Authors: William Shakespeare
Exit
EDMUND
This is the
excellent foppery
108
of the world, that when
we are sick in fortune — often the
surfeits
109
of our own
behaviour — we make guilty of our
disasters
110
the sun, the
mo
on
111
and stars, as if we were villains on necessity, fools by
heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves and
treachers
112
by
spherical predominance
113
, drunkards, liars and adulterers
by an enforced obedience of planetary influence, and all that
we are evil in, by a
divine
thrusting on: an admirable
evasion
115
of
whoremaster
man, to lay his
goatish
116
disposition on the
charge
of a star! My father
compounded
117
with my mother
under
the dragon’s tail
and my nativity was under
Ursa
118
Major, so that it follows I am
rough
119
and lecherous. I should
have been that I am had the
maidenliest
120
star in the
firmament
twinkled on my
bastardizing
121
.
Enter Edgar
Pat
he comes like the
catastrophe
of the old
comedy
:
my cue
122
is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like
Tom o’Bedlam
123
.—
O, these eclipses do portend these
divisions
!
Fa, sol, la, mi
124
.
EDGAR
How now, brother Edmund, what serious
contemplation are you in?
EDMUND
I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
this
127
other day, what should follow these eclipses.
EDGAR
Do you busy yourself with that?
EDMUND
I promise you, the effects he writes of
succeed
130
unhappily
131
. 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 word nor
countenance
136
?
EDGAR
None at all.
EDMUND
Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended
him, and at my entreaty
forbear
139
his presence until some little
time hath
qualified
140
the heat of his displeasure, which at this
instant so rageth in him that with the
mischief of your
141
person it would scarcely
allay
142
.
EDGAR
Some villain hath done me wrong.
EDMUND
That’s my fear. I pray you
have a continent
144
forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower: and, as I
say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will
fitly
146
bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray ye go.
Gives a key
There’s my key: if you do stir
abroad
148
, go armed.
EDGAR
Armed, brother?
EDMUND
Brother, I advise you to the best: I am no honest
man if there be any good
meaning
151
toward you: I have told
you what I have seen and heard, but faintly, nothing like the
image and horror
153
of it. Pray you away.
EDGAR
Shall I hear from you
anon
154
?
Exit
EDMUND
I do
serve
155
you in this business.—
A credulous father and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms
That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty
My
practices
159
ride easy. I see the business.
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by
wit
160
:
All with me’s
meet
that I can
fashion fit
161
.
Exit
running scene 3
Enter Goneril and Steward [Oswald]
GONERIL
Did my father strike my
gentleman
for
chiding
1
of his
fool?
OSWALD
Ay, madam.
GONERIL
By day and night he wrongs me: every hour
He
flashes
5
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
10
of former services
You shall do well: the fault of it I’ll
answer
11
.
Horns within
OSWALD
He’s coming, madam: I hear him.
GONERIL
Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your
fellows
: I’d have it come to
question
14
:
If he
distaste
15
it, let him to my sister,
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one.
Remember what I have said.
OSWALD
Well, madam.
GONERIL
And let his knights have colder looks among you:
what grows of it, no matter: advise your fellows so. I’ll write
straight
to
21
my sister, to hold my course. Prepare for dinner.
Exeunt
running scene 3 continues
Enter Kent
Disguised
KENT
If but
as will I
1
other accents borrow,
That can my speech
defuse
2
, my good intent
May carry through itself to that
full issue
3
For which I
razed my likeness
4
. Now, banished Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned,
So may it come thy master whom thou lov’st,
Shall find thee full of labours.
Horns within. Enter Lear and Attendants [his Knights]
LEAR
Let me not
stay
8
a jot for dinner: go get it ready.—
[Exit a Knight]
To Kent
How now, what art thou?
KENT
A man, sir.
LEAR
What dost thou profess
? What
wouldst thou
11
with
us
12
?
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
judgement
, to fight when I
cannot choose
and
to eat no fish
16
.
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’s for a king,
thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?
KENT
Service.
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
31
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
anything
37
: 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
41
? My fool? Go you and call my
fool hither.
[Exit another Knight]
Enter Steward [Oswald]
You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?
OSWALD
So
44
please you—
Exit
LEAR
What says the fellow there? Call the
clotpoll
45
back.—
[Exit another Knight]
Where’s my fool? Ho, I think the world’s asleep.—
[Enter a Knight]
How now? Where’s that mongrel?
KNIGHT
He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.
LEAR
Why came not the
slave
49
back to me when I called
him?
KNIGHT
Sir, he answered me in the
roundest
51
manner, he
would not.
LEAR
He would not?
KNIGHT
My lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my
judgement your highness is not
entertained
55
with that
ceremonious affection as you were
wont
56
: there’s a great
abatement of kindness appears as well in the
general
57
dependants as in the duke himself also and your daughter.
LEAR
Ha? Say’st thou so?
KNIGHT
I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken,
for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness
wronged.
LEAR
Thou but
rememb’rest
me of mine own
conception
63
:
I have perceived a most
faint
64
neglect of late, which I have
rather blamed as mine own
jealous curiosity
than as a
very
65
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 a Knight]
Go you, call hither my fool.—
[Exit another Knight]
Enter Steward [Oswald]
O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?
OSWALD
My lady’s father.
LEAR
‘My lady’s father’? My lord’s knave: you whoreson
dog, you slave, you
cur
77
!
OSWALD
I am none of these, my lord, I beseech your pardon.
KENT
Nor tripped neither, you base
football
81
player.
Trips him
LEAR
I thank thee, fellow: thou serv’st me and I’ll love
thee.
KENT
Come, sir, arise, away! I’ll teach you
differences
84
:
away, away! If you will
measure your
lubber’s
85
length again,
Enter Fool
To Kent
FOOL
Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
LEAR
Why, my boy?
FOOL
Why? For taking one’s part that’s out of favour: nay,
an thou canst not smile as the wind sits
95
, thou’lt catch cold
shortly. There, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has
banished two
on’s
97
daughters and did the third a blessing
against his will: if thou follow him, thou must
needs
98
wear
my coxcomb.— How now,
nuncle
?
Would
99
I had two
coxcombs and two daughters.
LEAR
Why, my boy?
FOOL
If I gave them all my
living
102
, 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 the Lady
Brach
106
may stand by th’fire and stink.
LEAR
A
pestilent gall
107
to me!
FOOL
Sirrah, I’ll teach thee a speech.
LEAR
Do.
FOOL
Mark
110
it, nuncle:
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou
owest
113
,
Ride more than thou
goest
114
,
Learn more than thou
trowest
115
,
Set less than thou throwest
116
;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt
have more
119
Than two tens to a
score
120
.
KENT
This is nothing, fool.