues  here  I  seize  upon ; 
Be  it  lawful  I  take  up  what's  cast  away.  ^^" 

Gods,  gods!  't  is  strange  that  from  their  cold'st  neglect 
My  love  should  kindle  to  inflam'd  respect. — 
Thy  dowerless  daughter,  king,  thrown  to  my  chance. 
Is  queen  of  us,  of  ours,  and  our  fair  France. 
Not  all  the  dukes  of  waterish  Burgundy 


30  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Can  buy  this  unpriz'd  precious  maid  of  me. — 
Bid  them  farewell,  Cordelia,  though  unkind; 
Thou  losest  here,  a  better  where  to  find. 

Lear.  Thou  hast  her,  France ;   let  her  be  thine,  for  we 
Have  no  such  daughter,  nor  shall  ever  see  ^^^ 

That  face  of  hers  again. — Therefore  be  gone 
Without  our  grace,  our  love,  our  benison. — 
Come,  noble  Burgundy. 

[Flourish.    Exeunt  all  hut  France,  Goneril,  Regan, 
and  Cordelia. 

France.  Bid  farewell  to  your  sisters. 

Cordelia.  Ye  jewels  of  our  father,  with  wash'd  eyes 
Cordelia  leaves  you.     I  know  you  what  you  are. 
And,  like  a  sister,  am  most  loath  to  call 
Your  faults  as  they  are  nam'd.    Love  well  our  father. 
To  your  professed  bosoms  I  commit  him ; 
But  yet,  alas!   stood  I  wdthin  his  grace,  ^*" 

I  would  prefer  him  to  a  better  place.         ^ 
So  farewell  to  you  both. 

Regan.  Prescribe  not  us  our  duty. 

Goneril.  Let  your  study 

Be  to  content  your  lord,  who  hath  receiv'd  you 
At  fortune's  alms.     You  have  obedience  scanted, 
And  well  are  worth  the  want  that  you  have  wanted. 

Cordelia.  Time  shall  unfold  what  plighted  cunning  hides ; 
Who  cover  faults,  at  last  shame  them  derides. 
Well  may  you  prosper!  ^®® 

France.  Come,  my  fair  Cordelia. 

[Exeunt  France  and  Cordelia. 

Goneril.  Sister,  it  is  not  little  I  have  to  say  of  what  most 
nearly  appertains  to  us  both.  I  think  our  father  will  hence 
to-night. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  31 

Regan.  That's  most  certain,  and  with  you;  next  month 
with  us. 

Goneril.  You  see  how  full  of  changes  his  age  is;  the  ob- 
servation we  have  made  of  it  hath  not  been  little.  He  al- 
ways loved  our  sister  most;  and  with  what  poor  judgment 
he  hath  now  cast  her  off  appears  too  grossly.  ^^^ 

Regan.  'T  is  the  infirmity  of  his  age ;  yet  he  hath  ever  but 
slenderly  known  himself. 

Goneril.  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-ingraffed  condition,  but  there- 
withal the  unruly  waywardness  that  infirm  and  choleric 
years  bring  with  them. 

Regan.  Such  unconstant  starts  are  we  like  to  have  from 
him  as  this  of  Kent's  banishment.  ^^^ 

Goneril.  There  is  further  compliment  of  leave-taking  be- 
tween France  and  him.  Pray  you,  let  us  hit  together;  if 
our  father  carry  authority  with  such  disposition  as  he  bears, 
this  last  surrender  of  his  but  will  offend  us. 

Regan.  We  shall  further  think  of  it. 

Goneril.  We  must  do  something,  and  i'  th'  heat.    [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.     The  Earl  of  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Edmund,  tuith  a  letter. 
Edmund.  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. 


32 


THE    CKANE    CLASSICS 


As  honest  madam's  issue?    Why  brand  they  us 

With  base?  with  baseness?  bastardy?  base,  base?,  ^° 

Legitimate  Edgar,  I  must  have  your  land. 

Our  father's  love  is  to  the  bastard  Edmund 

As  to  the  legitimate;    fine  word, — legitimate! 

W^ell,  my  legitimate,  if  this  letter  speed 

And  my  invention  thrive,  Edmund  the  base 

Shall  top  the  legitimate.     I  grow;    I  prosper: — 

Now,  gods,  stand  up  for  bastards! 

Enter  Gloster. 

Gloster.  Kent  banish 'd  thus!  and  France  in  choler  parted! 
And  the  king  gone  to-night!   subscrib'd  his  power! 
Confin'd  to  exhibition!    All  this  done  ^^ 

Upon  the  gad! — Edmund,  how  now!   what  news? 

Edmund.  So  please  your  lordship,  none. 

[Putting  up  the  letter. 

Gloster.  Why  so  earnestly  seek  you  to  put  up  that  letter? 

Edmund.  I  know  no  news,  my  lord. 

Gloster.  What  paper  were  you  reading? 

Edmund.  Nothing,  my  lord. 

Gloster.  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.  ^® 

Edmund.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  pardon  me:  it  is  a  letter 
from  my  brother,  that  I  have  not  all  o'er-read ;  and  for  so 
much  as  I  have  perused,  I  find  it  not  fit  for  your  o'erlooking. 

Gloster.  Give  me  the  letter,  sir. 

Edmund.  I  shall  offend,  either  to  detain  or  give  it.  The 
contents,  as  in  part  I  imderstand  them,  are  to  blame. 

Gloster.  Let's  see,  let's  see. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KITTG    LEAR  33 

Edmund.  I  hope,  for  my  brother's  justification,  he  wrote 
this  but  as  an  essay  or  taste  of  my  virtue.  ^^ 

Gloster.  [Reads]  'This  policy  and  reverence  of  age  makes 
the  ivorld  hitter  to  the  best  of  our  times;  keeps  our  fortunes 
from  us  till  our  oldness  cannot  relish  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  woidd  sleep  till 
I  wake  him,  you  should  enjoy  half  his  revenue  for  ever,  and 
live  the  beloved  of  your  brother,  Edgar.' 

Hum! — Conspiracy! — 'Sleep  till  I  wake  him,  you  should  en- 
joy half  his  revenue,' — My  son  Edgar!  Had  he  a  hand  to 
write  this?  a  heart  and  brain  to  breed  it  in? — When  came 
this  to  you?   who  brought  it?  ^^ 

Edmund.  It  was  not  brought  me,  my  lord;  there's  the 
cunning  of  it :  I  found  it  thrown  in  at  the  casement  of  my 
closet. 

Gloster.  You  know  the  character  to  be  your  brother's? 

Edmund.  If  the  matter  were  good,  my  lord,  I  durst  swear 
it  were  his;  but,  in  respect  of  that,  I  w^ould  fain  think  it 
were  not. 

Gloster.  It  is  his. 

Edmund.  It  is  his  hand,  my  lord;  but  I  hope  his  heart  is 
not  in  the  contents.  ^^ 

Gloster.  Hath  he  never  before  sounded  you  in  this  busi- 
ness? 

Edmund.  Never,  my  lord ;  but  I  have  heard  him  oft  main 
tain  it  to  be  fit,  that,  sons  at  perfect  age,  and  fathers  de- 
clined, the  father  should  be  as  ward  to  the  son,  and  the 
son  manage  his  revenue. 

Gloster.  0  villain,  villain!  His  very  opinion  in  the  let- 
ter!   Abhorred  villain!    Unnatural,  detested,  brutish  vil- 


34  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

lain!  worse  than  brutish!— Go,  sirrah,  seek  him;  I'll  ap- 
prehend him.     Abominable  villain!     WTiere  is  he?  ^^ 

Edmund.  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  you  violently  pro- 
ceed against  him,  mistaking  his  purpose,  it  would  make  a 
great  gap  in  your  own  honour  and  shake  in  pieces  the  heart 
of  his  obedience.  I  dare  pawn  down  mj^  life  for  him  that 
he  hath  writ  this  to  feel  my  affection  to  your  honour,  and 
to  no  other  pretence  of  danger.  ^^ 

Gloster.  Think  you  so? 

Ednmnd.  If  your  honour  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. 

Gloster.  He  cannot  be  such  a  monster — 

Edmund.  Nor  is  not,  sure. 

Gloster.  To  his  father,  that  so  tenderly  and  entirely  loves 
him.  Heaven  and  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  res- 
olution. ^^ 

Edmund.  I  will  seek  him,  sir,  presently,  convey  the  busi- 
ness as  I  shall  find  means,  and  acquaint  you  with  all. 

Gloster.  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  se- 
quent effects:  love  cools,  friendship  falls  off,  brothers  di- 
vide ;  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  :l|there 's  son 


I 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIN^G    LEAR  35 

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  dis- 
orders follow  us  disquietly  to  our  graves.  Find  out  this 
villain,  Edmund;  it  shall  lose  thee  nothing;  do  it  care- 
fully. And  the  noble  and  true-hearted  Kent  banished! 
his  offence,  honesty !     'T  is.  strange.  [Exit. 

Edmund.  This  is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  world, 
that,  when  we  are  sick  in  fortune — often  the  surfeit  of  our 
own  behaviour — we  make  guilty  of  our  disasters  the  sun, 
the  moon,  and  the  stars :  as  if  we  were  villains  on  necessity ; 
fools  by  heavenly  compulsion ;  knaves,  thieves,  and  treach- 
ers,  by  spherical  predominance ;  drunkards,  liars,  and  adul- 
terers, by  an  enforced  obedience  of  planetary  influence ;  and 
all  that  we  are  evil  in,  by  a  divine  thrusting  on.     Edgar — 

Eiiter  Edgar. 

and  pat  he  comes  like  the  catastrophe  of  the  old  comedy. 
My  cue  is  villanous  melancholy,  with  a  sigh  like  Tom  o' 
Bedlam.  0,  these  eclipses  do  portend  these  divisions!  fa, 
sol,  la,  mi.  ^^^ 

Edgar.  How  now,  brother  Edmund!  what  serious  con- 
templation are  you  in  ? 

Edmund.  I  am  thinking,  brother,  of  a  prediction  I  read 
this  other  day,  what  should  follow  these  eclipses. 

Edgar.  Do  you  busy  yourself  with  that? 

Edmund.  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 ;  di- 
visions in  state,  menances  and  maledictions  against  king 
and  nobles;    needless  diffidences,  banishment  of  friends. 


36  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

dissipation  of  cohorts,  nuptial  breaches,  and  I  know  not 
what. 

Edgar.  How  long  have  you  been  a  sectary  astronomical? 

Edmund.  Come,  come;   when  saw  you  my  father  last? 

Edgar.  The  night  gone  by. 

Edmund.  Spake  you  with  him? 

Edgar.  Ay,  two  hours  together. 

Edmund.  Parted  you  in  good  terms?  Found  you  no 
displeasure  in  him  by  w^ord  nor  countenance  ? 

Edgar.  None  at  all.  "' 

Edmund.  Bethink  yourself  wherein  you  may  have  of- 
fended him;  and  at  my  entreaty  forbear  his  presence  till 
some  little  time  hath  qualified  the  heat  of  his  displeasure, 
which  at  this  instant  so  rageth  in  him  that  with  the  mis- 
chief of  your  person  it  would  scarcely  allay. 

Edgar.  Some  villain  hath  done  me  wrong. 

Edmund.  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  ye,  go ;  there 's  my 
key :  if  you  do  stir  abroad,  go  armed.  ^^^ 

Edgar.  Armed,  brother! 

Edmund.  Brother,  I  advise  you  to  the  best ;  go  armed : 
T  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. 

Edgar.  Shall  I  hear  from  you  anon  ? 

Edmund.  I  do  serve  you  in  this  business. — 

[Exit  Edgar. 
A  credulous  father,  and  a  brother  noble,  "^ 

Whose  nature  is  so  far  from  doing  harms 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAK  37 

That  he  suspects  none;   on  whose  foohsh  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.  [Exit. 

Scene  III.     The  Duke  of  Albany's  Palace. 
Enter  Goneeil  and  Os^vald,  her  steward. 

Goneril.  Did  my  father  strike  my  gentleman  for  chiding 
of  his  fool  ? 

Osivald.  Ay,  madam. 

Goneril.  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  '11  answer. 

Oswald.  He's  coming,  madam;    I  hear  him. 

[Horns  within. 

Goneril.  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  over-rul'd.     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  us'd  ^^ 

With  checks  as  flatteries,  when  they  are  seen  abus'd. 
Remember  what  I  have  said. 

Oswald.  Well,  madam. 

Goneril.  And  let  his  knights  have  colder  looks  among  you. 


38  TPIE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

What  grows  of  it,  no  matter;  advise  your  fellows  so. 

I  would  breed  from  hence  occasions,  and  I  shall, 

That  I  may  speak.     I  '11  write  straight  to  my  sister, 

To  hold  my  very  course.     Prepare  for  dinner.         [Exeunt. 

Scene  IV.     A  Hall  in  the  Sayne. 
Enter  Kent,  disguised. 

Kent.  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  raz'd  my  likeness.     Now,  banish'd  Kent, 
If  thou  canst  serve  where  thou  dost  stand  condemn'd. 
So  may  it  come,  thy  master,  whom  thou  lov'st. 
Shall  find  thee  full  of  labours. 

Horns  urithin.    Enter  Lear,  Knights,  cmd  Attendants. 

Lear.  Let  me  not  stay  a  jot  for  dinner ;  go  get  it  ready. — 
[Exit  an  Attendayit.]     How  now!   what  art  thou? 

Kent.  A  man,  sir.  •  ^^ 

Lear.  What  dost  thou  profess?  what  wouldst  thou  with 
us? 

Kent.  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. 

Lear.  What  art  thou? 

Kent.  A  very  honest-hearted  fellow,  and  as  poor  as  the 
king. 

Lear.  If  thou  be'st  as  poor  for  a  subject  as  he  is  for  a 
king,  thou  art  poor  enough.     ^Vliat  wouldst  thou? 

Kent.  Service. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIWG    LEAR  39 

Lear.  Who  wouldst  thou  serve? 

Kent.  You. 

Lear.  Dost  thou  know  me,  fellow? 

Kent.  No,  sir;  but  you  have  that  in  your  countenance 
which  I  would  fain  call  master. 

Lear,  What  's  that? 

Kent.  Authority.  ^" 

Lear.  What  services  canst  thou  do? 

Kent.  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. 

Lear.  How  old  art  thou? 

Kent.  Not  so  young,  sir,  to  love  a  woman  for  singing,  nor 
so  old  to  dote  on  her  for  any  thing;  I  have  years  on  my 
back  forty-eight.  ^^ 

Lear.  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. —  [Exit  an  Attendant. 

Enter  Oswald. 

You,  you,  sirrah,  where 's  my  daughter? 

Oswald.  So  please  you, —  [Exit. 

Lear.  Wliat  says  the  fellow  there?  Call  the  clotpoll 
back. — [Exit  a  Knight.]  Where's  my  fool,  ho?  I  think 
the  world 's  asleep. — [Re-enter  Knight. ]  How  now !  where's 
that  mongrel  ? 

Knight.  He  says,  my  lord,  your  daughter  is  not  well. 

Lear.  Why  came  not  the  slave  back  to  me  when  I  called 
him?  ^2 


40  THE    CEAT^E    CT.ASSTCS 

Knight.  Sir,  he  answered  me  in  the  roundest  manner,  he 
would  not. 

Lear.  He  would  not! 

Knight.  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  well  in  the  general  de- 
pendents as  in  the  duke  himself  also  and  your  daughter. 

Lear.  Ha !  sayest  thou  so  ?  ®^ 

Knight.  I  beseech  you,  pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  I  be  mis- 
taken ;  for  my  duty  cannot  be  silent  when  I  think  your  high- 
ness wronged. 

Lear.  Thou  but  rememberest  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 
pretence  and  purpose  of  unkindness.  I  will  look  further 
into't.  But  where 's  my  fool?  I  have  not  seen  him  this 
two  days.  '^^ 

Knight.  Since  my  young  lady's  going  into  France,  sir,  the 
fool  hath  much  pined  away. 

Lear.  No  more  of  that;  I  have  noted  it  well. — Go  you, 
and  tell  my  daughter  I  would  speak  with  her. — [Exit  an  At- 
tendant.]   Go  you,  call  hither  my  fool. — 

[Exit  an  Attendant. 
Re-enter  Oswald. 
0,  you  sir,  you,  come  you  hither,  sir.     ^Yho  am  I,  sir? 

Oswald.  My  lady's  father. 

Lear.  'My  lady's  father'?  my  lord's  knave.  You  whore- 
son dog!   you  slave!   you  cur! 

Oswald.  I  am  none  of  these,  my  lord;  I  beseech  your 
pardon.  ^^ 

Lear.  Do  you  bandy  looks  with  me,  you  rascal? 

[Striking  him. 


TEAGEDY  'OF    KING    LEAR  41 

Oswald.  I'll  not  be  strucken,  my  lord. 

Kent.  Nor  tripped  neither,  you  base  foot-ball  player. 

[Tripping  up  his  heels. 

Lear.  I  thank  thee,  fellow ;  thou  servest  me,  and  I  '11  love 
thee. 

Kent.  Come,  sir,  arise,  away!  I'll  teach  you  differences; 
away,  away !  If  you  will  measure  your  lubber's  length  again, 
tarry:   but  away!   goto;   have  you  wisdom?   so. 

[Pushes  Oswald  out. 

Lear.  Now,  my  friendly  knave,  I  thank  thee.  There's 
earnest  of  thy  service.  ^^ 

Enter   Fool. 

Fool.  Let  me  hire  him  too. — Here's  my  coxcomb. 

Lear.  How  now,  my  pretty  knave!  how  dost  thou? 

Fool.  Sirrah,  you  were  best  take  my  coxcomb. 

Kent.  Why,  fool? 

Fool.  Why?  for  taking  one's  part  that's  out  of  favour. 
Nay,  an  thou  canst  not  smile  as  the  wind  sits,  thou  'It  catch 
cold  shortly.  There,  take  my  coxcomb.  Why,  this  fellow 
has  banished  two  on 's  daughters,  and  did  the  third  a  bless- 
ing against  his  will;  if  thou  follow  him,  thou  must  needs 
wear  m}^  coxcomb. — How  now,  nuncle!  Would  I  had  two 
coxcombs  and  two  daughters!  ^"^ 

Lear.  Why,  my  boy? 

Fool.  If  I  gave  them  all  my  living,  I  'd  keep  my  coxcombs 
myself.     There's  mine;    beg  another  of  thy  daughters. 

Lear.  Take  heed,  sirrah;    the  whip. 

Fool.  Truth 's  a  dog  must  to  kennel :  he  must  be  whipped 
out,  when  Lady  the  brach  may  stand  by  the  fire  and  stink. 

Lear.  A  pestilent  gall  to  me! 

Fool.  Sirrah,  I  '11  teach  thee  a  speech.  "® 

Lear.  Do. 


42  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Fool.  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  thro  west; 
And  thou  shalt  have  more 
Than  two  tens  to  a  score.  ^^^ 

Kent.  This  is  nothing,  fool. 

Fool.  Then  't  is  like  the  breath  of  an  unfee'd  lawyer;  you 
gave  me  nothing  for  't. — Can  you  make  no  use  of  nothing, 
nuncle  ? 

Lear.  Why,  no,  boy;  nothing  can  be  made  out  of  noth- 
ing. 

Fool.  [To  Kent]  Prithee,  tell  him,  so  much  the  rent  of  his 
land  comes  to;   he  will  not  believe  a  fool. 
Lear.  A  bitter  fool! 

Fool.  Dost  thou  know  the  difference,  my  boy,  between  a 
bitter  fool  and  a  sweet  fool  ?  *^^ 

Lear.  No,  lad;    teach  me. 
Fool.  That  lord  that  counsell'd  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.  ^^^ 

Lear.  Dost  thou  call  me  fool,  boy? 
Fool.  All  thy  other  titles  thou  hast  given  away;    that 
thou  wast  born  with. 


TEAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAK 


43 


Kent.  This  is  not  altogether  fool,  my  lord. 

Fool.  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. 

Lear.  What  two  crowns  shall  they  be?  ^^° 

Fool.  Why,  after  I  have  cut  the  egg  i'  the  middle  and  eat 
up  the  meat,  the  two  crowns  of  the  egg.  Wlien  thou  clovest 
thy  crown  i'  the  middle,  and  gav'st  away  both  parts,  thou 
borest  thy  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  ivise  men  are  grown  foppish, 
And  knoiv  not  how  their  wits  to  wear,  ^^^ 

Their  manners  are  so  apish. 

Lear.  When  were  you  wont  to  be  so  full  of  songs,  sirrah  ? 

Fool.  I  have  used  it,  nuncle,  e'er  since  thou  madest  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  ho-peep, 
And  go  the  fools  among. 
Prithee,  nuncle,  keep  a  schoolmaster  that  can  teach  thy  fool 
to  lie.     I  would  fain  learn  to  lie.  ^^^ 

Lear.  An  you  lie,  sirrah,  we  '11  have  you  whipped. 

Fool.  I  marvel  what  kin  thou  and  thy  daughters  are; 
they'll  have  me  whipped  for  speaking  true,  thou 'It  have 
me  whipped  for  lying,  and  sometimes  I  am  whipped  for 


44  THE    CRAITE    CLASSICS 

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'  the  middle. 
Here  comes  one  o'  the  parings. 

Enter  Goneril. 

Lear.  How  now,  daughter !  what  makes  that  frontlet  on  ? 
Methinks  you  are  too  much  of  late  i'  the  frown.  ^^^ 

Fool.  Thou  wast  a  pretty  fellow  when  thou  hadst  no  need 
to  care  for  her  frowning ;  now  thou  art  an  0  without  a  fig- 
ure. 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  crum, 

Weary  of  all,  shall  want  some. — 

That 's  a  shealed  peascod.  ^^^ 

Goneril.  Not  only,  sir,  this  your  all-licens'd  fool, 
But  other  of  your  insolent  retinue 
Do  hourly  carp  and  quarrel,  breaking  forth 
In  rank  and  not-to-be-endured  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  offence. 
Which  else  were  shame,  that  then  necessity 
Will  call  discreet  proceeding. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  45 

Fool.  For,  you  know,  nuncle, 

The  hedge-sparrow  fed  the  cuckoo  so  long, 
That  it 's  had  it  head  hit  off  by  it  young. 
So  out  went  the  candle,  and  we  were  left  darkling. 

Lear.  Are  you  our  daughter  ? 

Goneril.  Come,  sir,  ^^" 

I  would  you  would  make  use  of  that  good  wisdom 
Whereof  I  know  you  are  fraught,  and  put  away 
These  dispositions  which  of  late  transport  you 
From  what  you  rightly  are. 

Fool.  May  not  an  ass  know  when  the  cart  draws  the 
horse?    Whoop,  Jug!  I  love  thee. 

Lear.  Does  any  here  know  me  ?    This  is  not  Lear. 
Does  Lear  walk  thus?  speak  thus?    Wliere  are  his  eyes? 
Either  his  notion  weakens,  his  discernings 
Are  lethargied — Ha!   waking?   't  is  not  so.  ^^® 

A\Tio  is  it  that  can  tell  me  who  I  am? 

Fool.  Lear's  shadow. 

Lear.  I  would  learn  that;  for,  by  the  marks  of  sover- 
eignty, knowledge,  and  reason,  I  should  be  false  persuaded 
I  had  daughters. 

Fool.  Which  they  will  make  an  obedient  father. 

Lear.  Your  name,  fair  gentlewoman? 

Goneril.  This  admiration,  sir,  is  much  o'  the  savour 
Of  other  your  new  pranks.     I  do  beseech  you 
To  understand  my  purposes  aright;    ^  ^^^ 

As  you  are  old  and  reverend,  you  should  be  wise. 
Here  do  you  keep  a  hundred  knights  and  squires ; 
Men  so  disorder'd,  so  debosh'd  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 


46 


THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 


Than  a  grac'd  palace.     The  shame  itself  doth  speak 

For  instant  remedy.     Be  then  desir'd 

By  her,  that  else  will  take  the  thing  she  begs, 

A  little  to  disquantity  your  train;  2*^ 

And  the  remainder,  that  shall  still  depend. 

To  be  such  men  as  may  besort  your  age, 

Wliich  know  themselves  and  you. 

Lear.  Darkness  and  devils! — 

Saddle  my  horses!   call  my  train  together! — 
Degenerate  bastard!    I'll  not  trouble  thee. 
Yet  have  I  left  a  daughter. 

Goneril.  You  strike  my  people,  and  your  disorder' d  rabble 
Make  servants  of  their  betters. 

Enter  Albany. 

Lear.  Woe,  that  too  late  repents. — 0,  sir,  are  you  come? 
Is  it  your  will?    Speak,  sir. — Prepare  my  horses. —        !!^ 
Ingratitude,  thou  marble-hearted  fiend. 
More  hideous  when  thou  shov/'st  thee  in  a  child 
Than  the  sea-monster! 

Albany.  Pi*tiy,  sir,  be  patient. 

Lear.  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. — 0  most  small  fault, 
How  ugly  didst  thou  in  Cordelia  show!  ^^^ 

Which,  like  an  engine,  WTcnch'd  my  frame  of  nature 
From  the  fix'd  place,  drew  from  my  heart  all  love, 
And  added  to  the  gall.     0  Lear,  Lear,  Lear! 
Beatjat  this  gate,  that  let  thy  folly  in,      [Striking  his  head. 
And  thy  dear  judgment  out! — Go,  go,  my  people. 


TKAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAK  47 

Albany.  My  lord,  I  am  guiltless,  as  I  am  ignorant 
Of  what  hath  mov'd  you. 

Lear.  It  may  be  so,  my  lord. — 

Hear,  Nature,  hear;   dear  goddess,  hear! 
Suspend  thy  purpose,  if  thou  didst  intend  ^''^ 

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  honour  her !     If  she  must  teem , 
Create  her  child  of  spleen,  that  it  may  live 
And  be  a  thwart  disnatur'd  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  . 

Hov/  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is  ' 

To  have  a  thankless  child! — Away,  away!  [Exit. 

Albany.  Now,  gods  that  we  adore,  whereof  comes  this? 

Goneril.  Never  afflict  yourself  to  know  the  cause, 
But  let  his  disposition  have  that  scope 
That  dotage  gives  it. 

Re-enter  Lear. 

Lear.  What,  fifty  of  my  followers  at  a  clap! 

Within  a  fortnight! 
Albany.  What's  the  matter,  sir?  ^'^ 

Lear.  I'll  tell  thee. — Life  and  death!   I  am  asham'd 

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 


48  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Pierce  every  sense  about  thee! — Old  fond  eyes, 

Beweep  this  cause  again,  I  '11  pluck  ye  out, 

And  cast  you,  with  the  waters  that  you  lose. 

To  temper  clay. — Ha!   is  it  come  to  this? 

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  '11  flay  thy  wolvish  visage.     Thou  shalt  find 

That  I  '11  resume  the  shape  which  thou  dost  think 

I  have  cast  off  for  ever ;  thou  shalt,  I  warrant  thee. 

[Exeunt  Lear,  Kent,  and  Attendants. 
Goneril.  Do  you  mark  that,  my  lord? 
Albany.  I  cannot  be  so  partial,  Goneril, 
To  the  great  love  I  bear  you, — 

Goneril.  Pray  you,  content. — AVhat,  Oswald,  ho! — 
You,  sir,  more  knave  than  fool,  after  your  master.  ^^^ 

Fool.  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.  [Exit. 

Goneril.  This  man  hath  had  good  counsel!     A  hundred 
knights ! 
'T  is  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 ! 
Albany.  Well,  you  may  fear  too  far. 
Goneril.  Safer  than  trust  too  far. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  49 

Let  me  still  take  away  the  harms  I  fear, 

Not  fear  still  to  be  taken.     I  know  his  heart. 

What  he  hath  utter'd  I  have  writ  my  sister; 

If  she  sustain  him  and  his  hmidred  knights,  ^^^ 

When  I  have  show'd  the  mifitness, — 

Re-enter  Oswald. 

How  now,  Oswald! 
What,  have  you  writ  that  letter  to  my  sister? 

Oswald.  Ay,  madam. 

Goneril.  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  yaur  return. — [Exit  Oswald.]  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  prais'd  for  harmful  mildness. 

Albany.  How  far  your  eyes  may  pierce  I  cannot  tell; 
Striving  to  better,  oft  we  mar  what 's  well. 

Goneril.  Nay,  then — 

Albany.  Well,  well;    the  event.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V.     Court  before  the  Same. 
Enter  Lear,  Kent,  and  Fool. 

Lear.  Go  you  before  to  Gloster  with  these  letters.     Ac- 
quaint my  daughter  no  further  with  any  thing  you  know 
than  comes  from  her  demand  out  of  the  letter.     If  your  dil- 
igence be  not  speedy,  I  shall  be  there  afore  you. 
—4 


50  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Kent.  I  will  not  sleep,  my  lord,  till  I  have  delivered  your 
letter.  [Exit. 

Fool.  If  a  man's  brains  were  in  's  heels,  were  't  not  in 
danger  of  kibes? 

Lear.  Ay,  boy. 

Fool.  Then,  I  prithee,  be  merry;  thy  wit  shall  ne'er  go 
slip  shod.  " 

Lear.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Fool.  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. 

Lear.  AVhat  canst  tell,  boy? 

Fool.  She  will  taste  as  like  this  as  a  crab  does  to  a  crab. 
Thou  canst  tell  why  one's  nose  stands  i'  the  middle  on 's  face  ? 

Lear.  No. 

Fool.  AA^iy,  to  keep  one's  eyes  of  either  side  's  nose,  that 
Avhat  a  man  cannot  smell  out,  he  may  spy  into.  ^^ 

Lear.  I  did  her  wrong — 

Fool.  Canst  tell  how  an  oyster  makes  his  shell? 

Lear.  No. 

Fool.  Nor  I  neither;  but  I  can  tell  why  a  snail  has  a 
house. 

Lear.  Why? 

Fool.  Why,  to  put's  head  in;  not  to  give  it  away  to  his 
daughters,  and  leave  his  horns  without  a  case. 

Lear.  I  will  forget  my  nature.  So  kind  a  father ! — Be  my 
horses  ready?  ^^ 

Fool.  Thy  asses  are  gone  about  'em.  The  reason  why  the 
seven  stars  are  no  moe  than  seven  is  a  pretty  reason. 

Lear.  Because  they  are  not  eight? 

Fool.  Yes,  indeed ;   thou  wouldst  make  a  good  fool. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  51 

Lear.  To  take  't  again  perforce!     Monster  ingratitude! 

FooL  If  thou  wert  my  fool,  nuncle,  I  'd  have  thee  beaten 
for  being  old  before  thy  time. 

Lear.  How's  that? 

Fool.  Thou  shouldst  not  have  been  old  till  thou  hadst 
been  wise.  ^^ 

Lear.  0,  let  me  not  be  mad,  not  mad,  sweet  heaven! 
Keep  me  in  temper :   I  would  not  be  mad ! — 

Enter  Gentleman. 

How  now!   are  the  horses  ready? 
Gentleman.  Ready,  my  lord. 
Lear.  Come,  boy.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

Scene  I.     The  Earl  of  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Edmund  and  Curan,  meeting. 

Edmund.  Save  thee,  Curan. 

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. 

Edmund.  How  comes  that? 

Curan.  Nay,  I  know  not.  You  have  heard  of  the  news 
abroad;  I  mean  the  whispered  ones,  for  they  are  yet  but 
ear-kissing  arguments? 

Edmund.  Not  I ;   pray  you,  what  are  they  ? 

Curan.  Have  you  heard  of  no  likely  wars  toward,  'twixt 
the  Dukes  of  Cornwall  and  Albany?  " 

Edmund.  Not  a  word. 

Curan.  You  may  do  then  in  time.     Fare  you  well,  sir. 

[Exit. 

Edmund.  The  duke  be  here  to-night ?    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!     0  sir,  fly  this  place!  ^^ 

Intelligence  is  given  where  you  are  hid; 

You  have  now  the  good  advantage  of  the  night. 

(52) 


TEAGEDY    OF    K:iiq"G    3LEAR 


53 


Have  you  not  spoken  'gainst  the  Duke  of  Cornwall  ? 
He 's  coming  hither,  now,  i'  the  night,  i'  the  haste, 
And  Regan  with  him ;  have  you  nothing  said 
Upon  his  party  'gainst  the  Duke  of  Albany? 
Advise  yourself. 

Edgar.  I  am  sure  on  't,  not  a  word. 

Edmund.  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. 
Yield!    come  before  my  father! — Light,  ho,  here! — 
Fly,  brother!    Torches,  torches! — So,  farewell. 

[Exit  Edgar. 
Some  blood  drawn  on  me  would  beget  opinion 
Of  my  more  fierce  endeavour.     I  have  seen  drimkards 
Do  m.ore  than  this  in  sport. — Father,  father! — 
Stop,  stop!— No  help? 

Enter  Gloster,  and  Servants  with  torches. 

Gloster.  Now,  Edmund,  where 's  the  villain? 

Edmund.  Here  stood  he  in  the  dark,  his  sharp  sword  out. 
Mumbling  of  wicked  charms,  conjuring  the  moon 
To  stand  auspicious  mistress.  ^^ 

Gloster.  But  where  is  he? 

Edmund.  Look,  sir,  I  bleed. 

Gloster.  Where  is  the  villain,  Edmund? 

Edmund.  Fled  this  way,  sir,  when  by  no  means  he  could — 

Gloster.  Pursue  him,  ho!     Go  after. — [Exeunt  some  Ser- 
vants.]    By  no  means  what? 

Edmund.  Persuade  me  to  the  murther  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 


54  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

The  child  was  bound  to  the  father; — sir,  in  fine, 

Seeing  how  loathly  opposite  I  stood 

To  his  unnatural  purpose,  in  fell  motion 

With  his  prepared  sword  he  charges  home 

My  unprovided  body,  lanc'd  mine  arm : 

But  when  he  saw  my  best  alarum' d  spirits 

Bold  in  the  quarrel's  right,  rous'd  to  the  encoimter, 

Or  whether  gasted  by  the  noise  I  made, 

Full  suddenly  he  fled. 

Gloster.  Let  him  fly  afar : 

Not  in  this  land  shah  he  remain  uncaught; 
And  found — dispatch.     The  noble  duke  my  master. 
My  worthy  arch  and  patron,  comes  to-night. 
By  his  authority  I  will  proclaim  it, 
That  he  which  finds  him  shall  deserve  our  thanks. 
Bringing  the  murtherous  coward  to  the  stake; 
He  that  conceals  him,  death. 

Edmund.  When  I  dissuaded  him  from  his  intent, 
And  found  him  pight  to  do  it  with  curst  speech, 
I  threaten'd  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  faith'd?    No;    what  I  should  deny— 
As  this  I  would,— ay,  though  thou  didst  produce 
My  very  character — I'd  turn  it  all 
To  thy  suggestion,  plot,  and  damned  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 
To  make  thee  seek  it.' 

Gloster.  Strong  and  fasten'd  villain! 


TRAGEDY    OF    IvTNG    LEAR  55 

Would  he  deny  his  letter?    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  '11  work  the  means 

To  make  thee  capable. 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  and  Attendants. 

Cornwall.  How  now,  my  noble  friend !  since  I  came  hither, 
Which  I  can  call  but  now,  I  have  heard  strange  news.  ^^ 

Regan.  If  it  be  true,  all  vengeance  comes  too  short 
Which  can  pursue  the  offender.     How  dost,  my  lord? 

Gloster.  0,  madam,  my  old  heart  is  crack'd, — it 's  crack'd! 

Regan.  What,  did  my  father's  godson  seek  your  life? 
He  whom  my  father  nam'd?   your  Edgar? 

Gloster.  0,  lady,  lady,  shame  would  have  it  hid! 

Regan.  Was  he  not  companion  with  the  riotous  knights 
That  tend  upon  my  father? 

Gloster.  I  know  not,  madam.— 'Tis  too  bad,  too  bad. 

Edmund.  Yes,  madam,  he  was  of  that  consort.  ^"^ 

Regan.  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  inform' d  of  them,  and  with  such  cautions 
That  if  they  come  to  sojourn  at  my  house, 
I  '11  not  be  there. 

Cornivall.  Nor  I,  assure  thee,  Regan. — 

Edmund,  I  hear  that  you  have  shown  j^our  father  "" 

A  child-like  office. 


56  THE    CKAN-E    CLASSICS 

Edmund.  'Twas  my  duty,  sir. 

Gloster.  He  did  bewray  his  practice,  and  receiv'd 
This  hurt  you  see,  striving  to  apprehend  him. 

Cornwall.  Is  he  pursued? 

Gloster.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Cornwall.  If  he  be  taken,  he  shall  never  more 
Be  f ear'd  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. 

Edmund.  I  shall  serve  you,  sir. 

Truly,  however  else. 

Gloster.  For  him  I  thank  your  grace. 

Cornwall.  You  know  not  why  we  came  to  visit  you? 

Regan.  Thus,  out  of  season,  threading  dark-eyed  night; 
Occasions,  noble  Gloster,  of  some  poise. 
Wherein  we  must  have  use  of  your  advice.  ^^^ 

Our  father  he  hath  wTit,  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, 
WHiich  craves  the  instant  use. 

Gloster.  I  serve  you,  madam. — 

Your  graces  are  quite  welcome.  [Flourish.     Exeunt. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  57 

Scene  II.     Before  Gloster^s  Castle. 
Enter  Kent  and  Oswald,  severally. 

Oswald.  Good  dawning  to  thee,  friend ;  art  of  this  house  ? 

Kent.  Ay. 

Oswald.  Where  may  we  set  our  horses  ? 

Kent.  V  the  mire. 

Oswald.  Prithee,  if  thou  lov'st  me,  tell  me. 

Kent.  1  love  thee  not. 

Oswald.  Why  then  I  care  not  for  thee. 

Kent.  If  I  had  thee  in  Lipsbury  pinfold,  I  would  make 
thee  care  for  me. 

Oswald.  Why  dost  thou  use  me  thus  ?    I  know  thee  not. 

Kent.  Fellow,  I  know  thee.  ^^ 

Oswald.  What  dost  thou  know  me  for? 

Kent.  A  knave;  a  rascal;  an  eater  of  broken  meats;  a 
base,  proud,  shallow,  beggarly,  three-suited,  himdred- 
pound,  filthy,  worsted-stocking  knave;  a  lily-livered,  ac- 
tion-taking whoreson,  glass-gazing,  superserviceable,  fini- 
cal rogue ;  one-trmik-inheriting  slave ;  one  that  wouldst  be 
a  bawd  in  way  of  good  service,  and  art  nothing  but  the 
composition  of  a  knave,  beggar,  coward,  pandar,  and  the 
son  and  heir  of  a  mongrel  bitch ;  one  whom  I  will  beat  into 
clamorous  whining,  if  thou  deniest  the  least  syllable  of  thy 
addition.  ^^ 

Oswald.  Wliy,  what  a  monstrous  fellow  art  thou,  thus  to 
rail  on  one  that  is  neither  known  of  thee  nor  knows  thee! 

Kent.  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?  Draw,  you  rogue! 
for,  though  it  be  night,  yet  the  moon  shines;  I  '11  make  a 
sop  o'  the  moonshine  of  you ;  you  whoreson  cullionly  bar- 
ber-mongrel, draw. 


58  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Oswald.  Away!     I  have  nothing  to  do  with  thee.        ^^ 

Kent.  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  '11  so  carbon- 
ado your  shanks!   draw,  you  rascal!   come  your  ways! 

Oswald.  Help,  ho!    murther!    help! 

Kent.  Strike,  you  slave!  stand,  rogue,  stand!  you  neat 
slave,  strike!  [Beating  him. 

Oswald.  Help,  ho!   murther!   murther! 

Enter  Edmund,  with  his  rapier  drawn. 

Edmund.  How  now!  What's  the  matter?  [Parting  them. 

Kent.  With  you,  goodman  boy,  if  you  please ;   come,  I  '11 

flesh  ye!    come  on,  young  master!  ^^ 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  Gloster,  and  Servants. 

Gloster.  Weapons!    arms!     What's  the  matter  here? 

Cornwall.  Keep  peace,  upon  your  lives! 
He  dies  that  strikes  again!    AVhat  is  the  matter? 

Regan.  The  messengers  from  our  sister  and  the  king? 

Cornwall.  What  is  your  difference?   speak. 

Oswald.  I  am  scarce  in  breath,  my  lord. 

Kent.  No  marvel,  you  have  so  bestirred  your  valour.  You 
cowardly  rascal,  nature  disclaims  in  thee;  a  tailor  made 
thee.  -'^ 

Cornwall.  Thou  art  a  strange  fellow ;  a  tailor  make  a  man  ? 

Kent.  Ay,  a  tailor,  sir ;  a  stone-cutter  or  a  painter  could 
not  have  made  him  so  ill,  though  they  had  been  but  two 
hours  o'  the  trade. 

Cornwall.  Speak  yet,  how  grew  your  quarrel? 

Oswald.  This  ancient  ruffian,  sir,  whose  life  I  have  spared 
at  suit  of  his  grey  beard, — 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIN"G    LEAR 


59 


Kent.  Thou  whoreson  zed!  thou  unnecessary  letter!  — 
My  lord,  if  you  will  give  me  leave,  I  will  tread  this 
unbolted  villain  into  mortar. — Spare  my  grey  beard,  you 
wagtail?  '' 

Cornwall.  Peace,  sirrah! — 
You  beastly  knave,  know  you  no  reverence? 

Kent.  Yes,  sir ;   but  anger  hath  a  privilege. 

Cornwall.  Why  art  thou  angry? 

Kent.  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  a-twain 
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, 
Knowing  nought,  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  ye  cackling  home  to  Camelot. 

Cornwall.  Wliat,  art  thou  mad,  old  fellow?  ^^ 

Gloster.  How  fell  you  out?  say  that. 

Kent.  No  contraries  hold  more  antipathy 
Than  I  and  such  a  knave. 

Cornwall.  Why  dost  thou  call  him  knave?     What  is  his 
fault? 

Kent.  His  countenance  likes  me  not. 

Corniuall.  No  more,  perchance,  does  mine,  nor  his,  nor 
hers. 

Kent.  Sir,  't  is  my  occupation  to  be  plain; 
I  have  seen  better  faces  in  my  time 


60  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Than  stands  on  any  shoulder  that  I  see 
Before  me  at  this  instant. 

Cornwall.  This  is  some  fellow, 

Who,  having  been  prais'd  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 
Harbour  more  craft  and  more  corrupter  ends  ^^^ 

Than  twenty  silly-ducking  observants 
That  stretch  their  duties  nicely. 

Kent.  Sir,  in  good  sooth,  in  sincere  verity. 
Under  the  allowance  of  your  great  aspect. 
Whose  influence,  like  the  wreath  of  radiant  fire 
On  flickering  Phoebus'  front, — 

Cornwall.  Wliat  mean'st  by  this? 

Kent.  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.  "2 

Cornwall.  ^Vhat  was  the  offence  you  gave  him? 

Oswald.  I  never  gave  him  any. 
It  pleas' d  the  king  his  master  very  late 
To  strike  at  me,  upon  his  misconstruction ; 
'When  he  compact,  and  flattering  his  displeasure, 
Tripp'd  me  behind;    being  down,  insulted,  rail'd, 
And  put  upon  him  such  a  deal  of  man. 
That  worthied  him,  got  praises  of  the  king  ^^® 

For  him  attempting  who  was  self-subdu'd; 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  61 

And  in  the  fleshment  of  this  dread  exploit 
Drew  on  me  here  again. 

Kent.  None  of  these  rogues  and  cowards 

But  Ajax  is  their  fool. 

Cornwall.  Fetch  forth  the  stocks! — 

You  stubborn  ancient  knave,  you  reverend  braggart, 
We  '11  teach  you — 

Kent.  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  smah  respect,  show^  too  bold  malice 
Against  the  grace  and  person  of  my  master, 
Stocking  his  messenger. 

Cornwall.  Fetch  forth  the  stocks!     As  I  have  life  and 
honour. 
There  shall  he  sit  till  noon. 

Regan.  Till  noon!   till  night,  my  lord;   and  all  night  too. 

Kent.  Why,  madam,  if  I  were  your  father's  dog. 
You  should  not  use  me  so.  ^^'^ 

Regan.  Sir,  being  his  knave,  I  will. 

Cornwall.  This  is  a  fellow  of  the  self-same  colour 
Our  sister  speaks  of. — Come,  bring  away  the  stocks! 

[Stocks  brought  out 

Glosfer.  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  purpos'd  low  correction 
Is  such  as  basest  and  contemned'st  wretches 
For  pilferings  and  most  com.mon  trespasses 
Are  pimish'd  with.     The  king  must  take  it  ill. 
That  he,  so  slightly  valued  in  his  messenger,  ^^^ 

Should  have  him  thus  restrain'd. 

Cornwall.  I'll  answer  that. 


62  THE    CRAI^E    CLASSICS 

Regan.  My  sister  may  receive  it  much  more  worse, 
To  have  her  gentleman  abus'd,  assaulted, 
For  following  her  affairs. — Put  in  his  legs. 

[Kent  is  put  in  the  stocks. 
Come,  my  lord,  away.  [Exeunt  all  hut  Gloster  and  Kent. 

Gloster.  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  friend;    't  is  the  duke's 
pleasure, 
Wliose  disposition,  all  the  world  wtII  know^s, 
Will  not  be  rubb'd  nor  stopp'd.     I  '11  entreat  for  thee.     ^^^ 

Kent.  Pray,  do  not, sir.  I  have  watch'd  and  travel' d  hard; 
Some  time  I  shall  sleep  out,  the  rest  I'll  w^histle 
A  good  man's  fortune  may  grow  out  at  heels. 
Give  you  good  morrow! 

Gloster.  [Aside]  The  duke  's  to  blame  in  this;    't  will  be 
ill  taken.  [Exit. 

Kent.  Good  king,  that  must  approve  the  common  saw, 
Thou  out  of  heaven's  benediction  comest 
To  the  warm  sun! 

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  't  is  from  Cordelia, 
\^Tio  hath  most  fortunately  been  inform' d 
Of  my  obscured  course ;  and  shall  find  time 
From  this  enormous  state,  seeking  to  give 
Losses  their  remedies.     All  weary  and  o'er-watch'd. 
Take  vantage,  heavj^  eyes,  not  to  behold 
This  shameful  lodging. 

Fortune,  good  night :   smile  once  more ;   turn  thy  wheel ! 

[Sleeps. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIN^G    LEAR  63 

Scene  III.     A  Part  of  the  Heath. 
Enter  Edgar. 
Edgar.  I  heard  myself  proclaim'd; 
And  by  the  happy  hollow  of  a  tree 
Escap'd  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  penur^^,  in  contempt  of  man, 
Brought  near  to  beast ;  my  face  I  '11  grime  with  filth, 
Blanket  my  loins,  elf  all  my  hair  in  knots,  ^ 

And  with  presented  nakedness  outface 
The  winds  and  persecutions  of  the  sky. 
The  country  gives  me  proof  and  precedent 
Of  Bedlam  beggars,  who  with  roaring  voices 
Strike  in  their  numb'd  and  mortified  bare  arms 
Pins,  wooden  pricks,  nails,  sprigs  of  rosemary; 
And  with  this  horrible  object,  from  low  farms, 
Poor  pelting  villages,  sheep-cotes  and  mills, 
Sometime  with  lunatic  bans,  sometime  with  prayers, 
Enforce  their  charity.     Poor  Turlygod!    poor  Tom!        ^^ 
That's  something  yet;    Edgar  I  nothing  am.  [Exit. 

Scene  IV.     Before  Gloster's  Castle. 
Kent  in  the  Stocks.     Enter  Lear,  Fool,  and  Gentleman. 

Lear.  'T  is  strange  that  they  should  so  depart  from  home, 
And  not  send  back  my  messenger. 

Gentleman.  As  I  learn' d, 

The  night  before  there  was  no  purpose  in  them 
Of  this  remove. 


64  THE    CRAIs^E    CLASSICS 

Kent.  Hail  to  thee,  noble  master! 

Lear.  Ha! 
Mak'st  thou  this  shame  thy  pastime? 

Kent.  No,  my  lord. 

Fool.  Ha,  ha!  he  wears  cruel  garters.  Horses  are  tied 
by  the  heads,  dogs  and  bears  by  the  neck,  monkeys  by  the 
loins,  and  men  by  the  legs;  when  a  man  's  over-lusty  at 
legs,  then  he  wears  wooden  nether-stocks.  ^^ 

Lear.  Wliat  's  he  that  hath  so  much  thy  place  mistook 
To  set  thee  here? 

Kent.  It  is  both  he  and  she, 

Your  son  and  daughter. 

Lear.  No. 

Kent.  Yes. 

Lear.  No,  I  say.  ^^ 

Kent.  I  say,  yea. 

Lear.  No,  no,  they  would  not. 

Kent.  Yes,  they  have. 

Lear.  By  Jupiter,  I  swear,  no! 

Kent.  By  Juno,  I  swear,  ay! 

Lear.  They  durst  not  do  't; 

They  could  not,  would  not  do  't ;    't  is  worse  than  murther 
To  do  upon  respect  such  violent  outrage. 
Resolve  me  with  all  modest  haste  which  way 
Thou  mightst  deserve,  or  they  impose,  this  usage,  ^" 

Coming  from  us. 

Kent.  My  lord,  when  at  their  home 

I  did  commend  your  highness'  letters  to  them, 
Ere  I  was  risen  from  the  place  that  show'd 
My  duty  kneeling,  came  there  a  reeking  post,  '■ 
Stew'd  in  his  haste,  half  breathless,  panting  forth 
From  Goneril  his  mistress  salutations ; 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    I.EAR  65 

Deliver' d  letters,  spite  of  intermission, 

Which  presently  they  read :  on  whose  contents 

They  summon' d  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  perceiv'd  had  poison'd  mine — 

Being  the  very  fellow  which  of  late 

Display'cl  so  saucily  against  your  highness — 

Having  more  man  than  wit  about  me,  drew : 

He  rais'd  the  house  with  loud  and  coward  cries. 

Your  son  and  daughter  found  this  trespass  worth 

The  shame  which  here  it  suffers.  ^^ 

Fool  Winter 's  not  gone  yet,  if  the  wild  geese  fly  that  way. 
Fathers  that  wear  rags 

Do  make  their  children  blind; 
But  fathers  that  bear  bags 
Shall  see  their  children  kind. — 
But,  for  all  this,  thou  shalt  have  as  many  dolours  for  thy 
daughters  as  thou  canst  tell  in  a  year. 

Lear.  0,  how  this  mother  swells  up  toward  my  heart! 
Hysterica  passio,  down,  thou  climbing  sorrow. 
Thy  element's  below! — AVhere  is  this  daughter?  ^" 

Kent.  With  the  earl,  sir,  here  within. 

Lear.  Follow  me  not;    stay  here.  [Exit. 

Gentleman.  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'  the  stocks  for  that  ques- 
tion, thou  'cist  well  deserve  it. 

Kent,  Why,  fool? 


66  THE    CKANE    CLASSICS 

Fool.  We'll  set  thee  to  school  to  an  ant,  to  teach  thee 
there's  no  labouring  i'  the  whiter.  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  w^ith  following  it;  but  the  great  one  that 
goes  upward,  let  him  draw  thee  after.  "When  a  wise  man 
gives  the  better  counsel,  give  me  mine  again ;  I  would  have 
none  but  knaves  follow.it,  since  a  fool  gives  it. 

That  sir  which  serves  and  seeks  for  gain, 

And  follows  but  for  form,  *^ 

Will  pack  when  it  begins  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,  perdy.. 
Kent.  AVhere  learned  you  this,  fool? 
Fool.  Not  i'  the  stocks,  fool! 

Re-enter  Lear,  with  Gloster. 

Lear.  Deny  to  speak  with  me ?     They  are  sick?  they  are 
weary  ?  ^° 

They  have  travel'd  all  the  night?     Mere  fetches, 
The  images  of  revolt  and  flying  off. 
Fetch  me  a  better  answer. 

Gloster.  My  dear  lord, 

You  know  the  fiery  quality  of  the  duke ; 
How  unremovable  and  fix'd  he  is 
In  his  own  course. 

Lear.  Vengeance!    plague!    death!    confusion! 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR 


67 


Fiery?    what  quality?     Why,  Gloster,  Gloster, 

I  'd  speak  with  the  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  his  wife.  ^"" 

Gloster.  Well,  my  good  lord,  I  have  inform'd  them  so. 

Lear.  Inform'd  them!     Dost  thou  understand  me,  man? 

Gloster.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Lear.  The  king  would  speak  with  Cornwall;    the  dear 
father 
Would  with  his  daughter  speak,  commands  her  service. 
Are  they  inform'd  of  this?     My  breath  and  blood! 
Fiery?    the  fiery  duke?    Tell  the  hot  duke  that— 
No,  but  not  yet ;  may  be  he  is  not  well. 
Infirmity  doth  still  neglect  all  office  "" 

Whereto  our  health  is  bound;  we  are  not  ourselves 
When  nature  being  oppress' d  commands  the  mind 
To  suffer  with  the  body.     I'll  forbear; 
And  am  fallen  out  with  my  more  headier  will, 
To  take  the  indispos'd  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  '11  beat  the  drum 
Till  it  cry  sleep  to  death. 

Gloster.  I  would  have  all  well  betwixt  you.  [Exit. 

Lear.  0  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'  the  paste  alive;  she  knapped  'em  o' 
the  coxcombs  with  a  stick,  and  cried  ^Down,  wantons,  down !' 
'T  was  her  brother  that,  in  pure  kindness  to  his  horse,  but- 
tered his  hay.  ^^^ 


68  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Re-enter  Gloster,  ivith  Cornwall,  Regan,  and  Servants. 

Lear.  Good  morrow  to  you  both. 

Cornwall.  Hail  to  your  grace! 

[Kent  is  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  tomb. 
Sepulchring  an  adulteress. — [To  Kent]  0,  are  you  free? 
Some  other  time  for  that. — Beloved  Regan, 
Thy  sister  's  naught.     0  Regan,  she  hath  tied 
Sharp-tooth'd  unkindness,  like  a  vulture,  here!  "* 

[Points  to  his  heart. 
I  can  scarce  speak  to  thee ;   thou  'It  not  believe 
With  how  deprav'd  a  quality — 0  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  restrain' d  the  riots  of  your  followers, 
'T  is  on  such  ground  and  to  such  wholesome  end  ^^^ 

As  clears  her  from  all  blame. 

Lear.  My  curses  on  her! 

Regan.  0,  sir,  you  are  old; 

Nature  in  you  stands  on  the  very  verge 
Of  her  confine :  you  should  be  rul'd  and  led 
By  some  cUscretion  that  discerns  your  state 
Better  than  you  yourself.     Therefore  I  pray  you 
That  to  our  sister  you  do  make  return ; 
Say  you  have  wrong' d  her,  sir. 


TEAGEDY    OF    KII^G    LEAR  69 

Lear.  Ask  her  forgiveness?  ^^® 

Do  you  but  mark  how  this  becomes  the  house : 
'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.  Never,  Regan! 

She  hath  abated  me  of  half  my  train, 
Look'd  black  upon  me,  strook  me  with  her  tongue, 
Most  serpent-like,  upon  the  very  heart.  ^^° 

All  the  stor'd  vengeances  of  heaven  fall 
On  her  ingrateful  top !     Strike  her  young  bones. 
You  taking  airs,  with  lameness! 

Cornivall.  Fie,  sir,  fie! 

Lear.  You  nimble  lightnings,  dart  your  blinding  flames 
Into  her  scornful  eyes!     Infect  her  beauty. 
You  fen-suck' d  fogs,  drawn  by  the  powerful  sun. 
To  fall  and  blast  her  pride! 

Regan.  0  the  blest  gods!   so  will  you  wish  on  me. 
When  the  rash  mood  is  on.  .      iso 

Lear.  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.     'T  is  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'  the  kingdom  hast  thou  not  forgot, 


70  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Wherein  I  thee  endow 'd. 

Regan.  Good  sir,  to  the  purpose. 

Lear.  Who  put  my  man  i'  the  stocks?       [Tucket  within. 

Cornwall.  What  trumpet  's  that? 

Regan.  I  know 't, — my  sister's;  this  approves  her  letter, 
That  she  would  soon  be  here. — 

Enter  Oswald. 

Is  your  lady  come? 
Lear.  This  is  a  slave,  whose  easy-borrow^'d  pride 
Dwells  in  the  fickle  grace  of  her  he  follows. —  -"^ 

Out,  varlet,  from  my  sight! 

Cornwall.  What  means  your  grace? 

Lear.  Wlio  stock'd  my  servant? — Regan,  I  have  good 
hope 
Thou  didst  not  know  on't. — Who  comes  here? 

Enter  Goneril. 

0  heavens. 
If  you  do  love  old  men,  if  your  sweet  sway 
Allow  obedience,  if  yourselves  are  old, 
Make  it  your  cause;   send  down,  and  take  my  part! — 
Art  not  asham'd  to  look  upon  this  beard? —  ^^® 

0  Regan,  w^ill  you  take  her  by  the  hand? 

Goneril.  Why  not  by  the  hand,  sir?     How  have  I  of- 
fended? 
All's  not  offence  that  indiscretion  finds 
And  dotage  terms  so. 

Lear.  0  sides,  you  are  too  tough ; 

Will  you  yet  hold? — How  came  my  man  i'  the  stocks? 

Cornwall.  I  set  him  there,  sir ;  but  his  own  disorders 
Deserv'd  much  less  advancement. 

Lear.  You!    did  you?  ''' 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  71 

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  wage  against  the  enmity  o'  the  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.  [Pointing  at  Oswald. 

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,  an  embossed  carbuncle. 
In  my  corrupted  blood.     But  I  '11  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. 


i^  THE    CKAWE    CLASSICS 

Regan.  Not  altogether  so; 

I  look'd  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?     'T  is  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  chanc'd  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  follow' d 
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-favour' d, 
When  others  are  more  wicked ;   not  being  the  worst         ^^^ 
Stands  in  some  rank  of  praise.     [To  Goneril]  I  '11  go  with 
thee; 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  73 

Thy  fifty  yet  doth  double  five  and  twenty, 
And  thou  art  twice  her  love. 

Goneril.  Hear  me,  my  lord ; 

AVhat  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.  0,  reason  not  the  need ;   our  basest  beggars 
Are  in  the  poorest  things  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 '11  weep ;  ^^^ 

No,  I'll  not  weep. 

I  have  full  cause  of  weeping ;  but  this  heart 
Shall  break  into  a  hundred  thousand  flaws. 
Or  ere  I'll  weep. — 0  fool,  I  shall  go  mad! 

[Exeunt,  Lear,  Gloster,  Kent,  and  Fool. 
Storm  and  tempest. 


74  THE    CRAT^E    CLASSICS 

Cornwall.  Let  us  withdraw ;   't  will  be  a  storm. 

Regan.  This  house  is  little ;   the  old  man  and  's  people 
Cannot  be  well  bestow'd. 

Goneril.  'T  is  his  own  blame ;  hath  put  himself  from  rest, 
And  must  needs  taste  his  folly. 

Regan.  For  his  particular,  I  '11  receive  him  gladly,         ^^" 
But  not  one  follower. 

Goneril.  So  am  I  purpos'd. 

Where  is  my  lord  of  Gloster? 

Cornwall.  FollowVl  the  old  man  forth:   he  is  returned. 

Re-enter  Gloster. 

Gloster.  The  king  is  in  high  rage. 

Cormvall.  Whither  is  he  going? 

Gloster.  He  calls  to  horse,  but  will  I  know  not  whither. 

Cornwall.  'T  is  best  to  give  him  way ;  he  leads  himself. 

Goneril.  My  lord,  entreat  him  by  no  means  to  stay. 

Gloster.  Alack!   the  night  comes  on,  and  the  high  winds 
Do  sorely  ruffle ;  for  many  miles  about  ^^' 

There's  scarce  a  bush. 

Regan.  0,  sir,  to  wilful  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  abus'd,  wisdom  bids  fear. 

Cornwall.  Shut  up  your  doors,  my  lord;    't  is  a  wild 
night:  ''" 

My  Regan  counsels  well.     Come  out  o'  the  storm. 

[Exeunt . 


ACT  III. 
Scene  I.     A  Heath. 
Storm  still.     Enter  Kent  a7id  a  Gentleman,  meeting. 

Kent.  Who  's  there,  besides  foul  weather? 

Gentleman.  One  minded  like  the  weather,  most  unquietly 

Kent.  I  know  you.     Where's  the  king? 

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 ;   tears  his  white  hair. 
Which  the  impetuous  blasts,  with  eyeless  rage. 
Catch  in  their  fur}^,  and  make  nothing  of; 
Strives  in  his  little  world  of  man  to  out-scorn 
The  to-and-fro-conflicting  wind  and  rain. 
This  night,  wherein  the  cub-drawn  bear  would  couch, 
The  lion  and  the  belly-pinched  wolf 
Keep  their  fur  dry,  unbonneted  he  runs, 
And  bids  what  will  take  all. 

Kent.  But  who  is  with  him? 

Gentleman.  None  but  the  fool,  who  labours  to  outjest 
His  heart-strook  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  cover' d 
With  mutual  cunning,  'twixt  Albany  and  Cornwall ; 
Who  have — as  who  have  not,  that  their  great  stars 
Thron'd  and  set  high? — servants,  who  seem  no  less, 

(75) 


76  THE    CEAN^E    CLASSICS 

Which  are  to  France  the  spies  and  speculations 
InteUigent  of  our  state.     What  hath  been  seen, 
Either  in  snuffs  and  packings  of  the  dukes, 
Or  the  hard  rein  which  both  of  them  have  borne 
Against  the  old  kind  king,  or  something  deeper, 
Whereof  perchance  these  are  but  furnishings, — 
But,  true  it  is,  from  France  there  comes  a  power 
Into  this  scatter' d  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. 
I  am  a  gentleman  of  blood  and  breeding. 
And  from  some  knowledge  and  assurance  offer 
This  office  to  you. 

Gentleman.  I  will  further  talk  with  you. 

Kent.  No,  do  not. 

For  confirmation  that  I  am  much  more 
Than  my  out-wall,  open  this  purse  and  take 
Wliat  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. 

Gentleman.  Give  me  your  hand; 

Have  you  no  more  to  say? 

Kent.  Few  words,  but,  to  effect,  more  than  all  yet; 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIN^G    LEAR  77 

That,  when  we  have  found  the  king, — in  which  your  pain 

That  way,  I  '11  this,— he  that  first  lights  on  him 

Holla  the  other.  [Exeunt  severally. 

Scene  II.     Another  part  of  the  Heath.     Storm  still. 
Enter  Lear  and  Fool. 

Lear.  Blow,  winds,  and  crack  your  cheeks!   rage!   blow! 
You  cataracts  and  hurricanoes,  spout 
Till  you  have  drenched  our  steeples,  drown'd  the  cocks! 
You  sulphurous  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'  the  world! 
Crack  nature's  moulds,  all  germens  spill  at  once 
That  make  ingrateful  man!  * 

Fool.  0  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,  call'd  you  children, 
You  owe  me  no  subscription :   then  let  fall 
Your  horrible  pleasure ;   here  I  stand,  your  slave, 
A  poor,  infirm,  weak,  and  despis'd  old  man.  ^° 

But  yet  I  call  you  servile  ministers. 
That  will  with  two  pernicious  daughters  join 
Your  high-engender' d  battles  'gainst  a  head 
So  old  and  white  as  this.     0!  0!   't  is  foul! 

Fool.  He  that  has  a  house  to  put  's  head  in  has  a  good 
head-piece. 


78  THE    CKANE    CLASSIOS 

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. 

Lear.  No,  I  will  be  the  pattern  of  all  patience ; 
I  will  say  nothing. 

Enter  Kent. 

Kent.  AVho  's  there? 

Fool.  Marry,  here's  a  wise  man  and  a  fool. 

Kent.  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 
The  affliction  nor  the  fear. 

Lear.  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  undivulged  crimes, 
Unwhipp'd  of  justice.     Hide  thee,  thou  bloody  hand. 
Thou  perjur'd,  and  thou  simular  of  virtue  ^^ 

That  art  incestuous.     Caitiff,  to  pieces  shake. 
That  under  covert  and  convenient  seeming 
Has  practis'd  on  man's  life.     Close  pent-up  guilts. 
Rive  your  concealing  continents  and  cry 
These  dreadful  summoners  grace.     I  am  a  man 
More  sinn'd  against  than  sinning. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAK 


79 


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  1  to  this  hard  house —  ^^ 

More  harder  than  the  stones  whereof  't  is  rais'd, 
Which  even  but  now,  demanding  after  you. 
Denied  me  to  come  in — return,  and  force 
Their  scanted  courtesy. 

Lear.  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. 

That  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  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain, 
Must  make  content  with  his  fortunes  fit, 
For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 
Lear.  True,  boy. — Come,  bring  us  to  this  hovel. 

Exeunt  Lear  and  Kent. 
Fool.  I  '11  speak  a  prophecy  ere  I  go : 

When  priests  are  more  in  word  than  matter  ; 

When  brewers  mar  their  malt  with  water ; 

Wlien  nobles  are  their  tailors'  tutors ;  ^^ 

No  heretics  burn'd,  but  wenches'  suitors; 

Wlien  ever}^  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; 

Then  shall  the  realm  of  Albion 

Come  to  great  confusion : 


80  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Then  comes  the  time,  who  hves  to  see  't, 
That  going  shall  be  us'cl  with  feet. 
This  prophecy  Merlin  shall  make ;  for  I  live  before  his  time. 

[Exit. 

Scene  III.     Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Gloster  and  EoaruND. 

Gloster.  Alack,  alack,  Edmund,  I  like  not  this  imnatural 
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. 

Edmund.  Most  savage  and  unnatural!  ^ 

Gloster.  Go  to ;  say  you  nothing.  There 's  a  division  be- 
tween the  dukes,  and  a  worse  matter  than  that.  I  have  re- 
ceived a  letter  this  night ;  't  is  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  it,  as  no 
less  is  threatened  me,  the  king  my  old  master  must  be  re- 
lieved. There  is  strange  things  toward,  Edmund;  pray 
you,  be  careful.  [Exit. 

Edmund.  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. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    I.EAR  81 

Scene  IV.     The  Heath.     Before  a  Hovel. 
Enter  Lear,  Kent,  and  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,  en- 
ter. 

Lear.  Thou  think'st   't  is  much  that  this  contentious 
storm  ^^ 

Invades  us  to  the  skin :  so  't  is  to  thee ; 
But  where  the  greater  malady  is  fix'd. 
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'  the  mouth.     When  the  mind  's 

free 
The  body  's  delicate;   the  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!     0  Regan,  Goneril! 
Your  old  kind  father,  whose  frank  heart  gave  all, — 
0,  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. 

—6 


82  THE    CEAINTE    CLASSICS 

This  tempest  will  not  give  nie  leave  to  ponder  ^ 

On  things  would  hurt  me  more.     But  I  '11  go  in. — 
In,  boy;   go  first. — You  houseless  poverty, — 
Nay,  get  thee  in.     I  '11  pray,  and  then  I  '11  sleep. — 

[Fool  goes  in. 
Poor  naked  wretches,  wheresoe'er  you  are, 
That  bide  the  pelting  of  this  pitiless  storm. 
How  shall  your  houseless  heads  and  unfed  sides, 
Your  loop'd  and  window' d  raggedness,  defend  you 
From  seasons  such  as  these?     0, 1  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. 

Edgar.  [Within]  Fathom  and  half,  fathom  and  half! 
Poor  Tom!  [The  Fool  runs  out  from  the  hovel. 

Fool.  Come  not  in  here,  nuncle,  here's  a  spirit.  Help  me, 
help  me! 

Kent.  Give  me  thy  hand. — ^^Tio's  there? 

Fool.  A  spirit,  a  spirit!   he  says  his  name's  poor  Tom. 

Kent.  AVliat  art  thou  that  dost  grumble  there  i'  the  straw? 
Come  forth.  '' 

Enter  Edgar  disguised  as  a  madman. 

Edgar.  Away!  the  foul  fiend  follows  me!  Through  the 
sharp  hawthorn  blow  the  winds.  Hum!  go  to  thy  bed,  and 
warm  thee. 

Lear.  Didst  thou  give  all  to  thy  daughters?  And  art 
thou  come  to  this? 

Edgar.  AVho  gives  any  thing  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 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  83 

knives  under  his  pillow,  and  halters  in  his  pew;  set  rats- 
bane 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.  0,  do  cle,  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.  What,  have  his  daughters  brought  him  to  this 
pass? —  ^^ 

Couldst  thou  save  nothing?    Wouldst  thou  give  'em  all? 

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

Lear.  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!  noth'ng  could  have  subdued  nature 
To  such  a  lowness  but  his  unkind  daughters. 
Is  it  the  fashion  that  discarded  fathers 
Should  have  thus  little  mercy  on  their  flesh  ? 
Judicious  punishment!   't  was  this  flesh  begot 
Those  pelican  daughters.  ^^ 

Edgar.  Pillicock  sat  on  Pillicock-hill ; 
Halloo,  halloo,  loo,  loo! 

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

Edgar.  Take  heed  o'  the  foul  fiend;  obey  thy  parents; 
keep  thy  word  justty;  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  serving-man,  proud  in  heart  and  mind;  that 
curled  my  hair,  w^ore  gloves  in  my  cap,  swore  as  many  oaths 


84  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

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  greed- 
iness, 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  pen  from  lend- 
ers' books,  and  defy  the  foul  fiend. — Still  through  the  haw- 
thorn blows  the  cold  wind ;  says  suum,  mun,  nonny.  Dol- 
phin my  boy,  boy,  sessa!   let  him  trot  by.  [Storm  still. 

Lear.  Thou  wert  better  in  thy  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.  ^°® 

Fool.  Prithee,  nuncle,  be  contented ;  't  is  a  naughty  night 
to  swim  in.  Now  a  little  fire  in  a  wide  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  Flibbertigibbet.     He  begins  at 
curfew  and  walks  at  first  cock;   he  gives  the  web  and  the 
pin,  squints  the  eye,  and  makes  the  hare-lip ;  mildews  the 
white  wheat  and  hurts  the  poor  creature  of  earth. 
Saint  Withold  footed  thrice  the  old; 
He  met  the  nightmare  and  her  nine-fold; 

Bid  her  alight,  '=^' 

And  her  troth  plight. 
And,  aroint  thee,  witch,  aroint  thee! 


TRAGEDY  OF  KING  LEAR  85 

Enter  Gloster,  with  a  torch. 

Kent.  How  fares  your  grace? 

Lear.  What  's  he? 

Kent.  Who's  there?    What  is  't  you  seek? 

Gloster.  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  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  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! 

Gloster.  What,  hath  your  grace  no  better  company? 

Edgar.  The  prince  of  darkness  is  a  gentleman;  Modo 
he  's  called,  and  Mahu. 

Gloster.  Our  flesh  and  blood,  my  lord,  is  grown  so  vile. 
That  it  doth  hate  what  gets  it.  ^^^ 

Edgar.  Poor  Tom  's  a-cold. 

Gloster.  Go  in  with  me ;   my  duty  cannot  suffer 
To  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  food  and  fire  is  ready. 

Lear.  First  let  me  talk  with  this  philosopher. —  ^^^ 

What  is  the  cause  of  thunder? 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  take  his  offer;  go  into  the  house. 


86  THE    CRAlSrE    CLASSICS 

Lear.  I  '11  talk  a  Avorcl  with  this  same  learned  Theban. — 
What  is  your  study? 

Edgar.  How  to  prevent  the  fiend  and  to  kill  vermin. 

Lear.  Let  me  ask  you  one  word  in  private. 

Kent.  Importune  him  once  more  to  go,  my  lord; 
His  wits  begin  to  unsettle. 

Gloster.  Canst  thou  blame  him? 

[Storm  still. 
His  daughters  seek  his  death.    Ah,  that  good  Kent!         ^^^ 
He  said  it  would  be  thus,  poor  banish'd  man! 
Thou  say 'st  the  king  grows  mad ;   I  '11  tell  thee,  friend, 
I  am  almost  mad  myself.     I  had  a  son, 
Now  outlaw'd  from  my  blood;   he  sought  my  life. 
But  lately,  very  late.     I  lov'd  him,  friend, 
No  father  his  son  dearer ;   true  to  tell  thee. 
The  grief  hath  craz'd  my  wits.     What  a  night  's  this! — 
I  do  beseech  your  grace, — 

Lear.  0,  cry  you  mercy,  sir. — 

Noble  philosopher,  your  company.  *^^ 

Edgar.  Tom  's    a-cold. 

Gloster.  In,   fellow,   there,   into   the  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.  Good  my  lord,  soothe  him ;  let  him  take  the  fellow. 

Gloster.  Take  him  you  on. 

Kent.  Sirrah,  come  on ;   go  along  with  us.  ^^^ 

Lear.  Come,  good  Athenian. 

Gloster.  No  words,  no  words;   hush! 


TRAGEDY  OP  KING  LEAR  87 

Edgar.  Child  Rowland  to  the  dark  tower  came; 

His  word  ivas  still, — Fie,  foh,  and  fum, 
I  smell  the  blood  of  a  British  man.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V.     Glostefs  Castle. 
Enter  Cornwall  and  Edmund. 

Cornwall.  I  will  have  my  revenge  ere  I  depart  this  house. 

Edmund.  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. 

Edmund.  How  malicious  is  my  fortune,  that  I  must  re- 
pent to  be  just!  This  is  the  letter  he  spoke  of,  which  ap- 
proves him  an  intelligent  party  to  the  advantages  of  France. 
0  heavens!  that  this  treason  were  not,  or  not  I  the  detector! 

Cornwall.  Go  with  me  to  the  duchess.  ^^ 

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

Cornwall.  True  or  false,  it  hath  made  the  earl  of  Gloster. 
Seek  out  where  thy  father  is,  that  he  may  be  ready  for  our 
apprehension. 

Edmund.  [Aside]  If  I  find  him  comforting  the  king,  it  will 
stuff  his  suspicion  more  fully. — I  will  persever  in  my  course 
of  loyalty,  though  the  conflict  be  sore  between  that  and  my 
blood.  21 

Cornwall.  I  will  lay  trust  upon  thee,  and  thou  shalt  find 
a  dearer  father  in  my  love.  [Exeunt. 


88  THE    CRANE    CLxVSSICS 

Scene  VI.     A  Chamber  in  a  Farmhouse  adjoining  the  Castle. 
Enter  Gloster,  Lear,  Kent,  Fool,  and  Edgar. 

Gloster.  Here  is  better  than  the  open  air ;  take  it  thank- 
fully. I  will  piece  out  the  comfort  with  what  addition  I  can. 
I  will  not  be  long  from  you. 

Kent.  All  the  power  of  his  wits  have  given  way  to  his  im- 
patience.    The  gods  reward  your  kindness!     [Exit  Gloster. 

Edgar.  Frateretto  calls  me,  and  tells  me  Nero  is  an  ang- 
ler in  the  lake  of  darkness. — Pray,  innocent,  and  beware  the 
foul  fiend. 

Fool.  Prithee,  nuncle,  tell  me  whether  a  madman  be  a 
gentleman  or  a  yeoman?  ^^ 

Lear.  A  king,  a  king! 

Fool.  No,  he  's  a  yeoman  that  has  a  gentleman  to  his  son; 
for  he  's  a  mad  yeoman  that  sees  his  son  a  gentleman  be- 
fore him. 

Lear.  To  have  a  thousand  with  red  burning  spits 
Come  hizzing  in  upon  'em, — 

Edgar.  The  foul  fiend  bites  my  back. 

Fool.  He  's  mad  that  trusts  in  the  tameness  of  a  wolf,  a 
horse's  health,  a  boy's  love,  or  a  whore's  oath.  ^^ 

Lear.  It  shall  be  done ;   I  will  arraign  them  straight. — 
[To  Edgar]  Come,  sit  thou  here,  most  learned  justicer. — 
[To  the  Fool]  Thou,  sapient  sir,  sit  here. — Now,  you  she 
foxes ! 

Edgar.  Look,  where  he  stands  and  glares!  Wantest  thou 
eyes  at  trial,  madam? 

Come  o'er  the  bourn,  Bessy,  to  me. 

Fool.        Her  boat  hath  a  leak. 

And  she  must  not  speak 
Why  she  dares  not  come  over  to  thee.  ^^ 


TRAGEDY    OF    KII^G    I.EAR  89 

Edgar.  The  foul  fiend  haunts  poor  Tom  in  the  voice  of  a 
nightingale.  Hoppeclance  cries  in  Tom's  belly  for  two 
white  herring.  Croak  not,  black  angel ;  I  have  no  food  for 
thee. 

Kent.  How  do  you,  sir?    Stand  you  not  so  amaz'd. 
Will  you  lie  down  and  rest  upon  the  cushions? 

Lear.  I  '11  see  their  trial  first. — Bring  in  their  evidence. — 
[To  Edgar]  Thou  robed  man  of  justice,  take  thy  place, — 
[To  the  Fool]  And  thou,  his  yoke-fellow  of  equity, 
Bench  by  his  side. — [To  Kent]  You  are  o'  the  commission, 
Sit  you  too.  '' 

Edgar.  Let  us  deal  justly. 

Steepest  or  wakest  thou,  jolly  shepherd  f 

Thy  sheep  he  in  the  corn; 
And  for  one  blast  of  thy  minikin  mouth, 
Thy  sheep  shall  take  no  harm. 
Pur!  the  cat  is  grey. 

Lear.  Arraign  her  first;  't  is  Goneril.  I  here  take  my 
oath  before  this  honourable  assembly,  she  kicked  the  poor 
king  her  father. 

Fool.  Come  hither,  mistress.     Is  your  name  Goneril? 

Lear.  She  cannot  deny  it.  ^^ 

Fool.  Cry  you  mercy,  I  took  you  for  a  joint  stool. 

Lear.  And  here's  another,  whose  warp'd  looks  proclaim 
What  store  her  heart  is  made  on. — Stop  her  there! 
Arms,   arms,   sword,   fire!     Corruption  in  the  place! 
False  justicer,  w^hy  has  thou  let  her  escape? 

Edgar.  Bless  thy  five  wits ! 

Kent.  0   pity! — Sir,   where  is   the   patience  now, 
That  you  so  oft  have  boasted  to  retain  ? 

Edgar.  [Aside]  My  tears  begin  to  take  his  part  so  much. 
They  mar  my  counterfeiting.  ^^ 


90  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Lear.  The  little  dogs  and  all, 
Tray,   Blanch,  and  Sweetheart,  see,  they  bark  at  me. 

Edgar.  Tom  will  throw  his  head  at  them. — Avaunt,  you 
curs ! 

Be  thy  mouth  or  black  or  white. 
Tooth  that  poisons  if  it  bite ; 
Mastiff,  greyhound,  mongrel  grim. 
Hound  or  spaniel,  brach  or  lym. 
Or  bobtail  tike  or  trundle-tail,  '" 

Tom  will  make  him  weep  and  wail; 
For,  with  throAving  thus  my  head. 
Dogs  leap'd  the  hatch,  and  all  are  fled. 
Do  de,  de,  de.     Sessa!    Come,  march  to  w^akes  and  fairs 
and  market-towns.     Poor  Tom,  thy  horn  is  dry. 

Lear.  Then  let  them  anatomize  Regan ;  see  what  breeds 
about  her  heart.  Is  there  any  cause  in  nature  that  makes 
these  hard  hearts? — {To  Edgar)  You,  sir,  I  entertain  for  one 
of  my  hundred ;  only  I  do  not  like  the  fashion  of  your  gar- 
ments. You  will  say  the}^  are  Persian;  but  let  them  be 
changed.  *^ 

Kent.  Now,  good  my  lord,  lie  here  and  rest  awhile. 
Lear.  Make  no  noise,  make  no  noise;   draw  the  curtains: 
so,  so.     We'll  go  to  supper  i'  the  morning. 
Fool.  And  I  '11  go  to  bed  at  noon. 

Re-enter  Gloster. 

Gloster.  Come  hither,  friend ;  Avhere  is  the  king  my  mas- 
ter? 

Kent.  Here,  sir;    but  trouble  him  not,  his  wits  are  gone. 

Gloster.  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  *n  't, 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIKG    LEAR  91 

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  assured  loss.     Take  up,  take  up; 

And  follow  me,  that  will  to  some  provision 

Give  thee  quick  conduct. 

Kent.  Oppress' d  nature  sleeps. 

This  rest  might  yet  have  balni'cl  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. 

Gloster.  Come,  come,  away. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Edgar. 

Edgar.  When  we  our  betters  see  bearing  our  woes. 
We  scarcely  think  our  miseries  our  foes. 
^Tio  alone  suffers  suffers  most  i'  the  mind. 
Leaving  free  things  and  happy  shows  behind ; 
But  then  the  mind  much  sufferance  doth  o'er  skip,  ^^^ 

AVhen  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  father'd!     Tom,  away! 
Mark  the  high  noises,  and  thyself  bewray, 
Wlien  false  opinion,  whose  wrong  thoughts  defile  thee. 
In  thy  just  proof  repeals  and  reconciles  thee. 
What  will  hap  more  to-night,  safe  scape  the  king! 
Lurk,  lurk.  [Exit. 


92  THE    CEAiq-E    CLASSICS 

Scene  VIL     Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  Goneril,  Edmund,  and  Servants. 

Cornwall.  [To  Goneril]  Post  speedily  to  my  lord  your  hus- 
band :  show  him  this  letter :  the  army  of  France  is  landed. 
— Seek  out  the  villain  Gloster.    [Exeunt  some  of  the  Servants. 

Regan.  Hang  him  instantly. 

Goneril.  Pluck  out  his  eyes. 

Cornwall.  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  be- 
holding. 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  Gloster.—  ^^ 

Enter  Oswald. 

How  now!    where  's  the  king? 

Oswald.  My  lord  of  Gloster  hath  convey'd  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  dependants. 
Are  gone  with  him  toward  Dover,  where  they  boast 
To  have  well-armed  friends. 

Cornwall.  Get  horses  for  your  mistress. 

Goneril.  Farewell,  sweet  lord,  and  sister.  ^^ 

Cornwall.  Edmund,  farewell. — 

[Exeunt  Goneril,  Edmund,  and  Oswald. 
Go  seek  the  traitor  Gloster. 
Pinion  him  like  a  thief,  bring  him  before  us. — 

[Exeunt  other  Servants. 
Though  well  we  may  not  pass  upon  his  life 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR 


93 


Without  the  form  of  justice,  yet  our  power 

Shall  do  a  courtesy  to  our  wrath,  which  men 

May  blame  but  not  control. — Who's  there?   the  traitor? 

Enter  Gloster,  brought  in  by  two  or  three. 

Regan.  Ingrateful  fox!   't  is  he. 

Cornwall.  Bind  fast  his  corky  arms.  ^® 

Gloster.  What  means  your  graces?    Good  my  friends, 
consider 
You  are  my  guests ;   do  me  no  foul  play,  friends. 

Cornwall.  Bind  him,  I  say. 

Regan.  Hard,  hard. — 0  filthy  traitor ! 

Gloster.  Unmerciful  lady  as  you  are,  I  'm  none. 

Cornwall.  To  this  chair  bind  him. — Villain,  thou  shalt 
find —  {Regan  ^plucks  his  beard. 

Gloster.  By  the  kind  gods,  't  is  most  ignobly  done 
To  pluck  me  by  the  beard.  *° 

Regan.  So  white,  and  such  a  traitor! 

Gloster.  Naughty  lady, 

These  hairs  which  thou  dost  ravish  from  my  chin 
Will  quicken  and  accuse  thee.     I  am  your  host; 
With  robbers'  hands  my  hospitable  favours 
You  should  not  ruffie  thus.     What  will  you  do? 

Cornwall.  Come,   sir,  what  letters  had  you  late  from 
France? 

Regan.  Be  simple-answer' d,  for  we  know  the  truth. 

Cornwall.  And  what  confederacy  have  you  with  the  trai- 
tors '' 
Late  footed  in  the  kingdom? 

Regan.  To  whose  hands  have  you  sent  the  lunatic  king? 
Speak. 

Gloster.  I  have  a  letter  guessingly  set  down, 


94  THE    CKANE    CLASSICS 

Which  came  from  one  that  's  of  a  neutral  heart, 
And  not  from  one  oppos'd. 

CornivaU.  Cunning. 

Regan.  And  false. 

Cornwall.  Where  hast  thou  sent  the  king?  ^^ 

Gloster.  To  Dover. 

Regan.  Wherefore  to  Dover.     Wast  thou  not  charg'd  at 
peril — 

Cornicall.  \%erefore  to  Dover? — Let  him  first  answer 
that. 

Gloster.  I  am  tied  to  the  stake,  and  I  must  stand  the 
course. 

Regan.  Wherefore  to  Dover? 

Gloster.  Because  I  would  not  see  th}^  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  endur'd,  would  have  buoy'd  up, 
And  quench'd  the  stelled  fires; 
Yet,  poor  old  heart,  he  holp  the  heavens  to  rain. 
If  wolves  had  at  thy  gate  howl'd  that  stern  time, 
Thou  shouldst  have  said,  ^Good  porter,  turn  the  key, 
All  cruels  else  subscribe.'     But  I  shall  see 
The  winged  vengeance  overtake  such  children. 

CornivaU.  See   't  shalt  thou  never. — Fellows,  hold  the 
chair.— 
Upon  these  eyes  of  thine  I  '11  set  my  foot. 

Gloster.  He  that  will  think  to  live  till  he  be  old, 
Give  me  some  help! — 0  cruel!     0  you  gods! 

Regan.  One  side  will  mock  another;    the  other  too. 

CornivaU.  If  you  see  vengeance — 

1  Servant.  Hold  your  hand,  my  lord! 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  95 

I  have  serv'd  you  ever  since  I  was  a  child ; 

But  better  service  have  I  never  done  you 

Than  now  to  bid  you  hold.  ^^ 

Regan.  How  now,  you  dog! 

1  Servant.  If  you  did  wear  a  beard  upon  your  chin, 
I'd  shake  it  on  this  quarrel.     What  do  you  mean? 

Cornivall.  My  villain!  [They  draw  and  fight. 

1  Servant.  Nay,  then,  come  on,  and  take  the  chance  of 
anger. 

Regan.  Give  me  thy  sword. — A  peasant  stands  up  thus! 
[Takes  a  sword,  and  runs  at  him  behind. 

1  Servant.  0, 1  am  slain! — My  lord,  you  have  one  eye  left 
To  see  some  mischief  on  him. — 0 !  [Dies. 

Cornwall.  Lest  it  see  more,  prevent  it. — Out,  vile  jelly! 
Where  is  thy  lustre  now?  ^°^ 

Gloster.  All  dark  and  comfortless. — Where's  my  son  Ed- 
mund? 
Edmund,  enkindle  all  the  sparks  of  nature, 
To  quit  this  horrid  act. 

Regan.  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. 

Gloster.  0  my  follies!   then  Edgar  was  abus'd. —  "** 

Kind  gods,  forgive  me  that,  and  prosper  him! 

Regan.  Go  thrust  him  out  at  gates,  and  let  him  smell 
His  way  to  Dover. — [Exit  one  with  Gloster.]     How  is  't  my 
lord?  how  look  you? 

Cornwall.  I  have  received  a  hurt;    follow  me,  lady. — 
Turn  out  that  eyeless  villain ;   throw  this  slave 
Upon  the  dunghill. — Regan,  I  bleed  apace; 


96  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Untimely  comes  this  hurt.     Give  me  your  arm. 

[Exit  Cornwall,  led  by  Regan. 

2  Servant.  I  '11  never  care  what  wickedness  I  do, 

If  this  man  come  to  good.  '^^^ 

3  Servant.  If  she  live  long, 
And  in  the  end  meet  the  old  course  of  death. 
Women  will  all  turn  monsters. 

2  Servant.  Let  's  follow  the  old  earl,  and  get  the  Bedlam 
To  lead  him  where  he  would ;  his  roguish  madness 
Allows  itself  to  anything. 

3  Servant.  Go  thou.     I'll  fetch  some  flax  and  whites  of 

eggs 
To  apply  to  his  bleeding  face.     Now,  heaven  help  him! 

[Exeunt  severally. 


ACT  IV. 

Scene  I.     The  Heath. 
Enter  Edgar. 
Edgar.  Yet  better  thus,  and  known  to  be  contemn'd, 
Than  still  contemn'd  and  flatter'd.     To  be  worsts 
The  lowest  and  most  dejected  thmg  of  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  w^ho  comes  here? 

Enter  Gloster,  led  hy  an  old  man. 

My  father,  poorly  led? — World,  world,  0  w^orld! 
But  that  thy  strange  mutations  make  us  hate  thee, 
Life  would  not  yield  to  age. 

Old  Man.  0  my  good  lord, 

I  have  been  your  tenant,  and  your  father's  tenant. 
These  fourscore  years. 

Gloster.  Away,  get  thee  away ;   good  friend,  be  gone, 
Thy  comforts  can  do  me  no  good  at  all ; 
Thee  they  may  hurt. 

Old  Man.  You  cannot  see  your  w^ay. 

Gloster.  I  have  no  way,  and  therefore  want  no  eyes  ; 
I  stumbled  when  I  saw.     Full  oft 't  is  seen. 
Our  means  secure  us,  and  our  mere  defects 
Prove  our  commodities. — 0  dear  son  Edgar, 

-7  (  97  ) 


98  THE    CRAl^E    CLASSICS 

The  food  of  thy  abused  father's  wrath ! 
Might  I  but  hve  to  see  thee  in  my  touch, 
I'd  say  I  had  eyes  again! 

Old  Man.  How  now!     Wlio's  there? 

Edgar.  [Aside]  0  gods!     Who  is  't  can  say  'I  am  at  the 
worst'? 
I  am  worse  than  e'er  I  was.    ^  ^" 

Old  Man.  'T  is  poor  mad  Tom. 

Edgar.  \Adde\  And  worse  I  may  be  yet;  the  worst  is  not 
So  long  as  we  can  say  'This  is  the  worst.' 

Old  Man.  Fellow,  where  goest? 

Gloster.  Is  it  a  beggar-man? 

Old  Man.  Madman  and  beggar  too. 

Gloster.  He  has  some  reason,  else  he  could  not  beg. 
I'  the  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  the  gods; 
They  kill  us  for  their  sport. 

Edgar.  [Aside]  How  should  this  be? 

Bad  is  the  trade  that  must  play  fool  to  sorrow, 
Angering  itself  and  others. — Bless  thee,  master! 

Gloster.  Is  that  the  naked  fellow? 

Old.  Man.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Gloster.  Then,  prithee,  get  thee  gone.     If  for  my  sake 
Thou  wilt  o'ertake  us  hence  a  mile  or  twain  ^^ 

I'  the  way  toward  Dover,  do  it  for  ancient  love; 
And  bring  some  covering  for  this  naked  soul. 
Which  I  '11  entreat  to  lead  me. 
Old  Man.  Alack,  sir,  he  is  mad. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  99 

Gloster.  'T  is  the  times'  plague,  when  madmen  lead  the 
blind. 
Do  as  I  bid  thee,  or  rather  do  thy  pleasure ; 
Above  the  rest,  be  gone. 

Old  Man.  I  '11  bring  him  the  best  'parel  that  I  have. 
Come  on  't  what  will.  -j  [Exit. 

Gloster.  Sirrah,  naked  fellow, —  ^^ 

Edgar.  Poor  Tom  's  a-cold. — [Aside]  I  cannot   daub  it 
further. 

Gloster.  Come  hither,  fellow. 

Edgar.  [Aside]  And  yet  I  must. — Bless  thy  sweet  eyes, 
they  bleed. 

Gloster.  Know'st  thou  the  way  to  Dover? 

Edgar.  Both  stile  and  gate,  horse-way  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;  Hobbid- 
idence,  prince  of  dumbness;  Mahu,  of  stealing;  Modo,  o 
murther;  Flibbertigibbet,  of  mopping  and  mowing,  who 
since  possesses  chambermaids  and  waiting-women.  So, 
bless  thee,  master!  ^^ 

Gloster.  Here,  take  this  purse,  thou  whom  the  heaven's 
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 ; 
So  distribution  should  undo  excess, 
And  each  man  have  enough. — Dost  thou  know  Dover? 

Edgar.  Ay,  master. 

Gloster.  There  is  a  cliff  whose  high  and  bending  head 


100  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

Looks  fearfully  in  the  confined  deep : 

Bring  me  but  to  the  very  brim  of  it, 

And  I  '11  repair  the  misery  thou  dost  bear  ^^ 

With  something  rich  about  me;   from  that  place 

I  shall  no  leading  need. 

Edgar.  Give  me  thy  arm; 

Poor  Tom  shall  lead  thee.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.     Before  the  Duke  of  Albany^ s  Palace. 
Enter  Goneril  and  Edmund. 
Goneril.  Welcome,  my  lord ;   I  marvel  our  mild  husband 
Not  met  us  on  the  way. — 

Enter  Oswald. 

Now,  where 's  your  master? 

Osivald.  Madam,  within;    but  never  man  so  chang'd. 
I  told  him  of  the  army  that  was  landed ; 
He  smil'd  at  it.     I  told  him  you  were  coming; 
His  answer  was,  The  worse.'     Of  Gloster's  treachery, 
And  of  the  loyal  service  of  his  son, 
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  seems  pleasant  to  him ; 
"Wliat  like,  offensive. 

Goneril.  [To  Edmund]   Then  shall  you  go  no  further. 
It  is  the  cowish  terror  of  his  spirit. 
That  dares  not  undertake ;  he  '11  not  feel  wrongs 
"WHiich  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  arms  at  home,  and  give  the  distaff 
Into  my  husband's  hands.     This  trusty  servant  ^^ 


TEAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR 


101 


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. 

[Giving  a  favour. 
Decline  your  head ;   this  kiss,  if  it  durst  speak. 
Would  stretch  thy  spirits  up  into  the  air. 
Conceive,  and  fare  thee  well. 

Edmund.  Yours  in  the  ranks  of  death. 

Goneril.  My  most  dear  Gloster! 

[Exit  Edmund. 
0,  the  difference  of  man  and  man ! 

To  thee  a  woman's  services  are  due ;  ^^ 

My  fool  usurps  my  body. 

Oswald.  Madam,  here  comes  my  lord. 

[Exit. 

Enter  Albany. 

Goneril.  I  have  been  worth  the  whistle. 

Albany.  0  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  border' d  certain  in  itself; 
She  that  herself  will  sliver  and  disbranch 
From  her  material  sap,  perforce  nmst  wither  *" 

And  come  to  deadly  use. 

Goneril.  No  more;    the  text  is  foolish. 

Albany.  Wisdom  and  goodness  to  the  vile  seem  vile; 
Filths  savour  but  themselves.     What  have  you  done? 
Tigers,  not  daughters,  what  have  you  perform'd? 
A  father,  and  a  gracious  aged  man, 
Whose  reverence  even  the  head-lugg'd  bear  would  lick. 
Most  barbarous,  most  degenerate!   have  you  madded. 


102  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

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  offences, 

It  will  come, 

Humanity  must  perforce  prey  on  itself, 

Like  monsters  of  the  deep. 

Goneril.  Milk-liver'd  man! 

That  bear'st  a  cheek  for  blows,  a  head  for  wrongs ; 
Who  hast  not  in  thy  brows  an  eye  discerning 
Thine  honour  from  thy  suffering;   that  not  know'st 
Fools  do  those  villains  pity  who  are  punish'd  *^° 

Ere  they  have  done  their  mischief, — where's  thy  drum? 
France  spreads  his  banners  in  our  noiseless  land, 
With  plumed  helm  thy  state  begins  to  threat, 
Whilst  thou,  a  moral  fool,  sit'st  still  and  criest 
'Alack,  why  does  he  so?' 

Albany.  See  thyself,  devil! 

Proper  deformity  seems  not  in  the  fiend 
So  horrid  as  in  woman. 

Goneril.  0  vain  fool! 

Albany.  Thou  changed  and  self-cover'd  thing,  for  shame, 
Be-monster  not  thy  feature.     Were  't  my  fitness  ^^ 

To  let  these  hands  obey  my  blood. 
They  are  apt  enough  to  dislocate  and  tear 
Thy  flesh  and  bones.     Howe'er  thou  art  a  fiend, 
A  woman's  shape  doth  shield  thee. 

Goneril.  Marry,  your  manhood  now! — 

Enter  a  Messenger. 
Albany.  What  news? 

Messenger.  0,  my  good  lord,  the  Duke  of  Cornwall  's 
dead ; 


TRAGEDY    OE*    KING    LEAR  103 

Slain  by  his  servant,  going  to  put  out  ^^ 

The  other  eye  of  Gloster. 

Albany.  Gloster's  eyes! 

Messenger.  A  servant  that  he  bred,  thrill'd  with  remorse 
Oppos'd  against  the  act,  bending  his  sword 
To  his  great  master;   who  thereat  enrag'd 
Flew  on  him  and  amongst  them  fell'd  him  dead. 
But  not  without  that  harmful  stroke  which  since 
Hath  pluck' d  him  after. 

Albany.  This  shows  you  are  above, 

You  justicers,  that  these  our  nether  crimes  ^^ 

So  speedily  can  venge! — But,  0  poor  Gloster! 
Lost  he  his  other  eye? 

Messenger.  Both,  both,  my  lord. — 

This  letter,  madam,  craves  a  speedy  answer ; 
'T  is  from  your  sister. 

Goneril.  \^Aside'\  One  way  I  like  this  well; 

But  being  widow,  and  my  Gloster  with  her, 
May  all  the  building  in  my  fancy  pluck 
Upon  my  hateful  life :  another  way,  ^^ 

The  news  is  not  so  tart. — I  '11  read,  and  answer.  [Exit. 

Albany.  Where  was  his  son  when  they  did  take  his  eyes? 

Messenger.  Come  with  my  lady  hither. 

Albany.  He  is  not  here. 

Messenger.  No,  my  good  lord ;  I  met  him  back  again. 

Albany.  Knows  he  the  wickedness? 

Messenger.  Ay,  my  good  lord ;   't  was  he  inform' d  against 
him, 
And  quit  the  house  on  purpose,  that  their  punishment 
Might  have  the  freer  course. 

Albany.  Gloster,  I  live  "" 

To  thank  thee  for  the  love  thou  show'dst  the  king. 


104  TPIE    CEAJSTE    CLASSICS 

And  to  revenge  thine  eyes. — Come  hither,  friend; 

Tell  me  what  more  thou  know'st.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III.     The  French  Camp  near  Dover. 
Enter  Kent  and  a  Gentleman. 

Kent.  Why  the  King  of  France  is  so  suddenly  gone  back, 
know  you  the  reason? 

Gentleman.  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. 

Kent.  Who  hath  he  left  behind  him  general? 

Gentleman.  The  Marshal  of  France,  Monsieur  La  Far. 

Kent.  Did  your  letters  pierce  the  queen  to  any  demon- 
stration of  grief?  ^^ 

Gentleman.  Ay,  sir ;  she  took  them,  read  them  in  my  pres- 
ence. 
And  now  and  then  an  ample  tear  trill' d  down 
Her  delicate  cheek.     It  seem'd  she  was  a  queen 
Over  her  passion,  who  most  rebel-like 
Sought  to  be  king  o'er  her. 

Kent.  0,  then  it  mov'd  her. 

Gentleman.  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  play'd  on  her  ripe  lip,  seem'd  not  to  know 
What  guests  were  in  her  eyes,  which  parted  thence 
As  pearls  from  diamonds  dropp'd.     In  brief. 
Sorrow  would  be  a  rarit}^  most  belov'd. 
If  all  could  so  become  it. 

Kent,  Made  she  no  verbal  question? 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  105 

Gentleman.  Faith,  once  or  twice  she  heav'd  the  name  of 
father 
Pantingly  forth,  as  if  it  press'd  her  heart;  ^"^ 

Cried  '  Sisters !   sisters !     Shame  of  ladies !   sisters ! 
Kent!   father!   sisters!     What,  i'  the  storm?   i'  the  night? 
Let  pity  not  be  beUev'd!'     There  she  shook 
Tlie  ho]y  water  from  her  heavenly  eyes. 
And,  clamour-moisten' d,  then  away  she  started 
To  deal  with  grief  alone. 

Kent.  It  is  the  stars, 

The  stars  above  us,  govern  our  conditions; 
Else  one  self  mate  and  mate  could  not  beget 
Such  different  issues. — You  spoke  not  with  her  since  ? 

Gentleman.  No.  " 

Kent.  Was  this  before  the  king  returned? 

Gentleman.  No,  since. 

Kent.  W^ell,  sir,  the  poor  distressed  Lear  's  i'  the  town; 
Who  sometime  in  his  better  tune  remembers 
Wliat  we  are  come  about,  and  by  no  means 
Will  yield  to  see  his  daughter. 

Gentleman.  Why,  good  sir? 

Kent.  A  sovereign  shame  so  elbows  him;    his  own  un- 
kindness,  ^^ 

That  stripp'd  her  from  his  benediction,  turn'd  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. 

Gentleman.  Alack,  poor  gentleman! 

Kent.  Of  Albany's  and  Cornwall's  powers  you  heard  not? 

Gentleman.  'T  is  so,  they  are  afoot. 

Kent.  Well,  sir,  I'll  bring  you  to  our  master  Lear, 


106 


THE    CEAN"E    CLASSICS 


And  leave  you  to  attend  him.     Some  dear  cause  *" 

Will  in  concealment  wrap  me  up  awhile ; 

AVhen  I  am  known  aright,  you  shall  not  grieve 

Lending  me  this  acquaintance.     I  pray  you,  go 

Along  with  me.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  IV.     The  Same.    A  Tent. 

Enter,  with  drimi  and  colours,  Cordelia,  Doctor,  and 
Soldiers. 

Cordelia.  Alack,  't  is  he!     AVhy,  he  was  met  even  now 
As  mad  as  the  vex'd  sea;   singing  aloud; 
Crown'd  with  rank  fumiter  and  furrow-weeds. 
With  burdocks,  hemlock,  nettles,  cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel,  and  all  the  idle  w^eeds  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.]    Wiat  can 

man's  wisdom 
In  the  restoring  his  bereaved  sense?  *° 

He  that  helps  him  take  all  my  outward  worth. 

Doctor.  There  is  means,  madam. 
Our  foster-nurse  of  nature  is  repose, 
The  w^hich  he  lacks ;   that  to  provoke  ip  him, 
Are  many  simples  operative,  whose  power 
Will  close  the  eye  of  anguish. 

Cordelia.  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  ungovern'd  rage  dissolve  the  life 
That  wants  the  means  to  lead  it. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAE  107 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Messenger.  News,  madam; 

The  British  powers  are  marching  hitherward. 

Cordelia.  'T  is  known  before;    our  preparation  stands 
In  expectation  of  them. — 0  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  aged  father's  right ; 
Soon  may  I  hear  and  see  him!  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V.     Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Regan  and  Oswald. 

Regan.  But  are  my  brother's  powers  set  forth? 

Oswald.  Ay,  madam. 

Regan.  Himself  in  person  there? 

Oswald.  Madam,  with  much  ado ; 

Your  sister  is  the  better  soldier. 

Regan.  Lord  Edmund  spake  not  with  your  lord  at  home? 

Oswald.  No,  madam. 

Regan.  What  might  import  my  sister's  letter  to  him? 

Oswald.  I  know  not,  lady. 

Regan.  Faith,  he  is  posted  hence  on  serious  matter.      ^^ 
It  was  great  ignorance,  Gloster'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'  the  enemy. 

Oswald.  I  must  needs  after  him,  madam,  with  my  letter. 


108  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Regan.  Our  troops  set  forth  to-morrow;    stay  with  us. 
The  ways  are  dangerous. 

Oswald.  I  may  not,  madam;  ^® 

My  lady  charg'd  my  duty  in  this  business. 

Regan.  Why  should  she  write  to  Edmund?     Might  not 
you 
Transport  her  purposes  by  word?     Belike, 
Some  things — I  know  not  what.     I  '11  love  thee  much, — 
Let  me  unseal  the  letter. 

Oswald.  Madam,  I  had  rather — 

Regan.  I  know  your  lady  does  not  love  her  husband, 
I  am  sure  of  that ;  and  at  her  late  being  here 
She  gave  strange  cvillades  and  most  speaking  looks  ^^ 

To  noble  Edmund.     I  know  you  are  of  her  bosom. 

Oswald:  I,  madam? 

Regan.  I  speak  in  understanding;   you  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,  fare  you  well. 

If  you  do  chance  to  hear  of  that  blind  traitor, 
Preferment  falls  on  him  that  cuts  him  off. 

Oswald.  Would  I  could  meet  him,  madam!     I  should 
show 
WTiat  party  I  do  follow. 
Regan.  Fare  thee  well.  [Exeunt. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  109 

Scene  VI.     Fields  near  Dover. 
Enter  Gloster,  and  Edgar  dressed  like  a  peasant. 

Gloster.  When  shall  I  come  to  the  top  of  that  same  hill  ? 

Edgar.  You  do  climb  up  it  now ;   look,  how  we  labour. 

Gloster.  Methinks  the  ground  is  even. 

Edgar.  Horrible  steep. 

Hark,  do  you  hear  the  sea? 

Gloster.  No,  truly. 

Edgar.  Why,  then,  your  other  senses  grow  imperfect 
By  your  eyes'  anguish. 

Gloster.  So  may  it  be  indeed; 

Methinks  thy  voice  is  alter' d,  and  thou  speak'st  ^° 

In  better  phrase  and  matter  than  thou  didst. 

Edgar.  You're  much  deceiv'd;   in  nothing  am  I  chang'd 
But  in  my  garments. 

Gloster.  Methinks  j^ou're  better  spoken. 

^'(ir/ar.  Come  on,  sir;  here's  the  place.    Standstill.    How 
fearful 
And  dizzy  't  is  to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low! 
The  crows  and  choughs  that  wing  the  midway  air 
Show  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles.     Half  way  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  the  unnumber'd  idle  pebble  chafes. 
Cannot  be  heard  so  high.     I  '11  look  no  more. 
Lest  my  brain  turn  and  the  deficient  sight 
Topple  down  headlong. 


110  THE    CKANE    CLASSICS 

Gloster.  Set  me  where  you  stand.  ^" 

Edgar.  Give  me  yom-  hand.     You  are  now  withm  a  foot 
Of  the  extreme  verge.     For  all  beneath  the  moon 
Would  I  not  leap  upright. 

Gloster.  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 !     Go  thou  further  off ; 
Bid  me  farewell,  and  let  me  hear  thee  going. 

Edgar.  Now  fare  ye  well,  good  sir. 

Gloster.  With  all  my  heart. 

Edgar.  [Aside]  Why  I  do  trifle  thus  with  his  despair      ^^ 
Is  done  to  cure  it. 

Gloster.  [Kneeling.]  0  you  mighty  gods! 
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,  0  bless  him! 
Now,  fellow,' fare  thee  well.  ^^ 

Edgar.  Gone,  sir;   farewell. 

[He  falls  forward. 
[Aside]  And  yet  I  know  not  how  conceit  may  rob 
The  treasury  of  life,  when  life  itself 
Yields  to  the  theft.     Had  he  been  Avhere  he  thought. 
By  this  had  thought  been  past.     Alive  or  dead? — 
Ho,  you  sir!   friend!     Hear  you,  sir!   speak! — 
[Aside]   Thus  might  he  pass  indeed ;   yet  he  revives. — 
What  are  you,  sir? 

Gloster.  Away,  and  let  me  die. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAK  111 

Edgar.  Hadst  thou  been  aught  but  gossamer,  feathers, 
air, 
So  many  fathom  down  precipitating. 
Thou  'dst  shiver'd  hke  an  egg;   but  thou  dost  breathe, 
Plast  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  mirac'e.     Speak  yet  again. 

Gloster.  But  have  I  fallen,  or  no? 

Edgar.  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.  ^^ 

Gloster.  Alack,  I  have  no  eyes. 
Is  wretchedness  depriv'd  that  benefit, 
To  end  itself  by  death?     'T  was  yet  some  comfort, 
Wlien  misery  could  beguile  the  tyrant's  rage. 
And  frustrate  his  proud  will. 

Edgar.  Give  me  your  arm. 

Up;    so.     How  is  't?     Feel  your  legs?    You  stand. 

Gloster.  Too  well,  too  well. 

Edgar.  This  is  above  all  strangeness. 

Upon  the  crown  o'  the  cliff,  what  thing  was  that  ^^ 

Which  parted  from  you? 

Gloster.  A  poor  unfortunate  beggar. 

Edgar.  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  enriclged  sea. 
It  was  some  fiend ;   therefore,  thou  happy  father, 
Think  that  the  clearest  gods,  who  make  them  honours 
Of  men's  ?mpossibilities,  have  preserv'd  thee. 

Gloster.  I  do  remember  now.     Henceforth  I'll  bear 
Affliction  till  it  do  cry  out  itself  ^^ 


112  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

^Enough,  enough/  and  die.     That  thing  you  speak  of, 
I  took  it  for  a  man;   often  't  would  say 
^The  fiend,  the  fiend :'   he  led  me  to  that  place. 
Edgar.  Bear  free  and  patient  thoughts. — But  who  comes 
here? 

Enter  Lear,  fantastically  dressed  voith  loild  flowers. 

The  safer  sense  will  ne'er  accommodate 
His  master  thus. 

Lear.  No,  they  cannot  touch  me  for  coining;  I  am  the 
king  himself. 

Edgar.  0  thou  side-piercing  sight!  ^"^ 

Lear.  Nature  's  above  art  in  that  respect. — Tliere  '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. — 0,  well  flown,  bird!  i'  the  clout,  i'  the  clout! 
hewgh! — Give  the  word. 

Edgar.  Sweet  marjoram. 

Lear.  Pass. 

Gloster.  I  know  that  voice.  "^ 

Lear.  Ha!  Goneril, — with  a  white  beard! — They  flat- 
tered 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 
every  thing  that  I  said!  Ay  and  no  too  was  no  good  di- 
vinity. 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 
every  thing;    't  is  a  lie,  I  am  not  ague-proof.  "^ 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAE  113 

Gloster.  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; 
For  Gloster' s  bastard  son 

Was  kinder  to  his  father  than  my  daughters. — 
Give  me  an  ounce  of  civet,  good  apothecary,  to  sweeten  my 
imagination;    there's  money  for  thee.  ^^^ 

Gloster.  0,  let  me  kiss  that  hand! 

Lear.  Let  me  wipe  it  first ;   it  smells  of  mortality. 

Gloster.  0  ruin'd  piece  of  nature!     This  great  world 
Shall  so  wear  out  to  nought.     Dost  thou  know  me? 

Lear.  I  remember  thine  eyes  well  enough.  Dost  thou 
squiny  at  me  ?  No,  do  thy  worst,  blind  Cupid ;  I  '11  not 
love.  Read  thou  this  challenge;  mark  but  the  penning 
of  it. 

Gloster.  Were  all  thy  letters  suns,  I  could  not  see. 

Edgar.  [Aside]  I  would  not  take  this  from  report;  it  is. 
And  my  heart  breaks  at  it.  ^^^ 

Lear.  Read. 

Gloster.  What,  v/ith  the  case  of  eyes? 

Lear.  0,  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. 

Gloster.  I  see  it  feelingly.  ^^® 

Lear.  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; 

—8 


114  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

change  places,  and  handy-dandy,  which  is  the  justice,  which 
is  the  thief?  Thou  hast  seen  a  farmer's  dog  bark  at  a 
beggar? 

Gloster.  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. — 
The  usurer  hangs  the  cozener. 

Through  tatter'd  clothes  great  voices  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  pigmy's  straw  does  pierce  it. 
None  does  offend,  none,  I  say,  none ;  I  '11  able  'em  : 
Take  that  of  me,  my  friend,  who  have  the  power 
To  seal  the  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.  ''' 

Edgar.  [Aside]  0,  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  Gloster. 
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. 

Gloster.  Alack,  alack  the  day! 

Lear.  When  we  are  born,  we  cry  that  w^e  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  '11  put  't  in  proof ; 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  115 

And  when  I  have  stolen  upon  these  sons-in-law, 
Then,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill! 

Enter  a  Gentleman,  vrith  Attendants. 

Gentleman.  0,  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  surgeons; 
I  am  cut  to  the  brains.  ^®® 

Gentleman.  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  water-pots, 
Ay,  and  laying  autumn's  dust. 

Gentleman.  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? 

Gentleman.  You  are  a  royal  one,  and  we  obey  you.     ^°^ 

Lear.  Then  there's  life  in  't.     Come,  an  you  get  it,  you 
shall  get  it  by  running.     Sa,  sa,  sa,  sa. 

[Exit  running;   Attendants  folloio. 

Gentleman.  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. 

Edgar.  Hail,  gentle  sir. 

Gentleman.  Sir,  speed  you ;  what 's  your  will  ? 

Edgar.  Do  you  hear  aught,  sir,  of  a  battle  toward? 

Gentleman.  Most  sure  and  vulgar ;   every  one  hears  that, 
Which  can  distinguish  sound.  ^^^ 


116  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Edgar.  But,   by  your  favour, 

How  near  's  the  other  army? 

Gentleman.  Near  and  on  speedy  foot;   the  main  descry 
Stands  on  the  hourly  thought. 

Edgar.  I  thank  you,  sir;    that's  all. 

Gentleman.  Though  that  the  queen  on  special  cause  is 
here. 
Her  army  is  mov'd  on. 

Edgar.  I  thank  you,  sir.      [Exit  Gentleman. 

Gloster.  You  ever-gentle  gods,  take  my  breath  from  me; 
Let  not  my  worser  spirit  tempt  me  again  ^^^ 

To  die  before  you  please! 

Edgar.  Well  pray  you,  father, 

f"  Gloster.  Now,  good  sir,  what  are  you? 

Edgar.  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. 

Gloster.  Hearty  thanks;  ^^^ 

The  bounty  and  the  benison  of  heaven 
To  boot,  and  boot! 

Enter  Oswald. 

Oswald.  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. 

Gloster.  Now  let  thy  friendly  hand 

Put   strength   enough   to   't.  [Edgar  interposes. 

Oswald.  Wherefore,  bold  peasant. 

Barest  thou  support  a  publish'd  traitor?    Hence!         ^" 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIITG    ILEAR 


117 


Lest  that  the  infection  of  his  fortune  take 
Like  hold  on  thee.     Let  go  his  arm. 

Edgar.  Chill  not  let  go,  zir,  without  vurther  'casion. 

Oswald.  Let  go,  slave,  or  thou  diest! 

Edgar.  Good  gentleman,  go  your  gait,  and  let  poor  volk 
pass.  An  chud  ha'  bin  zwaggered  out  of  my  life,  't  would 
not  ha'  bin  zo  long  as  't  is  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 
Avith  you. 

Oswald.  Out,  dunghill!  [They  fight. 

Edgar.  Chill  pick  your  teeth,  zir.  Come ;  no  matter  vor 
your  foins.  [Oswald  falls. 

Owald.  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  Gloster ;  seek  him  out 
Upon  the  English  party.     0,  untimely  death!  ^^^ 

Death!  [Dies. 

Edgar.  I  know  thee  well;    a  serviceable  villain. 
As  duteous  to  the  vices  of  thy  mistress 
As  badness  would  desire. 

Gloster.  What,  is  he  dead? 

Edgar.  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 : 
Leave,  gentle  wax;   and,  manners,  blame  us  not.  ^^^^ 

To  know  our  enemies'  minds,  we  'd  rip  their  hearts ; 
Their  papers,  is  more  lawful. 

[Reads]  'Let  our  reciprocal  vows  he  remembered.     You 


118  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

have  many  opportunities  to  cut  him  off;  if  your  will  want  not, 
%me  and  place  will  he  fruitfully  offered.  There  is  nothing 
done,  if  he  return  the  conqueror:  then  am  I  the  prisoner,  and 
his  bed  my  goal;  from  the  loathed  warmth  whereof  deliver  me, 
and  supply  the  place  for  your  labour. 

^Your — wife,  so  I  would  say — affectionate  servant, 

'GONERIL.' 

0  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  '11  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  't  is  well 

That  of  thy  death  and  business  I  can  tell. 

Gloster.  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'cl  from  my  griefs, 
And  woes  by  wrong  imaginations  lose 
The  knowledge  of  themselves.  [Drum  afar  off. 

Edgar.  Give  me  your  hand; 

Far  off,  methinks,  I  hear  the  beaten  drum. 
Come,  father,  I  '11  bestow  you  with  a  friend.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  VH.     A  Tent  in  the  French  Camp.    Lear  on  a  bed 

asleep,  soft  music  playing;    Gentleman  and  others  attending. 

Enter  Cordelia,  Kent,  and  Doctor. 

Cordelia.  0  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'er-paid. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  119 

All  my  reports  go  with  the  modest  truth, 
Nor  more  nor  clipp'd,  but  so. 

Cordelia.  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. 

Cordelia.  Then  be  't  so,  my  good  lord. — How  does  the 
king? 

Doctor.  Madam,  sleeps  still. 

Cordelia.  0  you  kind  gods. 
Cure  this  great  breach  in  his  abusM  nature! 
The  untun'd  and  jarring  senses,  0,  wind  up 
Of  this  child-changed  father!  ^^ 

Doctor.  So  please  your  majesty 

That  we  may  wake  the  king?   he  hath  slept  long. 

Cordelia.  Be  govern 'd  by  your  knowledge,  and  proceed 
r  the  sway  of  your  own  will. — Is  he  array 'd? 

Gentleman.  Ay,  madam;  in  the  heaviness  of  sleep 
We  put  fresh  garments  on  him. 

Doctor.  Be  by,  good  madam,  when  we  do  awake  him ; 
I  doubt  not  of  his  temperance. 

Cordelia.  Very  well. 

Doctor.  Please  you,  draw  near. — Louder  the  music  there! 

Cordelia.  0  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! 

Cordelia.  Had  you  not  been  their  father,  these  white 
flakes 


120  THE    CEAN^E    CLASSICS 

Did  challenge  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! 

'T  is  wonder  that  thy  life  and  wits  at  once 

Had  not  concluded  all. — He  wakes;   speak  to  him. 

Doctor.  Madam,  do  you;    't  is  fittest.  ^^ 

Cordelia.  How  does  my  royal  lord?     How  fares  your 
majesty? 

Lear.  You  do  me  wrong  to  take  me  out  o'  the  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. 

Cordelia.  Sir,  do  you  know  me? 

Lear.  You  are  a  spirit,  I  know;   when  did  you  die? 

Cordelia.  Still,  still,  far  wide! 

Doctor.  He 's  scarce  awake ;   let  him  alone  awhile.  ^" 

Lear.  AVhere  have  I  been?    Where  am  I?     Fair  day- 
light? 
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! 

Cordelia.  0,  look  upon  me,  sir, 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  121 

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  foohsh  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. 

Cordelia.  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. 

Cordelia.  No  cause,  no  cause. 

Lear.  Am  I  in  France?  ^^ 

Kent.  In  your  own  kingdom,  sir. 

Lear.  Do  not  abuse  me. 

Doctor.  Be  comforted,  good  madam:    the  great  rage. 
You  see,  is  kill'd  in  him;   and  yet  't  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. 

Cordelia.  Will  't  please  your  highness  walk? 

Lear.  You  must  bear  with  me.     Pray  you  now,  forget 

and  forgive;   I  am  old  and  foolish.  ^^" 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Kent  and  Gentleman. 


122  THE    CRAN"E    CLASSICS 

Gentleman.  Holds  it  true,  sir,  that  the  Duke  of  Cornwall 
was  so  slain? 

Kent.  Most  certain,  sir. 

Gentleman.  Who  is  the  conductor  of  his  people? 

Kent.  As  't  is  said,  the  bastard  son  of  Gloster. 

Gentleman.  They  say  Edgar,  his  banished  son,  is  with  the 
Earl  of  Kent  in  Germany. 

Kent.  Report  is  changeable.  'T  is  time  to  look  about; 
the  powers  of  the  kingdom  approach  apace.  ^^^ 

Gentleman.  The  arbitrement  is  like  to  be  bloody.  Fare 
you  w^ell,  sir.  [Exit. 

Kent.  My  point  and  period  will  be  thoroughly  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,  Gentlemen, 
and  Soldiers. 

Edmund.  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. 

[To  a  Gentleman,  ivho  goes  out. 

Regan.  Our  sister's  man  is  certainly  miscarried. 

Edmund.  'T  is  to  be  doubted,  madam. 

Regan.  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?  ^^ 

Edmund.  In  honour'd  love. 

Regan.  But  have  you  never  found  my  brother's  way 
To  the  forf ended  place? 

Edmund.  That  thought  abuses  you. 

Regan.  I  am  doubtful  that  you  have  been  conjunct 
And  bosom' d  with  her,  as  far  as  we  call  hers. 

Edmund.  No,  by  mine  honour,  madam. 

Regan.  I  never  shall  endure  her.     Dear  my  lord. 
Be  not  familiar  with  her. 

Edmund.  Fear  me  not. —  ^^ 

She  and  the  duke  her  husband! 

(123) 


124  THE    CRATTE    CLASSICS 

Enter  with  drum,  and  colours,  Albany,  Goneril,  and 
Soldiers. 

Goneril.  [Aside]  I  had  rather  lose  the  battle  than  that 
sister 
Should  loosen  him  and  me. 

Albany.  Our  very  loving  sister,  well  be-met. — 
Sir,  this  I  hear :   the  king  is  come  to  his  daughter, 
With  others  whom  the  rigour  of  our  state 
Forc'd  to  cry  out.     A\niere  I  could  not  be  honest, 
I  never  yet  was  valiant ;   for  this  business, 
It  toucheth  us,  as  France  invades  our  land,  ^° 

Not  holds  the  king,  with  others,  whom,  I  fear, 
Most  just  and  heavy  causes  make  oppose. 

Edmund.  Sir,  you  speak  nobly. 

Regan.  Why  is  this  reason'd? 

Goneril.  Combine  together  'gainst  the  enemy; 
For  these  domestic  and  particular  broils 
Are  not  the  question  here. 

Albany.  Let  's  then  determine 

With  the  ancient  of  war  on  our  proceeding. 

Edmund.  I  shall  attend  you  presently  at  your  tent.      ^^ 

Regan.  Sister,  you  '11  go  with  us? 

Goneril.  No. 

Regan.  'T  is  most  convenient;    pray  you,  go  w^ith  us. 

Goneril.  [Aside]  0,  ho,  I  know  the  riddle! — I   will  go. 

As  they  are  going  out,  enter  Edgar  disguised. 

Edgar.  If  e'er  your  grace  had  speech  with  man  so  poor, 
Hear  me  one  word. 
Albany.  I'll  overtake  you. — Speak. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Albany  and  Edgar. 
Edgar.  Before  you  fight  the  battle,  ope  this  letter. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  125 

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! 

Albany.  Stay  till  I  have  read  the  letter. 

Edgar.  I  was  forbid  it. 

When  time  shall  serve,  let  but  the  herald  cry, 
And  I  '11  appear  again. 

Albany.  Why,  fare  thee  well ;   I  will  o'erlook  thy  paper. 

[Exit  Edgar. 
Re-enter  Edmund. 

Edmund.  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. 

Albany.  We  will  greet  the  time.  [Exit. 

Edmund.  To  both  these  sister  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. 


126  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

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,  Lear,  Cor- 
delia, and  Soldiers,  over  the  stage;  and  exeunt. 

Enter  Edgar  and  Gloster. 

Edgar.  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. 

Gloster.  Grace  go  with  you,  sir! 

[Exit  Edgar. 

Alarum  and  retreat  ivithin.    Re-enter  Edgar. 

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. 

Gloster.  No  further,  sir;   a  man  may  rot  even  here. 

Edgar.  What,  in  ill  thoughts  again?     Men  must  endure 
Their  going  hence,  even  as  their  coming  hither :  ^^ 

Ripeness  is  all.     Come  on. 

Gloster.  And  that 's  true  too.     [Exeimt. 

Scene  III.     The  British  Camp  near  Dover. 

Enter,  in  conquest,  with  drum  and  colours,  Edmund;   Lear 
and  Cordelia,  prisoners;  Captain,  Soldiers,  etc. 

Edmund.  Some  officers  take  them  away;   good  guard, 
Until  their  greater  pleasures  first  be  known 
That  are  to  censure  them. 

Cordelia.  We  are  not  the  first 


TEAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  127 

WTio,  with  best  meaning,  have  incurr'cl  the  worst. 
For  thee,  oppressed  king,  I  am  cast  down; 
Myself  could  else  out-frown  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'  the  cage.  ^^ 

When  thou  dost  ask  me  blessing,  I'll  kneel  down, 
And  ask  of  thee  forgiveness.     So  we  '11  live. 
And  pray,  and  sing,  and  tell  old  tales,  and  laugh 
At  gilded  butterflies,  and  hear  poor  rogues 
Talk  of  court  news ;   and  we  '11  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  '11  wear  out. 
In  a  wall'd  prison,  packs  and  sects  of  great  ones 
That  ebb  and  flow  by  the  moon.  ^^ 

Edmund.  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  good-years  shall  devour  them,  flesh  and  fell. 
Ere  they  shall  make  us  weep :  we'll  see  'em  starv'd  first. 
Come.  [Exeunt  Lear  and  Cordelia,  guarded. 

Edmund.  Come  hither,  captain;    hark. 
Take  thou  this  note  [giving  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 


128  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Will  not  bear  question ;   either  say  thou  'It  do  't, 
Or  thrive  by  other  means. 

Captain.  I'll  do  't,  my  lord. 

Edmund.  About  it;    and  write  happy  when   thou  hast 
done.  ^^ 

Mark, — I  sa}^,  instantly,  and  carry  it  so 
As  I  have  set  it  down. 

Captain.  I  cannot  draw  a  cart,  nor  eat  dried  oats; 
If  't  be  man's  work,  I  '11  do  't.  [Exit. 

Flourish.    Enter  Albany,  Goneril,  Regan,  another  Cap- 
tain, and  Soldiers. 

Albany.  Sir,  you  have  show'd  to-day  your  valiant  strain. 
And  fortune  led  you  well ;  you  have  the  captives 
That  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. 

Edmund.  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  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,  to  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. 


I 


i 


TRAGEDY    OF    KII^G    LEAR  129 

The  question  of  Cordelia  and  her  father 
Requires  a  fitter  place. 

Albany.  Sir,  by  your  patience, 

I  hold  you  but  a  subject  of  this  war, 
Not  as  a  brother. 

Regan.  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. 

Goneril.  Not  so  hot; 

In  his  own  grace  he  doth  exalt  himself 
More  than  in  your  addition. 

Regan.  In  my  rights. 

By  me  invested,  he  compeers  the  best.  .  ^^ 

Albany.  That  were  the  most,  if  he  should  husband  you. 

Regan.  Jesters  do  oft  prove  prophets. 

Goneril.  Holla,  holla! 

That  eye  that  told  you  so  look'd  but  a-squint. 

Regan.  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. 

Goneril.  Mean  you  to  enjoy  him? 

Albany.  The  let-alone  lies  not  in  your  good-will. 

Edmund.  Nor  in  thine,  lord. 

Albany.  Half-blooded  fellow,  yes. 

Regan.  [TolEdmund.]  Let  the  drum  strike,  and  prove 
my  title  thine. 

—9~ 


130  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

Albany.  Stay  yet;  hear  reason. — Edmund,  I  arrest  thee 
On  capital  treason;   and,  in  thy  arrest, 
This  gilded  serpent  [pointing  to  Goneril]. — For  your  claim, 
fair  sister,  ^^^ 

I  bar  it  in  the  interest  of  my  wife ; 
'T  is  she  is  sub-contracted  to  this  lord, 
And  I,  her  husband,  contradict  your  bans. 
If  you  will  marry,  make  your  loves  to  me ; 
My  lady  is  bespoke. 

Goneril.  An  interlude! 

Albany.  Thou  art  arm' d,  Gloster;  let  the  trumpet  sound. 
If  none  appear  to  prove  upon  thy  person 
Thy  heinous,  manifest,  and  many  treasons,  "^^ 

There  is  my  pledge  [throwing  dovm  a  glove].     I  '11  prove  it 

on  thy  heart. 
Ere  I  taste  bread,  thou  art  in  nothing  less 
Than  I  have  here  proclaim' d  thee. 

Regan.  Sick,  0,  sick! 

Goneril.  [Aside]  If  not,  I'll  ne'er  trust  medicine. 

Edmund.   [Throwing  down  a  glove.  ]  There 's  my  exchange. 
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. 

Albany.  A  herald,  ho! 

Edmund,  A  herald,  ho,  a  herald! 

Albany.  Trust  to  thy  single  virtue;    for  thy  soldiers, 
All  levied  in  thy  name,  have  in  my  name 
Took  their  discharge. 

Regan.  My  sickness  grows  upon  me. 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  131 

Albany.  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. 

Captain.  Sound,  trumpet!  [A  trumpet  sounds. 

Herald.  [Reads]  'If  any  man  of  quality  or  degree  within 
the  lists  of  the  army  ivill  maintain  upon  Edmund,  supposed 
Earl  of  Gloster,  that  he  is  a  manifold  traitor,  let  him  appear 
hy  the  third  sound  of  the  trumpet;  he  is  hold  in  his  defence.^ 

Edmund.  Sound!  [First  trumpet. 

Herald.  Again!  [Second  trumpet. 

Herald.  Again!  [Third  trumpet. 

[Trumpet  answers  within. 

Enter  Edgar,  at  the  third  sound,  armed,  with  a  trumpet 
before  him. 

Albany.  Ask  him  his  purposes,  why  he  appears  ^^^ 

Upon  this  call  o'  the  trumpet. 

Herald.  What  are  you? 

Your  name,  your  quality  ?    and  why  you  answer 
This  present  summons? 

Edgar.  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. 

Albany.  Wliich  is  that  adversary? 

Edgar.  What 's  he  that  speaks  for  Edmund  Earl  of  Glos- 
ter? 1^^ 

Edmund.  Himself;    what  say'st  thou  to  him? 

Edgar.  Draw  thy  sword. 


132  THE    CEANE    CLASSICS 

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,  place,  youth,  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  the  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. 

Edmund.  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  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, 
^^Tiere  they  shall  rest  for  ever. — Trumpets,  speak! 

[Alarums.     They  fight.    Edmund  falls. 

Albany.  Save  him,  save  him! 

Goneril.  This  is  practice,  Gloster; 

By  the  law  of  arms  thou  wast  not  bomid  to  answer  ^^^ 

An  unknown  opposite :   thou  art  not  vanquish'd, 
But  cozen'd  and  beguil'd. 

Albany.  Shut  your  mouth,  dame, 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR 


133 


Or  with  this  paper  shall  I  stop  it. — Hold,  sir ; 
Thou  worse  than  any  name,  read  thine  own  evil. — 
No  tearing,  lady ;   I  perceive  you  know^  it. 

[Gives  the  letter  to  Edmund. 

Goneril.  Say,  if  I  do,  the  laws  are  mine,  not  thine. 
Who  can  arraign  me  for  't?  [Exit. 

Albany.  Most  monstrous!    oh! —        ^^" 

Know'st  thou  this  paper? 

Edmund.  Ask  me  not  what  I  know. 

Albany.  Go  after  her:   she's  desperate;   govern  her. 

Edmund.  What  you  have  charg'd  me  with,  that  have  I 
done; 
And  more,  much  more :   the  time  will  bring  it  out. 
'T  is  past,  and  so  am  I. — But  what  art  thou 
That  hast  this  fortune  on  me?     If  thou  'rt  noble, 
I  do  forgive  thee. 

Edgar.  Let's  exchange  charity.  ^^^ 

I  am  no  less  in  blood  than  thou  art,  Edmund; 
If  more,  the  more  thou  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  plague  us. 
The  dark  and  vicious  place  where  thee  he  got 
Cost  him  his  eyes. 

Edmund.  Thou  hast  spoken  right,  't  is  true : 

The  wheel  is  come  full  circle ;   I  am  here. 

Albany.  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! 

Edgar.  Worthy  prince,  I  know  't. 


134 


THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 


Albany.  Where  have  you  hid  yourself? 
How  have  you  known  the  miseries  of  your  father? 

Edgar.  By  nursing  them,  my  lord.     List  a  brief  tale 
And  when  't  is  told,  0  that  my  heart  would  burst! 
The  bloody  proclamation  to  escape, 
That  followed  me  so  near, — 0,  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,  to  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, — 0  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. 

Edmund.  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. 

Albany.  If  there  be  more,  more  woful,  hold  it  in; 
For  I  am  almost  ready  to  dissolve. 
Hearing  of  this. 

Edgar.  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  in  a  man, 


TRAGEDY    OF    KIISTG    LEAR  135 

Who,  having  seen  me  in  my  worst  estate, 

Shunn'd  my  abhorr'd  society;   but  then,  finding 

Wlio  't  was  that  so  endur'd,  with  his  strong  arms 

He  fastened  on  my  neck,  and  bellow'd  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  tranc'd. 

Albany.  But  who  was  this? 

Edgar.  Kent,  sir,  the  banish'd  Kent;   who  in  disguise 
Follow' d  his  enemy  king,  and  did  him  service 
Improper  for  a  slave.  ^^^ 

Enter  a  Gentleman  mth  a  bloody  knife. 

Gentleman.  Help,  help,  0,  help! 

Edgar.  Wliat  kind  of  help? 

Albany.  Speak,  man. 

Edgar.  What  means  that  bloody  knife? 

Gentleman.  'T  is  hot,  it  smokes ! 

It  came  even  from  the  heart  of — 0,  she  's  dead! 

Albany.  Who  dead?   speak,  man. 

Gentleman.  Your  lady,  sir,  your  lady!    and  her  sister 
By  her  is  poison'd;   she  confesses  it. 

Edmund.  I  was  contracted  to  them  both;  all  three 
Now  marry  in  an  instant.  ^^^ 

Edgar.  Here  comes  Kent. 

Albany.  Produce  the  bodies,  be  they  alive  or  dead. 
This  judgment  of  the  heavens,  that  makes  us  tremble. 
Touches  us  not  with  pity. —  [Exit  Gentleman. 


136  THE    CEAlvrE    CLASSICS 


Enter  Kent. 


0,  is  this  he? 
The  time  will  not  allow  the  compliment 
Which  very  manners  urges. 

Kent.  I  am  come 

To  bid  my  king  and  master  aye  good  night.  ^^^ 

Is  he  not  here? 

Albany.  Great  thing  of  us  forgot! 

Speak,  Edmund,  where 's  the  king?    and  where 's  Corde- 
lia?— 
See'st  thou  this  object,  Kent? 

[The  bodies  of  Goneril  and  Regan  are  brought  in. 

Kent.  Alack,  why  thus? 

Edmund.  Yet  Edmund  was  belov'd. 

The  one  the  other  poison' d  for  my  sake. 
And  after  slew  herself. 

Albany.  Even  so. — Cover  their  faces.  ^^^ 

Edmund.  I  pant  for  life ;   some  good  I  mean  to  do, 
Despite  of  mine  own  nature. — Quickly  send. 
Be  brief  in  it,  to  the  castle !  for  my  writ 
Is  on  the  life  of  Lear  and  on  Cordelia. 
Nay,  send  in  time! 

Albany.  Run,  run,  0,  run! 

Edgar.  To  who,  my  lord? — Wlio  has  the  office?   send 
Thy  token  of  reprieve. 

Edmund.  Well  thought  on;    take  my  sword. 
Give  it  the  captain.  ^^^ 

Albany.  Haste  thee,  for  thy  life! 

[Exit  Edgar. 

Edmund.  He  hath  commission  from  thy  wife  and  me 
To  hang  Cordelia  in  the  prison,  and 


TRAGEDY    OF    KING    LEAR  137 

To  lay  the  blame  upon  her  own  despair, 
That  she  fordid  herself. 

Albany.  The  gods  defend  her! — Bear  him  hence  awhile. 

[Edmund  is  home  off. 

Re-enter  Lear,  with  Cordelia  dead  in  his  arms;  Edgar, 
Captain,  and  others  following. 

Lear.  Howl,   howl,   howl,   howl!    0,   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  for  ever! 
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. 

Kent.  Is  this  the  promis'd  end? 

Edgar.  Or  image  of  that  horror? 

Albany.  Fall  and  cease! 

Lear.  This  feather  stirs!   she  lives!   if  it  be  so. 
It  is  a  chance  which  does  redeem  all  sorrows 
That  ever  I  have  felt.  ^'' 

Kent.  0  my  good  master! 

Lear.  Prithee,  away! 

Edgar.  'T  is  noble  Kent,  your  friend. 

Lear.  A  plague  upon  you,  murtherers,  traitors  all ! 
I  might  have  sav'd  her!  now  she  's  gone  for  ever! — 
Cordelia,  Cordelia!    stay  a  little.     Ha!  . 
What  is  't  thou  say'st? — Her  voice  was  ever  soft, 
Gentle  and  low,  an  excellent  thing  in  woman. — 
I  kill'd  the  slave  that  was  a-hanging  thee. 

Captain.  'T  is  true,  my  lords,  he  did.  ^^^ 

Lear.  Did  I  not,  fellow? 


138  THE    CEAIN^E    CLASSICS 

I  have  seen  the  day,  with  my  good  biting  falchion 
I  would  have  made  them  skip.     I  am  old  now, 
And  these  same  crosses  spoil  me. — Who  are  you? 
Mine  eyes  are  not  o'  the  best ;   I  '11  tell  you  straight. 

Kent.  If  fortime  brag  of  two  she  lov'd  and  hated, 
One  of  them  ye  behold. 

Lear.  This  is  a  dull  sight. — Are  you  not  Kent? 

Kent.  The  same. 

Your  servant  Kent.     Where  is  your  servant  Caius?        ^^" 

Lear.  He 's  a  good  fellow,  I  can  tell  you  that ; 
He'll  strike,  and  quickly  too.     He  's  dead  and  rotten. 

Kent.  No,  my  good  lord ;   I  am  the  very  man — 

Lear.  I'll  see  that  straight. 

Kent.  That  from  your  first  of  difference  and  decay 
Have  follow'd  your  sad  steps — 

Lear.  You  are  welcome  hither- 

Kent.  Nor  no  man  else;  all  's  cheerless,  dark,  and  deadly. 
Your  eldest  daughters  have  fordone  themselves. 
And  desperately  are  dead.  ^^® 

Lear.  Ay,  so  I  think. 

Albany.  He  knows  not  what  he  says,  and  vain  it  is 
That  we  present  us  to  him. 

Edgar.  Very  bootless. 

Enter  a  Captain. 

Captain.  Edmmid  is  dead,  my  lord. 

Albany.  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,  ^®° 


TEAGEDY    OF    KlING    LEAR 


139 


To  him  our  absolute  power; — [To  Edgar  and  Kent]  you,  to 

your  rights, 
With  boot,  and  such  addition  as  your  honours 
Have  more  than  merited.     All  friends  shall  taste 
The  wages  of  their  virtue,  and  all  foes 
The  cup  of  their  deservings. — 0,  see,  see! 

Lear.  And  my  poor  fool  is  hang'd!     No,  no,  no  life! 
Why  should  a  dog,  a  horse,  a  rat,  have  life, 
And  thou  no  breath  at  all  ?    Thou  'It  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!  [Dies- 

Edgar.  He  faints! — My  lord,  my  lord! 

Kent.  Break,  heart;    I  prithee,  break! 

Edgar.  Look  up,  my  lord. 

Kent.  Vex  not  his  ghost.     0,  let  him  pass!  he  hates  him 
That  would  upon  the  rack  of  this  tough  world 
Stretch  him  out  longer. 

Edgar.  He  is  gone,  indeed.  ^^" 

Kent.  The  wonder  is  he  hath  endur'd  so  long; 
He  but  usurp 'd  his  life. 

Albany.  Bear  them  from  hence. — Our  present  business 
Is  general  woe. — [To  Kent  and  Edgar]  Friends  of  my  soul, 

you  twain 
Rule  in  this  realm,  and  the  gor'd  state  sustain. 

Kent.  I  have  a  journey,  sir,  shortly  to  go; 
My  master  calls  me,  I  must  not  say  no. 

Albany.  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. 

[Exeunt,  with  a  dead  march. 


ISrOTES 
TO  TEAGEDT  OF  KING  LEAE. 


ITOTES. 

Act  I. 

'  Scene  I. 
Enter   .    .    .    Gloster.     The  first  editions  read  "Gloucester,"  but 
tlie  first  quarto  and  the  most  of  the  modern  editions  have  "Gloster.'^ 

1.  Had  more  affected.     Had  been  more  partial  to.     =hked. 

2.  Albany.  According  to  HoHnshed,  Albany  is  derived  from-c4Z- 
bania,  the  region  north  of  the  Humber.  The  name  was  first  given 
to  the  whole  island  by  the  Celts.  Later  it  was  restricted  to  the 
Scotch  country,  and  then  to  the  northern  English  province.  The 
root  alb  or  alp  means  a  height. 

5-6.  Curiosity  .  .  .  moiety.  The  nicest  distinction  is  not  made 
between  theih.     Moiety = fraction  other  than  one-half. 

10.  Brazed.     Grown  brazen  by  habit.     (See  Hamlet,  III,  4-37.) 

12.  Proper.     Fair,  comely. 

13.  Some  year.     Same  use  as  some  minute,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet. 
15.  Something = somewhat.     So  written  in  some  editions. 

25.  Out.  ^Abroad.  There  was  no  opportunity  for  him  to  attain 
success  at  home,  owing  to  his  illegitimate  birth. 

26.  Sennet.     A  succession  of  notes  on  cornet  or  trumpet. 
29.  Darker  purpose.     Our  hitherto  secret  plans. 

31.  In  three.     We  still  use  ''cut  in  two." 

Fast.     Unalterable. 
34.  Cornwall.     The  southwest  portion  of  England. 
38.  France  and  Burgundy.     The  Chronicle  puts  Lear  in  the  time  of 
Joash,  King  of  Judah.     The  poet  puts  him  in  the  time  after  Charle- 
magne, when  Burgundy  was  a  nation  in  itself. 

43.  Both.  Shakespeare  frequently  used  the  term  with  more  than 
two  nouns. 

47.  Where  nature,  etc.     "Where  your  natural  affection  deservedly 
claims  its  due." — Crosby. 
49.  Wield.     Express. 

51.  Eyesight,  space,  and  liberty.  The  power  to  see,  the  world  to  be 
seen,  and  the  freedom  to  enjoy. 

60.  Shadowy.     The  folio   reads,   "shady."     Notice  the  beautiful 
landscape  pictured  in  lines  60-61. 
Champaigns— plains. 
Rich'd= enriched. 

(143) 


144  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

65.  *SeZ/= selfsame. 

66.  Prize  me=prize  or  value  myself. 

70.  Square  of  sense.     Rolfe  says: 

"Which  the  most  precious  square  of  sense  professes.  The  folio 
reading;  the  quartos  have  'possesses.'  The  choice  between  the  two 
depends  on  the  meaning  of  square  of  sense,  which  is  not  easy  to  make 
out.  Warburton  thought  it  referred  to  'the  four  nobler  senses,  sight, 
hearing,  taste,  and  smell.'  Johnson  says:  'Perhaps  square  means 
only  compass,  comprehension.'  Edwards  makes  it  'the  full  comple- 
ment of  all  the  senses;'  Moberly,  'the  choicest  estimate  of  sense;' 
Wright,  'the  most  delicately  sensitive  part  of  my  nature.'  Schmidt, 
in  his  Lexicon,  makes  square  =  ' rule,  regularity,  just  proportion,'  if 
we  read  professes  (as  he  does  in  his  edition  of  the  play),  and  para- 
phrases the  line  thus :  '  which  the  soundest  sense  acknowledges  as  Joys.' 
If  we  read  possesses,  he  would  make  square = '  compass,  range  ( ?) .  The 
objection  to  all  these  interpretations  is  that  they  do  not  so  much  find 
a  meaning  in  square  as  force  one  upon  it.  If  Shakespeare  wrote  the 
word,  it  must  have  one  of  these  meanings — rule,  estimate,  compass, 
or  range;  but  we  suspect  some  corruption.  The  Collier  MS.  has 
'sphere,'  and  Singer  reads  'spacious  sphere;'  but  the  emendations 
are  not  to  our  mind.  For  a  fuller  discussion  of  the  enigma  we  must 
refer  the  reader  to  Furness,  who  has  a  full  page  of  fine  print  upon  it. 
He,  by  the  way,  reads  professes,  and  remarks:  'Whatever  meaning 
or  no-meaning  we  may  attach  to  square  of  sense,  it  seems  clear  to  me 
that  Regan  refers  to  the  joys  which  that  square  professes  to  bestow.'" 

71.  Felicitate.     Made  happy.     Used  nowhere  else. 

75.  More  ponderous.     Also  written  ''more  richer." 

76.  Validity =Ya}vie. 

79.  Our  joy.  Note  Lear  addresses  Goneril  as  "Our  eldest-born;" 
Regan  as,  "Our  dearest  Regan;"  and  Cordelia  as,  "Our  joy." 

80.  Our  last  and  least.  Cordelia  was  evidently  small  of  stature. 
Lear  carried  her  dead  body  in  his  arms  although  he  was  then  over 
fourscore. 

81.  Vines  of  France,  and  Milk  of  Burgundy.  The  vineyards  of 
France  and  the  pastures  of  Burgundy. 

84.  Nothing,  my  lord.  Cordelia's  intense  devotion  to  truth  makes 
her  imnecessarily  blunt  of  speech.     Coleridge  says  of  this  line : 

"  There  is  something  of  disgust  at  the  ruthless  hypocrisy  of  her  sis- 
ters, and  some  little  faulty  admixture  of  pride  and  sullenness  in  Cor- 
delia's 'Nothing;'  and  her  tone  is  well  contrived,  indeed,  to  lessen 
the  glaring  absurdity  of  Lear's  conduct,  but  answers  the  yet  more 
important  purpose  of  forcing  away  the  attention  from  the  nursery- 
tale  the  moment  it  has  served  its  end,  that  of  supplying  the  canvas 
for  the  picture.  This  is  also  materially  furthered  by  Kent's  opposi- 
tion, which  displays  Lear's  moral  mcapability  of  resigning  the  sov- 
ereign power  in  the  very  act  of  disposing  of  it.  Kent  is,  perhaps, 
the  nearest  to  perfect  goodness  in  all  Shakespeare's  characters,  and 


N"OTES  145 

yet  the  most  individualized.  There  is  an  extraordinary  charm  in  his 
bluntness,  which  is  that  only  of  a  nobleman,  arising  from  a  contempt 
of  overstrained  courtesy,  and  combined  with  easy  placability  where 
goodness  of  heart  is  apparent.  His  passionate  affection  for,  and 
fidelity  to,  Lear  act  on  our  feelings  in  Lear's  own  favor;  virtue  seems 
to  be  in  company  with  him." 

90.  According  to  my  bond.  That  is,  as  a  daughter  should  love  her 
father. 

92.  Mar.     The  opposite  of  ''mendJ' 

98.  Love  you  all.     With  all  their  love. 

99.  Plight.     Pledge. 

108-111.  For,  by  .  .  .  be.  Lear's  spiritual  belief  is  here  told. 
He  holds  to  the  power  of  astrology  over  human  destiny. 

109.  Hecate.  An  ancient  Thracian  goddess  with  the  power  to 
bestow  wealth  and  happiness.  She  is  also  accredited  with  being  a 
deity  of  the  infernal  regions,  able  to  send  out  all  evils  upon  those 
who  fell  under  her  curse. 

116.  Makes  his  generation  messes.     Who  eats  his  own  children. 

122.  Wrath.     Metonymy.     The  object  of  wrath  is  meant. 

126.  Who  stirs?  A  disputed  expression.  One  interpretation  is, 
that  it  is  a  threat  to  silence  those  present  who  would  resent  this 
harshness;  another,  that  the  courtiers  seemed  unwilling  to  obey  this 
command;  a  third,  that  all  are  so  horror-stricken  at  Lear's  outburst 
of  rage  they  forget  to  move. 

135-6.  Only  we  .  .  .  king.  The  kingly  honor.  The  empty  sound 
of  being  called  a  king.  The  burden  and  responsibility  of  ruling 
is  laid  aside. 

144.  Make  from.     Go  from;   get  away  from. 

145.  The  fork.     The  barbed-arrow  head. 

147.  What  would'st  thou  do  f  Lear  evidently  puts  his  hand  to  his 
sword. 

Kent's  plea  throughout  is  not  for  a  softening  of  Lear's  harshness 
toward  Cordelia,  but  for  Lear  to  keep  his  kingship  entire. 

157-159.  My  life  .  .  .  motive.  The  very  essence  of  loyalty  is 
here  expressed. 

163.  Blank.  The  white  center  of  the  target.  "  Keep  your  eye  on 
me,"  he  says  in  effect. 

164.  By  Apollo.     Leai's  gods  are  here  revealed  again. 

173.  Recreant.  What  is  the  distinction  between  this  term  and 
"miscreant,''  line  154? 

181.  Diseases.     Discomforts. 

187.  ;Sii^=since. 
—10 


146  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

189.   Take  thee:    i.  e.,  Cordelia. 
191.   Your  large  speeches.     To  Goneril  and  Reagan. 
207.  Little = seeming.     Another  reference  to  her  small  stature. 
209.  1/1/06= please. 
212.  Owes=owns. 

217.  Makes  not  up.     Reaches  no  decision. 

223.  Avert.     Turn  away.     The  only  instance  of  Shakespeare's  use 
of  this  word. 

228.  Argument.     Subject  of  j^our  thought  and  conversation. 

229.  In  this  trice.     We  still  use  ''In  a  trice." 
233.  M ousters =Tn?ikes  monstrous. 

238.  //  for  I  want="  Because  I  want." 

244.  But  even  for  want,  etc.     The  construction  is  faulty. 

245.  Still-soliciting = ever  begging. 

247.  Hath  lost  me;   i.  e.,  caused  me  to  lose. 

254.  Regards.     Considerations. 

255.  Entire  point.     Main  point. 

256.  She  is  herself  a  dowry.     A  fine  compliment. 

275.  Waterish.     A  term  of  contempt. 

276.  Unpriz'd=not  prized  bj'-  others. 
278.  Here  and  u'/iere= nouns  in  their  use. 
291.  Pre/er= commend. 

296.  Fortune's  alms.     Fortune's  alms-giving. 

297.  Well  are  worth  the  want  that  you  have  wanted.     "The  want  that 
you  have  brought  upon  yourself." — Rolfe. 

298.  Plighted.     Folded. 
310.  Grossly.     Evident. 
315.  /ng'ra^ec?=ingrafted. 
318.  Unconstant  =  capricious. 
321.  Hit.     Agree. 

323.  Offend.     Injure. 

325.  /'  the  heat.     While  the  iron  is  hot.     Note  that  the  sister's 
condemn  Lear  in  the  case  of  Cordelia  and  of  Kent. 

Scene  II. 

] .   Thou  nature.     Edmund's  religion  is  here  shown. 

3.  Stand  in  the  plague  of  custom.     The  curse  of  his  illegitimacy  was 
the  "plague  of  custom." 

4.  Curiosity.     Exacting  nicety.     Compare  with  note  on  I,  5-6. 
Deprive.     Disinherit. 

5.  Moonshines.     Months. 


NOTES  147 

6.  Lag  of.     Later  than. 

7.  Compact.     Well  built. 

19.  SubscriVd.     Surrendered.  ^ 

20.  Exhibition.     Mere  allowance. 

21.  Upon  the  gad.     In  a  moment's  time. 
36.  Are  to  blame.     Are  blamable. 

39.  Essay.     Test. 

40.  Policy.     Established  order. 

41.  Best  of  our  times.     The  best  part  of  our  lives. 

54.  Closet.     Bedroom. 

55.  Character.  Handwriting.  Shakespeare  with  only  one  or  two 
exceptions  used  the  word  in  this  sense.  See  Hamlet  IV,  7-53 :  ''  And 
these  few  precepts  in  thy  memory  see  thou  character." 

65.  Perfect  age.     Majority. 

69.  Detested.     Detestable. 

75.   ir/iere= whereas. 

89-90.   Wind  me  into  him.     Worm  your  way  into  his  confidence. 

91.    Unstate  myself.     Give  up  my  rank  or  fortune. 

To  be  in  due  resolution.     To  be  clear  on  this  point. 
93.   Convey.     Manage  skillfully. 

95.  These  late  eclipses,  etc.  Gloster  was  superstitious.  This  be- 
lief in  astrology,  still  common  in  Shakespeare's  time,  held  the  early 
English  minds  in  bondage. 

96.  Though  the  vjisdom,  etc.  Natural  science  can  account  for 
causes  of  eclipses,  but  we  suffer  their  consequences. 

102.  Bias  of  nature.     Natural  tendency. 

105.  Disquietly.     Cause  disturbance  to  us. 

109.  This  is  the  excellent  foppery,  etc.  Here  is  Edmund's  scorn  of 
his  father's  superstition.  He  will  be  shrewd  enough  to  use  it  for  his 
own  ends,  nevertheless. 

114.  Treachers.     Traitors. 

115.  Spherical  predominance.     A  term  used  in  astrology. 

117.  Like  the  catastrophe  in  the  old  comedy.  Like  event  which 
determines  the  catastrophe  of  the  play  comes  in  its  appointed  time. 

118-19.  Tom  o' Bedlam.  The  beggar  afterward  personated  by  Ed- 
gar. 

124.  Succeed.     Follow. 

127-134.  Asof  unnaturalness.  .  .  .  Come,  come.  Believed  by  the 
best  authorities  not  to  have  been  written  by  Shakespeare. 

138-9.  No  displeasure  in  him.  That  is,  ''no  displeasure  directed 
toward  you  in  him?" 


148  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

144-5.  Mischief  of  your  person.     Harm  to  your  person. 
147-8.  Continent  forbearance.     A  restraint. 
163.  Practices.     Schemes,  plots. 

Scene  III. 

1.  Chiding  of.  The  same  construction  occurs  in  II,  1-39,  "Mum- 
bhng  of;"    and  V,  3-204,  "Hearing  of." 

3.  "The  steward  should  be  placed  in  exact  antithesis  to  Kent,  as 
the  only  character  of  utter  irredeemable  baseness  in  Shakespeare. 
Even  in  this  the  judgment  and  invention  of  the  poet  are  very  observ- 
able; for  what  else  could  the  willing  tool  of  a  Goneril  be?  Not  a  vice 
but  this  of  baseness  was  left  open  to  him." — Coleridge. 

15.  Distaste.     Dislike;    so  written  in  earlier  volumes. 

21.  With  checks  as  flatteries.  Various  critics  have  tried  to  explain 
this  phrase,  but  no  one  has  rendered  the  meaning  any  clearer  than 
Shakespeare  has  expressed  it. 

28.   To  hold  my  very  course.     The  very  same  course  I  hold. 

Scene  IV. 

2.  Diffuse.     Disguise. 

4.  Raz'd.     Erased. 

6.  So  may  it  come.     It  may  so  come. 
11.  Profess.     What  is  thy  calling? 

16.  Eat  no  fish.  That  is,  to  be  a  Protestant.  In  Queen  Elizabeth's 
time  it  was  the  mark  of  a  Papist  to  eat  fish  on  Friday.  Manifestly 
Protestantism  was  unknown  to  Kent's  day. 

27.  You  have  that  .  .  .  master.  A  fine  conception  of  the  king- 
liness  of  Lear.  Many  men  in  history  have  had  the  same  distinction, 
the  inherent  dominant  force  that  men  must  recognize.  When  it  is  a 
natural  gift  it  marks  the  ruler;  when  it  is  assumed  it  marks  the  ty- 
rant. 

32.  Curious.     Elaborate;    as,  "curiously  wrought  fabrics." 

46.  Clotpoll.     Clodpoll,  blockhead. 

53.  Roundest.     Bluntest. 

64.  Rememherest.     Remindest. 

65.  Most  faint.     Hardly  discernible. 

66.  Curiosity.     "Scrupulous  watchfulness." — Stevens.     See  I,  1-5. 
72.   The  fool  hath  much  pined  away.     Evidently  Lear's  fool  is  of  a 

superior  order,  unlike  the  mere  jesters  of  the  times.  Lear's  answer 
shows  how  quickly  his  spirit  responds  to  the  fool's  feelings.  It  is  a 
significant  suggestion  of  the  first  remorse  in  Lear. 


NOTES  149 

82.  Bandy.     A  term  used  in  tennis. 

83.  Strucken.  See  Julius  Ccesar  II,  2,  114:  "Caesar,  it  is  striicken 
eight." 

84.  Foot-ball.  Moberly  says:  "A  somewhat  vulgar  recreation, 
practiced  by  the  London  apprentices  in  Cheapside  to  the  terror  of 
respectable  citizens." 

91.  Earnest.     Money  paid  in  advance  to  ensure  the  bargain. 
91.  Enter  Fool.     Criticisms  of  Lear's  Fool : 

"  '  Now,  our  joy,  though  last,  not  least,'  mj^  dearest  of  all  Fools, 
Lear's  Fool!  Ah,  what  a  noble  heart,  a  gentle  and  a  loving  one,  lies 
beneath  that  parti-colored  jerkin!  .  .  .  Look  at  him!  It  may  be 
your  eyes  see  him  not  as  mine  do,  but  he  appears  to  me  of  a  light  del- 
icate frame,  every  feature  expressive  of  sensibility  even  to  pain,  with 
eyes  lustrously  intelligent,  a  mouth  blandly  beautiful,  and  withal  a 
hectic  flush  upon  his  cheek.  Oh  that  I  were  a  painter!  Oh  that  I 
could  describe  him  as  I  knew  him  in  my  boyhood,  when  the  Fool 
made  me  shed  tears,  while  Lear  did  but  terrify  me!  .  .  .  When  the 
Fool  enters,  throwing  his  coxcomb  at  Kent,  and  instantly  follows  it 
up  with  allusions  to  the  miserable  rashness  of  Lear,  we  ought  to  un- 
derstand him  from  that  moment  to  the  last.  Throughout  this  scene 
his  wit,  however  varied,  still  aims  at  the  same  point,  and  in  spite  of 
threats,  and  regardless  how  his  words  may  be  construed  by  Goneril's 
creatures,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  filial  love  he  prompts  the  old  king 
to  'resume  the  shape  which  he  had  cast  off.'  'This  is  not  altogether 
fool,  my  lord.'  But,  alas !  it  is  too  late ;  and  when  driven  from  the 
scene  by  Goneril,  he  turns  upon  her  with  an  indignation  that  knows 
no  fear  of  the  '  halter '  for  himself :  '  A  fox  when  one  has  caught  her. 
And  such  a  daughter.  Should  sure  to  the  slaughter.  If  my  cap  would 
buy  a  halter.'  That  such  a  character  should  be  distorted  by  players, 
printers,  and  commentators!  Observe  every  word  he  speaks;  his 
meaning,  one  would  imagine,  could  not  be  misinterpreted;  and  when 
at  length,  finding  his  covert  reproaches  can  avail  nothing,  he  changes 
his  discourse  to  simple  mirth,  in  order  to  distract  the  sorrows  of  his 
master.  When  Lear  is  in  the  storm,  who  is  with  him?  None — not 
even  Kent — 'None  but  the  Fool;  who  labors  to  outjest  His  heart- 
struck  injuries.'  The  tremendous  agony  of  Lear's  mind  would  be 
too  painful,  and  even  deficient  in  pathos,  without  this  poor  faithful 
servant  at  his  side.  It  is  he  that  touches  our  hearts  with  pity,  while 
Lear  fills  the  imagination  to  aching." — C.  A.  Brown. 

"A  youth,  not  a  grown  man." — Charles  Cowden  Clarke. 

"After  these  long  and  good  notes  by  my  betters  I  wish  merely  to 
record  humbly  but  firmly  my  conviction  that  the  Fool,  one  of  Shake- 
speare's most  wonderful  characters,  is  not  a  boy,  but  a  man — one  of 
the  shrewdest,  tenderest  of  men,  whom  long  life  had  made  shrewd, 
and  whom  afflictions  had  made  tender;  his  wisdom  is  too  deep  for 
any  boy,  and  could  be  found  only  in  a  man,  removed  by  not  more 
than  a  score  of  years  from  the  king's  own  age;  he  had  been  Lear's 
companion  from  the  days  of  Lear's  early  manhood." — H .  H.  Furness. 

"Not  only  does  much  that  he  says  show  a  shrewdness  which  can 
only  be  the  result  of  long  experience  and  observation  of  men  and 


150  THE    CRAIN'E    CLASSICS 

things,  but  his  intense  sympathy  for  Lear  seems  to  us  beyond  the 
capacity  of  boyish  years.  On  the  other  hand,  Lear's  addressing  him 
as  'boy'  and  'pretty  knave,'  and  the  Hke,  may  be  explained,  partly 
by  the  force  of  habit — for  he  was  a  mere  boy  when  he  first  became 
Lear's  companion,  and,  it  may  be  added,  would  from  his  very  posi- 
tion naturally  continue  to  be  regarded  and  treated  as  a  boy— and 
partly  from  his  slight  and  fragile  physique,  which  would  make  him 
appear  more  like  an  overgrown  boy  than  a  man." — William  J.  Rolfe. 

92.  Coxcomb.     The  fool's  cap,  the  badge  of  his  calling. 

97-8.  Thou' It  catch  cold.  That  is,  be  turned  out  of  doors  in  the  in- 
clement weather. 

99.  Banished.  By  giving  them  the  kingdom  he  has  lost  their  re- 
gard. 

Blessing.     Lear  made  Cordelia  Queen  of  France  by  cursing  her. 

101.  N uncle.     Possibly  contracted  from  mine  uncle. 

108.  Brach.     Female  hound. 

109.  A  pestilent  gall  to  me.  This  may  refer  to  the  bitterness  of  the 
fool's  jesting,  or  to  the  memory  of  Oswald's  treatment,  or  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Cordelia's  banishment. 

115.  Owest.     Ownest. 
118.  Set.     Put  to  stake. 

139.  Motley.     The  parti-colored  dress  of  the  fool. 
154.  Thy  ass.     Refers  to  ^sop's  fable. 

180.  Frontlet.     A  frown.     A  frontlet  was   a  band   worn   on   the 
forehead  at  night,  to  keep  it  smooth. 
190.  Shealed  pcascod.     A  mere  husk. 
201.   The  tender  of  a  wholesome  weal.     The  care  of  a  commonwealth. 

207.  It  head.     Old  form  of  possessive. 

208.  Darkling.     In  the  dark. 
219.  Notion.     Mind. 

226.  Which.     Whom,  possibly. 

228.  Admiration.     Astonishment. 

231.  As  you  .  .  .  wise.  A  proper  conception  of  a  graceful  old 
age.     A  rebuke  to  Lear,  whose  years  had  not  brought  wisdom. 

233.  Debosh'd.     Evidently  debauched. 

240.  Disquantity .     Reduce. 

242.  Besort.     Befit,  become. 

259.  Worships.     The  dignity,  or  honor. 

265.  Dear.     Valuable,  precious. 

270-283.  A  bitter  malediction  for  a  father  to  pronounce  upon  his 
daughter.     It  has  hardly  a  parallel  in  literature. 

275.  Teem.     Bear  children. 


NOTES  151 

277.  Thwart.     Perverse. 

Disnatur'd.     Unnatural. 
279.  Cadent.     Falling. 

295.   Untented.     Unprobed,  incurable.     (See  Tent,  in  Dictionary.) 
301.  Comfortable.     Able  to  comfort. 
310.    You,  sir.     To  the  fool. 
321.  At  point.     Prepared. 

340.  Milky  gentleness.  Macbeth,  his  wife  says,  has  "too  much  of 
the  milk  of  human  kindness." 

Scene  V. 
8.  Kibes.     Chilblains. 

10.  Thy  wit,  etc.     "This  journey  shows  you  have  no  wit." 
14.  Crab.     A  crab-apple. 
22.  /  did  her  wrong. 

"The  beautiful  soul  of  Cordelia,  that  is  little  talked  of  by  herself, 
and  is  but  stingily  set  forth  by  circumstance,  engrosses  our  feeling 
in  scenes  from  whose  threshold  her  filial  piety  is  banished.  We  know 
what  Lear  is  so  pathetically  remembering ;  the  sisters  tell  us  in  their 
cruellest  moments;  it  mingles  with  the  midnight  storm  a  sigh  of  the 
daughterhood  that  was  repulsed.  In  the  pining  of  the  Fool  we  de- 
tect it.  Through  every  wail  or  gust  of  this  awful  symphony  of  mad- 
ness, ingratitude,  and  irony,  we  feel  a  woman's  breath." — Weiss. 

33.   The  seven  stars.     The  Pleiades. 

36.  To  take  't  again  perforce.  Possibly  Lear  was  meditating  the 
resumption  of  his  throne. 

42.  0,  let  me  not  be  mad.  Lear's  first  intimation  of  coming  insanity. 
This  is  a  common  experience  in  the  disease.  Many  instances  are 
recorded  wherein  the  consciousness  of  coming  madness  wears  on  the 
mind  long  before  it  loses  its  reason.  It  is  one  of  the  most  poignantly 
pathetic  things  of  life. 

Act  II. 
Scene  I. 

1.  Save  thee.     God  save  thee. 

10.  Toward.     In  preparation. 

17.  Queasy.     Delicate. 

31.  Quit  you.     Acquit  you. 

32.  Yield!  come  before  my  father!  This  is  spoken  in  a  loud  voice, 
so  it  may  be  heard  outside. 

44.   This  way.     Pointing  to  the  wrong  way. 
51.  Loathly.     For  the  adverb  loathingly. 
57.  Gasted.     Frightened. 


152  THE    CRAN^E    CLASSICS 

68.  Pight.     Fixed. 

70.   Unpossessing.     Unable  to  inherit  legitimately. 

75.  Character.     Writing. 
79.  Pregnant.     Read}''. 

81.  Fastened.     Confirmed. 

82.  I  never  got  him.     Begot  him. 

85.  His  picture,  etc.  A  custom  much  older  than  the  art  of  pho- 
tography. 

129.  Poise.     Importance. 

Scene  II. 
1.  Dawning.     Evening, 

8.  Lipsbury  pinfold.     A  disputed  expression.     No  satisfactory  ex- 
planation exists  concerning  it. 
15.  Lily-livered.     Cowardly. 

Action-taking.     Resorting  to  lawsuits  instead  of  fighting  out 
an  insult. 

22.  Addition.     Title. 

29.  Cullionly.     Base,  cullion-like. 

33.  Vanity  the  puppet's  part.  Evidently  vanity  is  here  the  person- 
ification of  Goneril's  weakness  as  contrasted  with  Lear's  royalty.  In 
the  old  allegorical  plays  Vanity  was  personated  in  the  puppet,  Hope 
in  the  beautiful  heroine,  etc. 

34.  Carbonado.     To  cut  meat  crosswise  for  boiling. 
37.  Neat.     Mere. 

41.  Goodman  boy.     Used  contemptousl3^ 

42.  Flesh.     To  give  flesh  food  for  the  first  time.     To  initiate. 
50.  Disclaims  in.     Disowns. 

59.  Zed.  Obsolete  form  of  the  letter  Z.  The  application  here 
is  possibly  that,  as  Z  is  a  letter  but  little  known,  so  this  Oswald  is  a 
nobody,  and  unnecessary. 

69.  Holy  cords.  Same  as  ''sacred  ties"  between  parent  and  child 
and  husband  and  wife. 

70.  Intrinse.     Intricate. 
73.  Renege.     Deny. 

Halcyon  beaks.     The  kingfisher,  that  always  turns  its  beak  with 
the  wind. 

76.  Epileptic.     Distorted. 

78.  Sarum.     Former  name  for  Salisbury. 

79.  Camelot.  In  the  old  Arthurian  legends  Camelot  was  in  Som- 
ersetshire, a  place  noted  for  moors  where  geese  were  bred. 

86.  Likes.     Pleases. 


NOTES  153 

101.  Observants.     Attendants. 

108.  Discommend.     Disapprove. 

117.  Compact.     In  conjunction  with. 

122.  Fleshment.     In  the  first  flush  of  glory. 

125.  Ajax  is  their  fool.     Is  a  fool  to  them. 

141.  Being.     That  is,  you  being. 

160.  RuhVd.     Hindered. 

163.  A  good  man's  fortune,  etc.  Even  a  good  man  may  have  bad 
luck. 

167.  The  common  sau\  The  old  saying,  ''Out  of  God's  blessing 
into  the  warm  sun."  Meaning  from  good  to  bad.  Usually  applied 
to  being  turned  out  of  doors. 

170.  Under  globe.     The  world. 

171.  Comfortable.     Comforting. 

Scene  III. 
2.  Happy.     Fortunate. 
6.  Am  bethought.     Think. 
10.  Elf.     Tangle,  as  elves  were  supposed  to  do  to  slovenly  persons. 

14.  Bedlam  beggars.  England  had  many  stories  of  such  people. 
One  writes  describing  such  a  man: 

''  'An  Abraham-man:'  'He  sweares  he  hath  been  in  Bedlam,  and 
will  talke  frantickely  of  purpose:  you  see  pinnes  stuck  in  sundry 
places  of  his  naked  flesh,  especially  in  his  amies,  which  paine  he  gladly 
puts  himselfe  to,  only  to  make  you  believe  he  is  out  of  his  wits.  He 
calls  himselfe  by  the  name  of  Poore  Tom,  and  comming  near  any 
body  cries  out,  Poore  Tom  is  a-cold.  Of  these  Abraham-men,  some 
be  exceeding  merry,  and  doe  nothing  but  sing  songs  fashioned  out 
of  their  own  braines:  some  will  dance,  others  will  doe  nothing  but 
either  laugh  or  weepe :  others  are  dogged,  and  so  sullen  both  in  loke 
and  speech,  that  spying  but  a  small  company  in  a  house,  they  boldly 
and  bluntly  enter,  compelling  the  servants  through  feare  to  give  them 
what  they  demand." 

15.  Mortified.     Deadened. 

18.  Pelting.     Paltry. 

19.  Bans.     Curses. 

20.  Turlygod.     A  kind  of  beggar. 

Scene  IV. 
10.  Cruel  garters.     A  pun  on  crewel  garters;    the  worsted  out  of 
which  garters  were  often  made. 

13.  Nether-stocks.     Short  stockings. 

28.   Upon  respect.     Upon  respectability,  or  deliberately. 


154  THE    CRANE    CLASSICS 

29.  Resolve  me.     Inform  me. 

Modest.     As  reasonable  as  truth-telling  will  permit  of. 
38.  Spite  of  intermission.     Without  waiting  to  give  Kent  answer. 
40.  Meiny.     Retinue. 
46.  Displayed  so  saucily.     Became  so  impudent. 

56.  Dolours.     Play  on  the  word  dollars. 

57.  Tell.     Count. 

58.  This  mother.  The  only  instance  where  mother-love  has  any 
part  in  this  tragedy  of  fierce  passions. 

59.  Hysterica  passio.     Hysterics. 

86.  Perdy.     A  corrupt  form  of  par  Dieu. 

91.  Fetches.     Pretenses. 

114.  Headier.     Impetuous,  headlong. 

118.  Remotion.     Removal. 

119.  Practice.     Deception. 

126.  Cockney.     Possibly  cockney  cook. 

126-130.  Absurd  cruelty  and  absurd  kindness  are  both  sho\vn  in 
these  lines. 

142.  Quality.     Nature. 

168.  Abated.     Deprived. 

172.  Top.     Head. 

182.  Tender-hefted.  A  much-disputed  term.  It  may  mean  tender- 
hested.  Of  a  tender  disposition,  or  hefted  as  derived  from  heaving; 
the  bosom  heaving  with  tender  emotions.  Other  interpretations, 
more  far-fetched,  still  are  given  by  some  critics. 

186.  Sizes.     Allowances. 

234.  Knee.     Kneel  before. 

236.  Sumpter.     Packhorse. 

245.  Embossed.     Protuberant. 

320.  Particular.     Personally. 

Act  III. 

Scene  I. 
6.  Main.     Mainland. 
8.  Eyeless.     Undiscerning,  blind. 
12.  Cub-drawn.     Robbed  of  her  cubs. 
20.  Note.     Knowing. 

28.  Snuffs  and  packings.     Offenses  and  plottings. 
35.  At  point.     Prepared. 
48.  Out-wall.     Exterior. 
57.  Pain.     Labor,  effort. 


NOTES  155 

Scene  II. 

2.  Hurricanoes.     Waterspouts. 

3.  Cocks.     Weather-vanes. 

5.   Vaunt-couriers.     Forerunners. 
8.  All  germens  spill.     Destroy  all  seed. 
10.  Court  holy-water.     Compliments — even  flattery. 
23.  High  engendered  battles.     Engendered  in  the  upper  air. 
27.   The  man  that  makes  his  toe,  etc.     That  sets  up  little,  trivial 
things  in  place  of  vital  ones. 

39.  Gallon).     Frighten.     The  only  instance  of  this  use  of  the  word. 

40.  Since  I  was  a  man,  etc.     Compare  with  Casca's  description  of 
night,  in  Julius  Ccesar,  I,  3. 

43.  Carry.     Endure. 

46.  Pudder.     Pother,  or  bother. 

50.  Simular.     Deceiver,  sinmlator. 

55.  Summoners.     Those  who  summon.     The  officers  of  Ihe  law. 

62.  Demanding.     Inquiring. 

Scene  III. 
12.  Look.     Look  for. 

19.  Forbid  thee.     Forbidden  thee. 

Scene  IV. 

20.  This  mouth  should  tear.     As  if  this  mouth,  etc. 
32.  Poverty.     Abstract  for  concrete. 

37.  Loop'd  and  window'd.     Full  of  holes. 

41.  Superflex.     Superfluity. 

64.  Star-blasting.     The  curse  of  the  stars  upon  him.     The  same  as 
being  "born  under  an  evil  star." 
72.  Pendulous.     Impending. 
76.  Lowness.     Low  estate. 

80.  Pelican.     The  fable  runs  that  young  pelicans  are  fed  with 
blood  from  the  parent's  breast. 

81.  Pillicock.     Sometimes  a  term  of  endearment. 
89-99.  A  remarkable  speech. 

107.   Unaccommodated.     Without  any  of  the  conveniences  of  civil- 
ization— aboriginal. 

109.  Unbutton.     Very  likelj'^  meant  for  a  mere  stage  direction. 

110.  Naughty.     Used  in  a  much  stronger  sense  then  than  now. 

113.  Walking  fire.     Gloster  with  a  torch. 

114.  Flibbertigibbet.     Shakespeare  got  this  name  from  Dr.  Hars- 


156  THE    CEANE    CT.ASS1CS 

net's  Declaration  of  Popish  Impostures,  published  in  1603.  Harsnet 
says:  ''Frateretto,  Fleberdigibet,  Hoberdidance,  Tocobatto,  were 
four  deuils  of  the  round,  or  Morrice,  whom  Sara  in  her  fits,  tuned 
together,  in  measure  and  sweet  cadence."  It  had  come  to  be  used 
figuratively  even  in  that  day,  for  Cotgrave  gives  it  as  one  of  the  defi- 
nitions of  Coquette:  "  A  fisking,  or  fliperous  minx,  a  cocket  or  tatling 
housewife;   a  titifiU,  a  flebergebit." 

115.  Walks.     Goes  away. 

Web  and  the  pin.     Old  name  for  a  cataract  on  the  eye. 

118.  Old.     Wold. 

122.  Aroint.     Away  with. 

128,  Wall-newt  and  the  water.  The  lizard  on  the  wall  and  the 
water-lizard. 

130.  SalUts.     Salads. 

Ditch-dog.     Dead  dog  thrown  in  the  ditch. 

132.  Tithing.  A  parish  or  district  in  the  country,  corresponding 
to  a  ward  in  the  city.  Tramps  were  publicly  whipped  and  sent  from 
parish  to  parish,  by  statute  enacted  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time. 

Stocked,  punished.     Old  folios  had  stock-punished. 

133.  Where  are  Tom's  clothes  now? 
135.  Deer.     General  name  for  game. 

137.   Smulkin.     Another  one  of  Harsnet's  devils. 

139-140.  Modo   .    .    .   Maku.     Two  more  of  Harsnet's. 

142.  Gets.  Begets.  Did  Edgar's  voice  remind  Gloster  of  his  son, 
whom  he  believed  to  be  unfilial? 

183.  Child  Rowland.  Same  as  Childe  Harold.  The  title  given  in 
old  English  ballads  to  a  j^oung  knight. 

Scene  V. 

2.  Censured.     Judged. 
Nature.     Natural  affection. 

3.  Fears  me.     Frightens  me. 

6.  Provoking  merit.  Edgar's  merit,  which  moved  him  against  his 
father,  who  lacked  merit. 

9.  Approves.     Proves. 

18.  Comforting.  "Giving  aid  and  comfort,"  the  legal  terms  of 
treason. 

Scene  VI. 
6.  Frateretto   .    .    .    Nero.     See  note  on  Flibbertigibbet,  IV,   114. 

10.  Yeoman.     A  freeholder,  but  not  a  gentleman. 

13.  Mad  yeoman.     This  is  something  of  a  reflection  upon  Shake- 


NOTES  157 

speare  himself.  Hudson  says  "the  poet  obtained  from  the  Heralds' 
College  a  coat-of-arms  in  his  father's  name;  thus  getting  his  yeoman 
father  dubbed  a  gentleman,  in  order,  no  doubt,  that  he  himself  might 
inherit  his  rank." 

16.  Hizzing.     Hissing. 

21.  Justicer.     Justice. 

26.  Come  o^er,  etc.     An  English  ballad  by  William  Brich. 

31.  Hoppedance.     Harsnet's  devil. 

39.  Bench.  Take  place.  ''To  bench,"  used  sometimes  for  ''to 
raise  to  authority." 

44.  Minikin.     Petty,  small. 

46.  Pur.  Either  in  imitation  of  a  cat,  or  Purre,  one  of  Harsnet's 
devils. 

69.  Lym,.     Lime-hound,  or  leash-led  hound. 

70.  Tike.     A  cur. 

85.  I'll  go  to  bed  at  noon.  This  is  the  last  appearance  of  the  fool 
in  the  play. 

100.  Balmed.     Healed. 
110.  Sufferance.     Suffering. 
117.  Repeals.     Recalls. 

Scene  VII. 
10.  Festinate.     Speedy. 
16.  Questrists.     Seekers. 
25.  Pass  upon.     Pass  sentence  on. 
30.  Corky.     Withered. 

44.  Quicken.     Turn  to  life. 

45.  Hospitable  favors.     The  features  of  your  host. 
49.  Simple-answered.     Plain  in  answer. 

74.  Stelled.     Fixed. 

78.  All  cruels  else  subscribe.     A  phrase  much  studied  upon  and  not 
yet  satisfactorily  explained  by  any  critic. 
94.  Villain.     Serf. 
105.  Quit.     Requite. 

122.   The  old  course.     The  ordinary  death. 
126.  Allows  itself  to.     To  be  turned  to  or  employed  with. 

Act  IV. 

Scene  I. 
4.  Esperance.     Hope. 
9.  Owes  nothing.     Need  not  care  for. 

11-12.  The  strange  changes  of  fortune  make  us  hate  life  and  ren- 
der us  willing  to  grow  old  and  die. 


158  THE    CKANE    CLASSICS 

22.  Our  means  secure  us.     Make  us  secure  and  careless. 

23.  Commodities.     Advantages. 

39-40.  My  son  came  then  into  my  mind.  Why  should  he  have 
done  so? 

74.  Mopping  and  mowing.     Making  faces. 

79.  That  I  am  wretched,  etc.  My  disasters  make  me  feel  more  for 
others. 

81.  Superfluous.     Having  an  abundance. 

82.  Slaves.  Does  not  obey  the  law  of  heaven,  but  makes  it  servant 
to  him. 

87.  "The  cliff  now  known  as  Shakespeare's  Cliff  is  just  outside  of 
the  town  of  Dover,  to  the  southwest.  Tt  has  been  somewhat  dimin- 
ished in  height  by  frequent  landslips,  but  it  is  still  about  350  feet 
high.  The  surge  still  chafes  against  the  pebbles,  and  the  samphire- 
gatherer  is  still  let  down  in  a  basket  to  pursue  his  perilous  trade ;  but 
the  cliff  is  not  so  perpendicular,  nor  do  objects  below  seem  so  small 
as  one  would  infer  from  the  poet's  description.  Probablj'^  he  did  not 
mean  to  give  a  picture  of  this  particular  cliff,  but  delineated  one  '  in 
his  mind's  eye,'  and  more  or  less  ideal.  The  South  Eastern  Railwaj'- 
now  runs  through  the  Dover  cliff,  in  a  tunnel  1331  yards  long. —  W. 
J.  Rolfe. 

Scene  II. 

1.  Mild  husband.  Albany  from  the  first  did  not  favor  the  schemes 
of  Goneril. 

14.  Cowish.     Easily  cowed. 

16.  Our  wishes  on  the  way,  etc.  A  hint  of  the  unfaithfulness  of 
Goneril  to  her  husband  is  here  suggested. 

24.  Decliiie.     Incline. 

26.  Conceive.     Comprehend. 

33.  /  have  been  worth  the  whistle.  T  have  been  in  past  time  worth 
coming  to  meet  sooner. 

37.  Contemns  its  origin.  Nature  grown  so  degenerate  that  it  con- 
temns its  origin  and  will  break  forth  in  more  monstrous  excesses. 

47.  Head-lugg'd.     Bear  led  by  the  head. 

61.  Where's  thy  drum?  Where  are  the  forces  that  should  rally  to 
the  cause? 

62.  Noiseless  land.     No  sound  of  preparations  for  war. 
64.  Moral.     Moralizing. 

67.  Proper  deformity.  "Deformity  comformable  to  the  charac- 
ter."— Schmidt. 

70.  Self -covered.     The  fiend  completely  hides  the  woman. 

71.  Feature.     Bodily  form. 

96.  One  way  I  like  this  well.     Goneril  feels  that  Cornwall,  one  of  the 


I^OTES 


159 


rulers,  is  out  of  the  way.  If  she  can  get  rid  of  Albany  and  marry 
Edmund,  she  can  dispose  of  Regan  either  by  murder  or  by  overcoming 
her  in  some  other  way.  But  Edmund  may  turn  now  to  Regan,  who 
is  free. 

104.  Back  again.     Going  back  again. 

Scene  III. 

39.  Self  mate  and  mate.     The  same  husband  and  wife. 

49.   Elbows.     Crowds  down  upon  him. 

60.  Some  dear  cause.     Some  important  matter. 

Scene  IV. 

6.  A  century.     A  company  of  100  men. 

8.  Can.     Can  do. 

13.  Our  jostcr-nurse  of  nature  is  repose. 

"The  reply  of  the  Physician  is  significant,  and  worthy  of  careful 
attention,  as  embi-acing  a  brief  summary  of  almost  the  only  true  prin- 
ciples recognized  by  modern  science,  and  now  carried  out  b}^  the  most 
eminent  physicians  in  the  treatment  of  the  insane.  We  find  here  no 
allusion  to  the  scourgings,  the  charms,  the  invocation  of  saints,  etc., 
employed  by  the  most  eminent  physicians  of  the  time  of  Shakespeare ; 
neither  have  we  any  allusion  to  the  rotary  chairs,  the  vomitings, 
the  purgings  by  hellebore,  the  showerings,  the  bleedings,  scalp-shav- 
ings, and  blisterings,  which,  even  down  to  our  own  times,  have  been 
inflicted  upon  these  unfortunates  by  'science  falsely  so  called,'  and 
which  stand  recorded  as  imperishable  monuments  of  medical  folly; 
but  in  place  of  all  this,  Shakespeare,  speaking  through  the  mouth 
of  the  Physician,  gives  us  the  principle,  simple,  truthful,  and  uni- 
versally applicable." — Dr.  Kellogg,  in  ''Shakespeare's  Delineation  of 
Insanity." 

15.  Simples.     Medicinal  herbs. 

19.  Aidant  and  remediate.     Healing  and  helpful. 

29.  Important.     Importunate. 

Scene  V. 

30.  (Eillades.     Amorous  looks. 

In  this  scene  Oswald,  who  is  the  very  type  of  perfidy,  shows  how 
loyal  he  can  be  to  the  one  whom  he  serves.  It  is  a  strange  contra- 
diction in  nature,  but  the  portrayal  of  it  serves  to  show  how  keen  was 
the  writer's  grasp  of  himian  traits,  common  and  uncommon. 


160  THE    CRANE    CEASSICS 

Scene  VI. 

18.  Choughs.     Birds  of  the  crow  family. 

19.  Gross.     Large. 

20.  Sampire.  Samphire,  sold  for  pickles.  It  grew  in  dangerous 
crevices  of  cliffs.     Gathering  it  was  a  perilous  business. 

24.  Cock.     Cock-boat. 

42.  Is  done  to  cure  it.     My  trifling  is  done,  etc. 

48.  Snuff.     The  part  the  candle-flame  has  fed  upon. 

68.  Bown.     Boundary. 

85.   Whelked.     Knobbed. 

102.  Press-money.  Money  given  to  a  soldier  impressed  into  ser- 
vice. 

Crow-keeper.     One  who  keeps  crows  out  of  a  field. 

106.  Brown  bills.     Halberds  used  by  foot-soldiers. 
Well  floivn,  bird.     A  term  used  in  falconry. 
Clout.  White  mark  in  the  center  of  the  target. 

120.   Trick.     Peculiarity. 

133.  Piece.     Masterpiece. 

137.  Squiny.     Squint. 

143.  Case.     Empty  sockets. 

152.  Handy-dandy.  A  children's  game,  where  something  is  passed 
q\iickly  from  hand  to  hand. 

164.  Able.     Warrant. 

171.  Impertinency.     What  is  not  pertinent. 

188.  The  natural  fool  of  fortune.  The  sport  of  fortune,  the  play- 
thing of  fate. 

202.  Sa,  sa,  sa,  sa.     Possibly  the  panting  after  swift  running. 

208.  Speed  you.     May  you  prosper. 

210.   Vulgar.     Common. 

214.  Descry.     Main  body. 

227.  Feeling.     Heartfelt. 

228.  Pregnant.     Disposed. 

229.  Biding.     Abiding-place. 
232.   To  boot.     Above  my  thanks. 

236.  Thyself  remember.     Make  you  peace. 

237.  Now  let,  etc.  Gloster  wants  Oswald  to  do  his  work  quickly. 
He  courts  death. 

244.  Chill,  etc.  "I  mil,"  in  the  Somersetshire  dialect.  Edgar 
adopts  this  form  of  speech  as  a  further  disguise.  Chud="  I  should." 
Che  vor  ye=''l  warn  you."  7se="I  shall."  Costard=hesid.  Bal- 
low= cudgel. 


isroTES  161 

254.  Foins.     Thrusts  in  fencing. 

270.  Leave,  gentle  wax.     "  By  your  leave" — to  the  seal  of  the  letter. 
Manners,   blame   ks   not.     Excuse   this  rudeness   in   opening 
other  people's  letters. 

281.  Indistinguished  space.     Unlimited  range. 

287.  Death-practised  duke.     Duke  against  whose  life  there  is  a  plot. 

290.  Ingenious.     Conscious. 

Scene  VII. 
8.  Weeds.     Garments. 

18.  Great  breach  in  his  abused  nature.     A  fine  line. 
20.  Child-changed  father.     Either  changed  by  his  children,  or  be- 
come childish. 

28.   Temperance.     Self-restraint. 

42.  Perdu.     Forlorn  one. 

95.  Even  o'er.     To  run  over  the  time  spent  in  madness. 

110.  Arbitrement.     Decision. 

Act  V. 
Scene  I. 

4.  Constant  pleasure.      Settled  resolution. 

5.  Miscarried.     Lost. 

6.  Doubled.     Feared,  or  suspected. 

8.  Intend  upon.     Intend  to  confer  upon. 
13.  For  fended.     Forbidden. 
15.  /  am  doubtful.     I  suspect. 

30.  It  toucheth  us,  as  France  invades  our  land.     I  would  not  fight 
against  Lear,  but  I  fight  for  England  against  France. 

31.  Bolds.     This  verbal  use  is  found  nowhere  else. 

32.  Make  oppose. 

39.  Ancient  of  war.     Those  old  in  military  affairs. 
44.  /  know  the  riddle.     I  know  your  game. 
59.  Overlook.     Look  over. 

Scene  II. 
12.  Ripeness.     Readiness  is  the  essential  thing. 

Scene  III. 

18.  God's  spies.     God's  angels. 

19.  Packs  and  sects.     Coalitions  and  conspiracies  of  court. 

25.  Like  foxes.     The  custom  of  smoking  foxes  out  of  their  holes 

was  common. 
—11 


162  THE    CRAK^E    CLASSICS 

30.   This  note.     This  warrant. 
46.  Strain.     Family. 
74.  Immediacy.     Next  in  authority. 
80.  Compeers.     Is  equal  with. 

85.  /  am,  not  weU.     Evidently  Regan  is  poisoned  and  by  Goneril's 
hand. 

107.  An  interlude.     "A  plot  within  a  plot." — Moberly. 
125.  Virtue.     Valor. 

158.  Maugre.     In  spite  of. 

159.  Fire-new.     Just  from  the  mint. 
175.  Hell-hated.     As  hateful  as  hell. 

187.  No  tearing,  lady.     No  tears,  or  no  crying. 
348,  Nor  no  man  else.     Nobody  else  to  give  him  welcome. 
367.  My  poor  fool.     Cordelia  is  meant  here.     The  term  is  one  of 
endearment. 


33     W 


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