King Lear

GENTLEMAN    A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,

Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast a daughter

Who redeems nature from the general curse²¹²

Which twain²¹³ have brought her to.

EDGAR    Hail, gentle²¹⁴ sir.

GENTLEMAN    Sir, speed you²¹⁵: what’s your will?

EDGAR    Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward²¹⁶?

GENTLEMAN    Most sure and vulgar²¹⁷: everyone hears that

Which can distinguish sound.

EDGAR    But, by your favour²¹⁹,

How near’s the other army?

GENTLEMAN    Near and on speedy foot: the main descry²²¹

Stands on the hourly thought.

EDGAR    I thank you, sir: that’s all.

GENTLEMAN    Though that the queen on special cause²²⁴ is here,

Her army is moved on.

Exit

EDGAR    I thank you, sir.

GLOUCESTER    You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from

me:

Let not my worser spirit²²⁹ tempt me again

To die before you please!

EDGAR    Well pray you, father.

GLOUCESTER    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 sorrows²³⁴,

Am pregnant to good pity²³⁵. Give me your hand:

Takes his arm

I’ll lead you to some biding²³⁶.

GLOUCESTER    Hearty thanks:

The bounty and the benison²³⁸ of heaven

To boot, and boot²³⁹.

Enter Steward [Oswald]

OSWALD    A proclaimed prize! Most happy²⁴⁰!

That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh²⁴¹

To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,

Draws

Briefly thyself remember²⁴³: the sword is out

That must destroy thee.

GLOUCESTER    Now let thy friendly hand

Edgar interposes

Put strength enough to’t.

OSWALD    Wherefore, bold peasant,

Darest thou support a published²⁴⁸ traitor? Hence,

Lest that th’infection of his fortune take

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

EDGAR    ‘Chill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion²⁵¹.

OSWALD    Let go, slave, or thou diest!

EDGAR    Good gentleman, go your gait²⁵³, and let poor volk

pass. An ’chud ha’ bin zwaggered out of my life, ’twould not²⁵⁴

ha’ bin zo long as ’tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near

th’old man: keep out, che vor ye, or I’se²⁵⁶ try whether your

costard or my ballow²⁵⁷ be the harder. ’Chill be plain with you.

OSWALD    Out, dunghill!

They fight

EDGAR    ’Chill pick your teeth, zir: come, no matter vor your foins²⁵⁹.

OSWALD    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 Gloucester: seek him out

Upon the English party²⁶⁴. O, untimely death! Death!

He dies

EDGAR    I know thee well: a serviceable²⁶⁵ villain,

As duteous to the vices of thy mistress

As badness would desire.

GLOUCESTER    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 deathsman²⁷². Let us see.

Opens the letter

Leave²⁷³, gentle wax, and manners, blame us not:

To know our enemies’ minds we rip their hearts:

Their papers is more lawful.

Reads the letter

‘Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many

opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not²⁷⁷, time and

place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done²⁷⁸ if he

return the conqueror: then am I the prisoner, and his bed my

jail, from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and

supply the place for your labour²⁸¹. Your — wife, so I would say

— affectionate servant²⁸², Goneril.’

O, undistinguished space of woman’s will²⁸³!

A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life,

And the exchange my brother! Here in the sands

Thee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctified²⁸⁶

Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time²⁸⁷

With this ungracious paper strike²⁸⁸ the sight

Of the death-practised²⁸⁹ duke: for him ’tis well

That of thy death and business I can tell.

GLOUCESTER    The king is mad: how stiff²⁹¹ is my vile sense,

That I stand up and have ingenious²⁹² feeling

Of my huge sorrows. Better I were distract²⁹³,

So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs,

Drum afar off

And woes by wrong imaginations²⁹⁵ lose

The knowledge of themselves.

EDGAR    Give me your hand:

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.

Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend.

Exeunt

Act 4 Scene 6

running scene 17

Enter Cordelia, Kent and Gentleman

Kent still disguised

CORDELIA    O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work

To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,

And every measure fail me³.

KENT    To be acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid⁴.

All my reports go with the modest truth⁵,

Nor more nor clipped⁶, but so.

CORDELIA    Be better suited⁷:

These weeds⁸ are memories of those worser hours,

I prithee put them off.

KENT    Pardon, dear madam,

Yet to be known shortens my made intent¹¹:

My boon I make it, that you know me not¹²

Till time and I think meet¹³.