| ACT IV SCENE VI | Fields near Dover. | |
| | Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant | |
| GLOUCESTER | When shall we come to the top of that same hill? | |
| EDGAR | You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Methinks the ground is even. | |
| EDGAR | Horrible steep. | 5 |
| | Hark, do you hear the sea? | |
| GLOUCESTER | No, truly. | |
| EDGAR | Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect | |
| | By your eyes' anguish. | |
| GLOUCESTER | So may it be, indeed: | 10 |
| | Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st | |
| | In better phrase and matter than thou didst. | |
| EDGAR | You're much deceived: in nothing am I changed | |
| | But in my garments. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Methinks you're better spoken. | 15 |
| EDGAR | Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful | |
| | And dizzy 'tis, 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 samphire, dreadful trade! | 20 |
| | 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, | 25 |
| | That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, | |
| | Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more; | |
| | Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight | |
| | Topple down headlong. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Set me where you stand. | 30 |
| EDGAR | Give me your hand: you are now within a foot | |
| | Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon | |
| | Would I not leap upright. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Let go my hand. | |
| | Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel | 35 |
| | Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods | |
| | Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off; | |
| | Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. | |
| EDGAR | Now fare you well, good sir. | |
| GLOUCESTER | With all my heart. | 40 |
| EDGAR | Why I do trifle thus with his despair | |
| | Is done to cure it. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Kneeling | |
| | This world I do renounce, and, in your sights, | |
| | Shake patiently my great affliction off: | |
| | If I could bear it longer, and not fall | 45 |
| | To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, | |
| | My snuff and loathed part of nature should | |
| | Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! | |
| | Now, fellow, fare thee well. | |
| | He falls forward | |
| EDGAR | Gone, sir: farewell. | 50 |
| | And yet I know not how conceit may rob | |
| | The treasury of life, when life itself | |
| | Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought, | |
| | By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead? | |
| | Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak! | 55 |
| | Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives. | |
| | What are you, sir? | |
| GLOUCESTER | Away, and let me die. | |
| EDGAR | Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, | |
| | So many fathom down precipitating, | 60 |
| | Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe; | |
| | Hast 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 miracle. Speak yet again. | 65 |
| GLOUCESTER | But have I fall'n, or no? | |
| EDGAR | From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. | |
| | Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so far | |
| | Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Alack, I have no eyes. | 70 |
| | Is wretchedness deprived that benefit, | |
| | To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, | |
| | When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage, | |
| | And frustrate his proud will. | |
| EDGAR | Give me your arm: | 75 |
| | Up: so. How is 't? Feel you your legs? You stand. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Too well, too well. | |
| EDGAR | This is above all strangeness. | |
| | Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that | |
| | Which parted from you? | 80 |
| GLOUCESTER | 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 waved like the enridged sea: | |
| | It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father, | 85 |
| | Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours | |
| | Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee. | |
| GLOUCESTER | I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear | |
| | Affliction till it do cry out itself | |
| | 'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of, | 90 |
| | I took it for a man; often 'twould say | |
| | 'The fiend, the fiend:' he led me to that place. | |
| EDGAR | Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here? | |
| | Enter KING LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers | |
| | The safer sense will ne'er accommodate | |
| | His master thus. | 95 |
| KING LEAR | No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the | |
| | king himself. | |
| EDGAR | O thou side-piercing sight! | |
| KING LEAR | Nature's above art in that respect. There's your | |
| | press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a | 100 |
| | 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. O, well | |
| | flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh! | 105 |
| | Give the word. | |
| EDGAR | Sweet marjoram. | |
| KING LEAR | Pass. | |
| GLOUCESTER | I know that voice. | |
| KING LEAR | Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! They flattered | 110 |
| | 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 divinity. When the rain came to | |
| | wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when | 115 |
| | 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; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof. | |
| GLOUCESTER | The trick of that voice I do well remember: | 120 |
| | Is 't not the king? | |
| 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: | 125 |
| | The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly | |
| | Does lecher in my sight. | |
| | Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son | |
| | Was kinder to his father than my daughters | |
| | Got 'tween the lawful sheets. | 130 |
| | To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers. | |
| | Behold yond simpering dame, | |
| | Whose face between her forks presages snow; | |
| | That minces virtue, and does shake the head | |
| | To hear of pleasure's name; | 135 |
| | The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't | |
| | With a more riotous appetite. | |
| | Down from the waist they are Centaurs, | |
| | Though women all above: | |
| | But to the girdle do the gods inherit, | 140 |
| | Beneath is all the fiends'; | |
| | There's hell, there's darkness, there's the | |
| | sulphurous pit, | |
| | Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, | |
| | fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, | 145 |
| | good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: | |
| | there's money for thee. | |
| GLOUCESTER | O, let me kiss that hand! | |
| KING LEAR | Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. | |
| GLOUCESTER | O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world | 150 |
| | Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me? | |
| KING LEAR | I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny | |
| | at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not | |
| | love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the | |
| | penning of it. | 155 |
| GLOUCESTER | Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. | |
| EDGAR | I would not take this from report; it is, | |
| | And my heart breaks at it. | |
| KING LEAR | Read. | |
| GLOUCESTER | What, with the case of eyes? | 160 |
| KING LEAR | O, 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. | |
| GLOUCESTER | I see it feelingly. | 165 |
| KING 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: change places; and, handy-dandy, which | |
| | is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen | 170 |
| | a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? | |
| GLOUCESTER | Ay, sir. | |
| KING LEAR | And the creature run from the cur? There thou | |
| | mightst behold the great image of authority: a | |
| | dog's obeyed in office. | 175 |
| | Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! | |
| | Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; | |
| | Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind | |
| | For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. | |
| | Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; | 180 |
| | 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'll able 'em: | |
| | Take that of me, my friend, who have the power | 185 |
| | 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 | O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness! | 190 |
| KING LEAR | If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. | |
| | I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester: | |
| | 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. | 195 |
| GLOUCESTER | Alack, alack the day! | |
| KING LEAR | When we are born, we cry that we 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'll put 't in proof; | 200 |
| | And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law, | |
| | Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! | |
| | Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants | |
| Gentleman | O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir, | |
| | Your most dear daughter-- | |
| KING LEAR | No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even | 205 |
| | 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 any thing. | |
| KING LEAR | No seconds? all myself? | 210 |
| | 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,-- | |
| KING LEAR | I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What! | 215 |
| | 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. | |
| KING LEAR | Then there's life in't. Nay, if you get it, you | |
| | shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. | 220 |
| | Exit running; Attendants follow | |
| 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. | 225 |
| 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. | |
| EDGAR | But, by your favour, | 230 |
| | 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, | 235 |
| | Her army is moved on. | |
| EDGAR | I thank you, sir. | |
| | Exit Gentleman | |
| GLOUCESTER | You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me: | |
| | Let not my worser spirit tempt me again | |
| | To die before you please! | 240 |
| 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 sorrows, | |
| | Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, | 245 |
| | I'll lead you to some biding. | |
| GLOUCESTER | Hearty thanks: | |
| | The bounty and the benison of heaven | |
| | To boot, and boot! | |
| | Enter OSWALD | |
| OSWALD | A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! | 250 |
| | 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 | 255 |
| | 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. | 260 |
| 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. | 265 |
| | 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 | 270 |
| | 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 | 275 |
| | 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? | 280 |
| 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: | 285 |
| | 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. | 290 |
| | 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-- | 295 |
| | '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, | 300 |
| | 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. | 305 |
| 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 | 310 |
| | 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 | |