Contents
-BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Denmark.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Scene IV
Act II
[The same]
Enter LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman. [KENT in the stocks]
Lear.’Tis strange that they should so depart from home,And not send back my messengers.Gent.As I learn’d,The night before there was no purpose in themOf this remove.Kent.Hail to thee, noble master!Lear.Ha!Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime?Kent.No, my lord.Fool.Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs. When a man’s over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks.Lear.What’s he that hath so much thy place mistookTo set thee here?Kent.It is both he and she;Your son and daughter.Lear.No.Kent.Yes.Lear.No, I say,Kent.I say, yea.[Lear.No, no, they would not.Kent.Yes, they have.]Lear.By Jupiter, I swear, no.Kent.By Juno, I swear, ay.Lear.They durst not do ’t;They could not, would not do ’t. ’Tis worse than murder,To do upon respect such violent outrage.Resolve me, with all modest haste, which wayThou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage,Coming from us.Kent.My lord, when at their homeI did commend your Highness’ letters to them,Ere I was risen from the place that show’dMy duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,Stew’d in his haste, half breathless, panting forthFrom Goneril, his mistress, salutations;Deliver’d letters, spite of intermission,Which presently they read. On those contents,They summon’d up their meiny, straight took horse;Commanded me to follow, and attendThe leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:And meeting here the other messenger,Whose welcome, I perceiv’d, had poison’d mine,—Being the very fellow which of lateDisplay’d so saucily against your Highness,—Having more man than wit about me, drew.He rais’d the house with loud and coward cries.Your son and daughter found this trespass worthThe shame which here it suffers.Fool.Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.“Fathers that wear ragsDo make their children blind;But fathers that bear bagsShall see their children kind.Fortune, that arrant whore,Ne’er turns the key to the poor.”But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughtersas thou canst tell in a year.Lear.O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow,Thy element’s below!—Where is this daughter?Kent.With the Earl, sir, here within.Lear.Follow me not;Stay here.Exit.Gent.Made you no more offence but what you speak of?Kent.None.How chance the King comes with so small a number?Fool.An thou hadst been set i’ the stocks for that question, thou’dst well deserv’d it.Kent.Why, Fool?Fool.We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there’s no labouring i’ the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and there’s not a nose among twenty but can smell him that’s stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again; I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.“That sir which serves and seeks for gain,And follows but for form,Will pack when it begins to rain,And leave thee in the storm.But I will tarry; the Fool will stay,And let the wise man fly.The knave turns fool that runs away;The Fool no knave, perdy.”Re-enter LEAR and GLOUCESTER
Kent.Where learn’d you this, Fool?Fool.Not i’ the stocks, fool.Lear.Deny to speak with me? They are sick? They are weary?They have travell’d all the night? Mere fetches;The images of revolt and flying off.Fetch me a better answer.Glou.My dear lord,You know the fiery quality of the Duke;How unremovable and fix’d he isIn his own course.Lear.Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!“Fiery”? What “quality”? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.Glou.Well, my good lord, I have inform’d them so.Lear.“Inform’d” them! Dost thou understand me, man?Glou.Ay, my good lord.Lear.The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear fatherWould with his daughter speak, commands her service.Are they “inform’d” of this? My breath and blood!“Fiery”? The fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that—No, but not yet; may be he is not well.Infirmity doth still neglect all officeWhereto our health is bound; we are not ourselvesWhen nature, being oppress’d, commands the mindTo suffer with the body. I’ll forbear;And am fallen out with my more headier will,To take the indispos’d and sickly fitFor the sound man.—Death on my state! wherefore[Looking on KENT.]Should he sit here? This act persuades meThat this remotion of the Duke and herIs practice only. Give me my servant forth.Go tell the Duke and ’s wife I’d speak with them,Now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me,Or at their chamber-door I’ll beat the drumTill it cry sleep to death.Exit.Glou.I would have all well betwixt you.Lear.O me, my heart, my rising heart! But, down!Fool.Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ’em i’ the paste alive; she knapp’d ’em o’ the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, “Down, wantons, down!” ’Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants
Lear.Good morrow to you both.Corn.Hail to your Grace!KENT is set at liberty.Reg.I am glad to see your Highness.Lear.Regan, I think you are; I know what reasonI have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad,I would divorce me from thy mother’s tomb,Sepulchring an adulteress. [To KENT.] O, are you free?Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,Thy sister’s naught. O Regan, she hath tiedSharp-tooth’d unkindness, like a vulture, here.[Points to his heart.]I can scarce speak to thee; thou’lt not believeWith how deprav’d a quality—O Regan!Reg.I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope You less know how to value her desert Than she to scant her duty.Lear.Say, how is that?Reg.I cannot think my sister in the least Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance She have restrain’d the riots of your followers, ’Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As clears her from all blame.Lear.My curses on her!Reg.O, sir, you are old;Nature in you stands on the very vergeOf her confine. You should be rul’d and ledBy some discretion that discerns your stateBetter than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,That to our sister you do make return;Say you have wrong’d her, sir.Lear.Ask her forgiveness?Do you but mark how this becomes the house:“Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;[Kneeling.]Age is unnecessary. On my knees I begThat you’ll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.”Reg.Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks.Return you to my sister.Lear.[Rising.]Never, Regan:She hath abated me of half my train;Look’d black upon me; struck me with her tongue,Most serpent-like, upon the very heart.All the stor’d vengeances of heaven fallOn her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,You taking airs, with lameness!Corn.Fie, sir, fie!Lear.You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flamesInto her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,You fen-suck’d fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,To fall and blast her pride!Reg.O the blest gods! so will you wish on me,When the rash mood is on.Lear.No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse.Thy tender-hefted nature shall not giveThee o’er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thineDo comfort and not burn. ’Tis not in theeTo grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,And, in conclusion, to oppose the boltAgainst my coming in. Thou better know’The offices of nature, bond of childhood,Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude.Thy half o’ the kingdom hast thou not forgot,Wherein I thee endow’d.Reg.Good sir, to the purpose.Tucket withinLear.Who put my man i’ the stocks?Enter Steward [OSWALD]
Corn.What trumpet’s that?Reg.I know ’t; my sister’s. This approves her letter,That she would soon be here. [To OSWALD.] Is your lady come?Lear.This is a slave whose easy-borrowed prideDwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.Out, varlet, from my sight!Corn.What means your Grace?Enter GONERIL
Lear.Who stock’d my servant? Regan, I have good hopeThou didst not know on ’t. Who comes here? O heavens,If you do love old men, if your sweet swayAllow obedience, if you yourselves are old,Make it your cause; send down, and take my part![To GON.] Art not asham’d to look upon this beard?O Regan, will you take her by the hand?Gon.Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?All’s not offence that indiscretion findsAnd dotage terms so.Lear.O sides, you are too tough;Will you yet hold? How came my man i’ the stocks?Corn.I set him there, sir; but his own disordersDeserv’d much less advancement.Lear.You! did you?Reg.I pray you, father, being weak, seem soIf, till the expiration of your month,You will return and sojourn with my sister,Dismissing half your train, come then to me.I am now from home, and out of that provisionWhich shall be needful for your entertainment.Lear.Return to her, and fifty men dismiss’d!No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chooseTo wage against the enmity o’ the air;To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,—Necessity’s sharp pinch. Return with her?Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless tookOur youngest born, I could as well be broughtTo knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension begTo keep base life afoot. Return with her?Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpterTo this detested groom.[Pointing at OSWALD.]Gon.At your choice, sir.Lear.I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad;I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell!We’ll no more meet, no more see one another.But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;Or rather a disease that’s in my flesh,Which I must needs call mine; thou art a boil,A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,In my corrupted blood. But I’ll not chide thee;Let shame come when it will, I do not call it.I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure.I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,I and my hundred knights.Reg.Not altogether so;I look’d not for you yet, nor am providedFor your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;For be content to think you old, and so—But she knows what she does.Lear.Is this well spoken?Reg.I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers!Is it not well? What should you need of more?Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and dangerSpeak ’gainst so great a number? How, in one house,Should many people, under two commands,Hold amity? ’Tis hard; almost impossible.Gon.Why might not you, my lord, receive attendanceFrom those that she calls servants or from mine?Reg.Why not, my lord? If then they chanc’d to slack ye,We could control them. If you will come to me,—For now I spy a danger—I entreat youTo bring but five and twenty; to no moreWill I give place or notice.Lear.I gave you all.Reg.And in good time you gave it.Lear.Made you my guardians, my depositaries;But kept a reservation to be followedWith such a number. What, must I come to youWith five and twenty, Regan? Said you so?Reg.And speak ’t again, my lord; no more with me.Lear.Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour’dWhen others are more wicked; not being the worstStands in some rank of praise. [To GON.] I’ll go with thee.Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,And thou art twice her love. 