King Lear - William Shakespeare (electronic reader txt) 📗

this child-changed father!

 

Phys.

So please your majesty

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

 

Cor.

Be govern’d by your knowledge, and proceed

I’ the sway of your own will. Is he array’d?

 

Gent.

Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep

We put fresh garments on him.

 

Phys.

Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;

I doubt not of his temperance.

 

Cor.

Very well.

 

Phys.

Please you draw near.—Louder the music there!

 

Cor.

O my dear father! Restoration hang

Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss

Repair those violent harms that my two sisters

Have in thy reverence made!

 

Kent.

Kind and dear princess!

 

Cor.

Had you not been their father, these white flakes

Had challeng’d pity of them. Was this a face

To be oppos’d against the warring winds?

To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?

In the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick cross lightning? to watch—,poor perdu!—

With this thin helm? Mine enemy’s dog,

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night

Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,

To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn,

In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!

‘Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once

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

 

Doct.

Madam, do you; ‘tis fittest.

 

Cor.

How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

 

Lear.

You do me wrong to take me out o’ 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.

 

Cor.

Sir, do you know me?

 

Lear.

You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

 

Cor.

Still, still, far wide!

 

Phys.

He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

 

Lear.

Where have I been? Where am I?—Fair daylight,—

I am mightily abus’d.—I should e’en die with pity,

To see another thus.—I know not what to say.—

I will not swear these are my hands:—let’s see;

I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur’d

Of my condition!

 

Cor.

O, look upon me, sir,

And hold your hands in benediction o’er me.—

No, sir, you must not kneel.

 

Lear.

Pray, do not mock me:

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;

And, to deal plainly,

I fear I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks I should know you, and know this man;

Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant

What place this is; and all the skill I have

Remembers not these garments; nor I know not

Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;

For, as I am a man, I think this lady

To be my child Cordelia.

 

Cor.

And so I am. I am.

 

Lear.

Be your tears wet? yes, faith. I pray, weep not:

If you have poison for me, I will drink it.

I know you do not love me; for your sisters

Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:

You have some cause, they have not.

 

Cor.

No cause, no cause.

 

Lear.

Am I in France?

 

Kent.

In your own kingdom, sir.

 

Lear.

Do not abuse me.

 

Phys.

Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,

You see, is kill’d in him: and yet it is danger

To make him even o’er the time he has lost.

Desire him to go in; trouble him no more

Till further settling.

 

Cor.

Will’t please your highness walk?

 

Lear.

You must bear with me:

Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

 

[Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and Attendants.]

 

Gent.

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

 

Kent.

Most certain, sir.

 

Gent.

Who is conductor of his people?

 

Kent.

As ‘tis said, the bastard son of Gloster.

 

Gent.

They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent

in Germany.

 

Kent.

Report is changeable. ‘Tis time to look about; the powers of

the kingdom approach apace.

 

Gent.

The arbitrement is like to be bloody.

Fare you well, sir.

 

[Exit.]

 

Kent.

My point and period will be throughly wrought,

Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.

 

[Exit.]

 

ACT V.

 

Scene I. The Camp of the British Forces near Dover.

 

[Enter, with drum and colours, Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers,

and others.]

 

Edm.

Know of the duke if his last purpose hold,

Or whether since he is advis’d by aught

To change the course: he’s full of alteration

And self-reproving:—bring his constant pleasure.

 

[To an Officer, who goes out.]

 

Reg.

Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.

 

Edm.

Tis to be doubted, madam.

 

Reg.

Now, sweet lord,

You know the goodness I intend upon you:

Tell me,—but truly,—but then speak the truth,

Do you not love my sister?

 

Edm.

In honour’d love.

 

Reg.

But have you never found my brother’s way

To the forfended place?

 

Edm.

That thought abuses you.

 

Reg.

I am doubtful that you have been conjunct

And bosom’d with her, as far as we call hers.

 

Edm.

No, by mine honour, madam.

 

Reg.

I never shall endure her: dear my lord,

Be not familiar with her.

 

Edm.

Fear me not:—

She and the duke her husband!

 

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

 

Gon.

[Aside.] I had rather lose the battle than that sister

Should loosen him and me.

 

Alb.

Our very loving sister, well be-met.—

Sir, this I heard,—the king is come to his daughter,

With others whom the rigour of our state

Forc’d to cry out. Where I could not be honest,

I never yet was valiant: for this business,

It toucheth us, as France invades our land,

Not bolds the king, with others whom, I fear,

Most just and heavy causes make oppose.

 

Edm.

Sir, you speak nobly.

 

Reg.

Why is this reason’d?

 

Gon.

Combine together ‘gainst the enemy;

For these domestic and particular broils

Are not the question here.

 

Alb.

Let’s, then, determine

With the ancient of war on our proceeding.

 

Edm.

I shall attend you presently at your tent.

 

Reg.

Sister, you’ll go with us?

 

Gon.

No.

 

Reg.

‘Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us.

 

Gon.

[Aside.] O, ho, I know the riddle.—I will go.

 

[As they are going out, enter Edgar disguised.]

 

Edg.

If e’er your grace had speech with man so poor,

Hear me one word.

 

Alb.

I’ll overtake you.—Speak.

 

[Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, Officers, Soldiers, and

Attendants.]

 

Edg.

Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.

If you have victory, let the trumpet sound

For him that brought it: wretched though I seem,

I can produce a champion that will prove

What is avouched there. If you miscarry,

Your business of the world hath so an end,

And machination ceases. Fortune love you!

 

Alb.

Stay till I have read the letter.

 

Edg.

I was forbid it.

When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,

And I’ll appear again.

 

Alb.

Why, fare thee well: I will o’erlook thy paper.

 

[Exit Edgar.]

 

[Re-enter Edmund.]

 

Edm.

The enemy’s in view; draw up your powers.

Here is the guess of their true strength and forces

By diligent discovery;—but your haste

Is now urg’d on you.

 

Alb.

We will greet the time.

 

[Exit.]

 

Edm.

To both these sisters have I sworn my love;

Each jealous of the other, as the stung

Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?

Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy’d,

If both remain alive: to take the widow

Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;

And hardly shall I carry out my side,

Her husband being alive. Now, then, we’ll use

His countenance for the battle; which being done,

Let her who would be rid of him devise

His speedy taking off. As for the mercy

Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,—

The battle done, and they within our power,

Shall never see his pardon: for my state

Stands on me to defend, not to debate.

 

[Exit.]

 

Scene II. A field between the two Camps.

 

[Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours, Lear, Cordelia, and

their Forces, and exeunt.]

 

[Enter Edgar and Gloster.]

 

Edg.

Here, father, take the shadow of this tree

For your good host; pray that the right may thrive:

If ever I return to you again,

I’ll bring you comfort.

 

Glou.

Grace go with you, sir!

 

[Exit Edgar].

 

[Alarum and retreat within. R-enter Edgar.]

 

Edg.

Away, old man,—give me thy hand,—away!

King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta’en:

Give me thy hand; come on!

 

Glou.

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

 

Edg.

What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure

Their going hence, even as their coming hither;

Ripeness is all:—come on.

 

Glou.

And that’s true too.

 

[Exeunt.]

 

Scene III. The British Camp near Dover.

 

[Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, Edmund; Lear and

Cordelia prisoners; Officers, Soldiers, &c.]

 

Edm.

Some officers take them away: good guard

Until their greater pleasures first be known

That are to censure them.

 

Cor.

We are not the first

Who with best meaning have incurr’d the worst.

For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;

Myself could else 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’ll live,

And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh

At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues

Talk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too,—

Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out;—

And take upon’s the mystery of things,

As if we were God’s spies: and we’ll wear out,

In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great ones

That ebb and flow by the moon.

 

Edm.

Take them away.

 

Lear.

Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,

The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?

He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven

And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes;

The goodyears shall devour them, flesh and fell,

Ere they shall make us weep: we’ll see ‘em starve first.

Come.

 

[Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded.]

 

Edm.

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

Will not bear question; either say thou’lt do’t,

Or thrive by other means.

 

Capt.

I’ll do’t, my lord.

 

Edm.

About it; and write happy when thou hast done.

Mark,—I say, instantly; and carry it so

As I have set it down.

 

Capt.

I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats;

If it be man’s work, I’ll do’t.

 

[Exit.]

 

[Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Officers, and

Attendants.]

 

Alb.

Sir, you have show’d to-day your valiant strain,

And fortune led you well: you have the captives

Who were the opposites of this day’s strife:

We do require them of you, so to use them

As we shall find their merits and our safety

May equally determine.

 

Edm.

Sir, I thought it fit

To