| ACT III SCENE IV | The heath. Before a hovel. | |
| [Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool] |
| KENT | Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: |
| The tyranny of the open night's too rough |
| For nature to endure. |
| [Storm still] |
| KING LEAR | Let me alone. |
| KENT | Good my lord, enter here. | 5 |
| KING LEAR | Wilt break my heart? |
| KENT | I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. |
| KING LEAR | Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm |
| Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee; |
| But where the greater malady is fix'd, | 10 |
| The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'ldst shun a bear; |
| But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, |
| Thou'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the |
| mind's free, |
| The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind | 15 |
| Doth from my senses take all feeling else |
| Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! |
| Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand |
| For lifting food to't? But I will punish home: |
| No, I will weep no more. In such a night | 20 |
| To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure. |
| In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! |
| Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,-- |
| O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; |
| No more of that. | 25 |
| KENT | Good my lord, enter here. |
| KING LEAR | Prithee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease: |
| This tempest will not give me leave to ponder |
| On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in. |
[To the Fool] |
| In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,-- | 30 |
| Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. |
[Fool goes in] |
| Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are, |
| That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, |
| How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, |
| Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you | 35 |
| From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en |
| Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; |
| Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, |
| That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, |
| And show the heavens more just. | 40 |
| EDGAR | [Within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!
|
| [The Fool runs out from the hovel] |
| Fool | Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit |
| Help me, help me! |
| KENT | Give me thy hand. Who's there? |
| Fool | A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom. | 45 |
| KENT | What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw? |
| Come forth. |
| [Enter EDGAR disguised as a mad man] |
| EDGAR | Away! the foul fiend follows me! |
| Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. |
| Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. | 50 |
| KING LEAR | Hast thou given all to thy two daughters? |
| And art thou come to this? |
| EDGAR | Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul |
| fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and |
| through ford and whirlipool e'er bog and quagmire; | 55 |
| that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters |
| in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made film |
| proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over |
| four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a |
| traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold,--O, do | 60 |
| de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, |
| star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some |
| charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I |
| have him now,--and there,--and there again, and there. |
| [Storm still] |
| KING LEAR | What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? | 65 |
| Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all? |
| Fool | Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. |
| KING LEAR | Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air |
| Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! |
| KENT | He hath no daughters, sir. | 70 |
| KING LEAR | Death, traitor! nothing could have subdued nature |
| To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. |
| Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers |
| Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? |
| Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot | 75 |
| Those pelican daughters. |
| EDGAR | Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill: |
| Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! |
| Fool | This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. |
| EDGAR | Take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents; | 80 |
| keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with |
| man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud |
| array. Tom's a-cold. |
| KING LEAR | What hast thou been? |
| EDGAR | A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled | 85 |
| my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of |
| my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with |
| her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and |
| broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that |
| slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it: | 90 |
| wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman |
| out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of |
| ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, |
| wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. |
| Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of | 95 |
| silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot |
| out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen |
| from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. |
| Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: |
| Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny. | 100 |
| Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by. |
| [Storm still] |
| KING LEAR | Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer |
| with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. |
| Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou |
| owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep | 105 |
| no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on |
| 's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself: |
| unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare, |
| forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! |
| come unbutton here. | 110 |
| [Tearing off his clothes] |
| Fool | Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night |
| to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were |
| like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the |
| rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire. |
| [Enter GLOUCESTER, with a torch] |
| EDGAR | This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins | 115 |
| at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives |
| the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the |
| hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the |
| poor creature of earth. |
| S. Withold footed thrice the old; | 120 |
| He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold; |
| Bid her alight, |
| And her troth plight, |
| And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! |
| KENT | How fares your grace? | 125 |
| KING LEAR | What's he? |
| KENT | Who's there? What is't you seek? |
| GLOUCESTER | What are you there? Your names? |
| EDGAR | Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, |
| the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in | 130 |
| the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, |
| eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and |
| the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the |
| standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to |
| tithing, and stock- punished, and imprisoned; who | 135 |
| hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his |
| body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear; |
| But mice and rats, and such small deer, |
| Have been Tom's food for seven long year. |
| Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend! | 140 |
| GLOUCESTER | What, hath your grace no better company? |
| EDGAR | The prince of darkness is a gentleman: |
| Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. |
| GLOUCESTER | Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord, |
| That it doth hate what gets it. | 145 |
| EDGAR | Poor Tom's a-cold. |
| GLOUCESTER | Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer |
| To obey in all your daughters' hard commands: |
| Though their injunction be to bar my doors, |
| And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, | 150 |
| Yet have I ventured to come seek you out, |
| And bring you where both fire and food is ready. |
| KING LEAR | First let me talk with this philosopher. |
| What is the cause of thunder? |
| KENT | Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house. | 155 |
| KING LEAR | I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban. |
| What is your study? |
| EDGAR | How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. |
| KING LEAR | Let me ask you one word in private. |
| KENT | Importune him once more to go, my lord; | 160 |
| His wits begin to unsettle. |
| GLOUCESTER | Canst thou blame him? |
[Storm still] |
| His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent! |
| He said it would be thus, poor banish'd man! |
| Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, | 165 |
| I am almost mad myself: I had a son, |
| Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life, |
| But lately, very late: I loved him, friend; |
| No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee, |
| The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this! | 170 |
| I do beseech your grace,-- |
| KING LEAR | O, cry your mercy, sir. |
| Noble philosopher, your company. |
| EDGAR | Tom's a-cold. |
| GLOUCESTER | In, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee warm. | 175 |
| KING LEAR | Come let's in all. |
| KENT | This way, my lord. |
| KING LEAR | With him; |
| I will keep still with my philosopher. |
| KENT | Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow. | 180 |
| GLOUCESTER | Take him you on. |
| KENT | Sirrah, come on; go along with us. |
| KING LEAR | Come, good Athenian. |
| GLOUCESTER | No words, no words: hush. |
| EDGAR | Child Rowland to the dark tower came, | 185 |
| His word was still,--Fie, foh, and fum, |
| I smell the blood of a British man. |
| [Exeunt] |
King Lear Overview