OSWALD A proclaim’d prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out
That must destroy thee.
GLOUCESTER Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to’t.
EDGAR interposes
OSWALD Wherefore, bold peasant,
Darest thou support a publish’d traitor? Hence;
Lest that the infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
EDGAR Ch’ill 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,
‘twould not ha’ bin zo long as ’tis 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: ch’ill be plain with you.
OSWALD Out, dunghill!
EDGAR Ch’ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor
your foins.
They fight, and EDGAR knocks him down
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 British party: O, untimely death!
Dies
EDGAR I know thee well: a serviceable 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 death’s-man. Let us see:
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies’ minds, we’ld rip their hearts;
Their papers, is more lawful.
Reads
‘Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have
many opportunities to cut him off: if your will
want not, time and place will be 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.’
O undistinguish’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’ll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death practised duke: for him ’tis well
That of thy death and business I can tell.
GLOUCESTER 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’d from my griefs,
And woes by wrong imaginations lose
The knowledge of themselves.
EDGAR Give me your hand:
Drum afar off
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum:
Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend.
Exeunt
Scene 7
A tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed asleep,
soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending.
Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor
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 me.
KENT To be acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid.
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 me, 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.
To the Doctor
How does the king?
Doctor Madam, sleeps still.
CORDELIA O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untuned and jarring senses, O, 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
I’ the sway of your own will. Is he array’d?
Gentleman Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his 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 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!
CORDELIA Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
To be opposed 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.
Doctor Madam, do you; ’tis fittest.
CORDELIA How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
KING 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 moulten lead.
CORDELIA Sir, do you know me?
KING 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.
KING LEAR Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abused. 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 assured
Of my condition!
CORDELIA O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o’er me:
No, sir, you must not kneel.
KING 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.
CORDELIA And so I am, I am.
KING 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.
KING LEAR Am I in France?
KENT In your own kingdom, sir.
KING LEAR Do not abuse me.
Doctor 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.
CORDELIA Will’t please your highness walk?
KING LEAR You must bear with me:
Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.
Exeunt all but KENT and Gentleman
Gentleman Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
KENT Most certain, sir.
Gentleman Who is conductor of his people?
KENT As ’tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.
Gentleman 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.
Gentleman 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 5
Scene 1
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 advised by aught
To change the course: he’s full of alteration
And self-reproving: bring his constant pleasure.
To a Gentleman, who goes out
REGAN Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.
EDMUND ‘Tis 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 forfended 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.