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Home  »  King Lear  »  Act IV

William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Denmark.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Scene VI

Act IV

[Fields near Dover]
Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR [dressed like a peasant]

Glou.When shall I come to the top of that same hill?Edg.You do climb up it now; look, how we labour.Glou.Methinks the ground is even.Edg.Horrible steep.Hark, do you hear the sea?Glou.No, truly.Edg.Why, then, your other senses grow imperfectBy your eyes’ anguish.Glou.So may it be, indeed.Methinks thy voice is alter’d, and thou speak’stIn better phrase and matter than thou didst.Edg.You’re much deceiv’d. In nothing am I chang’dBut in my garments.Glou.Methinks you’re better spoken.Edg.Come on, sir, here’s the place; stand still. How fearfulAnd dizzy ’tis, to cast one’s eyes so low!The crows and choughs that wing the midway airShow scarce so gross as beetles. Half way downHangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!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 buoyAlmost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,That on the unnumb’red idle pebbles chafes,Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more,Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sightTopple down headlong.Glou.Set me where you stand.Edg.Give me your hand; you are now within a footOf the extreme verge. For all beneath the moonWould I not leap upright.Glou.Let go my hand.Here, friend, ’s another purse; in it a jewelWell worth a poor man’s taking. Fairies and godsProsper it with thee! Go thou further off;Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.Edg.Now fare ye well, good sir.Glou.With all my heart.Edg.Why I do trifle thus with his despairIs done to cure it.Glou.[Kneeling.]O you mighty gods!This world I do renounce, and in your sightsShake patiently my great affliction off.If I could bear it longer, and not fallTo quarrel with your great opposeless wills,My snuff and loathed part of nature shouldBurn itself out. If Edgar live, O bless him!Now, fellow, fare thee well.Edg.Gone, sir; farewell!—And yet I know not how conceit may robThe treasury of life, when life itselfYields to the theft. [GLOU. throws himself forward.] Had he been where he thought,By this had thought been past. Alive or dead?—Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak!—Thus might he pass indeed; yet he revives.—What are you, sir?Glou.Away, and let me die.Edg.Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,So many fathom down precipitating,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 altitudeWhich thou hast perpendicularly fell.Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again.Glou.But have I fallen, or no?Edg.From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.Look up a-height; the shrill-gorg’d lark so farCannot be seen or heard. Do but look up.Glou.Alack, I have no eyes.Is wretchedness depriv’d that benefit,To end itself by death? ’Twas yet some comfort,When misery could beguile the tyrant’s rage,And frustrate his proud will.Edg.Give me your arm.Up: so. How is ’t? Feel you your legs? You stand.Glou.Too well, too well.Edg.This is above all strangeness.Upon the crown o’ the cliff, what thing was thatWhich parted from you?Glou.A poor unfortunate beggar.Edg.As I stood here below, methought his eyesWere 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,Think that the clearest gods, who make them honoursOf men’s impossibilities, have preserv’d thee.Glou.I do remember now. Henceforth I’ll bearAffliction till it do cry out itself,“Enough, enough,” and die. That thing you speak of,I took it for a man; often ’twould say,“The fiend, the fiend!” He led me to that place.Edg.Bear free and patient thoughts.
Enter LEAR [fantastically dressed with wild flowers]

But who comes here?The safer sense will ne’er accommodateHis master thus.Lear.No, they cannot touch me for coining;I am the King himself.Edg.O thou side-piercing sight!Lear.Nature’s above art in that respect. There’s your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a 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! Give the word.Edg.Sweet marjoram.Lear.Pass.Glou.I know that voice.Lear.Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! They flatter’d me like a dog, and told me I had the white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say “ay” and “no” to everything 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 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 everything; ’tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.Glou.The trick of that voice I do well remember.Is ’t not the 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:The wren goes to ’t, and the small gilded flyDoes lecher in my sight.Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester’s bastard sonWas kinder to his father than my daughtersGot ’tween the lawful sheets.To ’t, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.Behold yond simp’ring dame,Whose face between her forks presages snow,That minces virtue, and does shake the headTo hear of pleasure’s name,—The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to ’tWith a more riotous appetite.Down from the waist they are Centaurs,Though women all above;But to the girdle do the gods inherit,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; good apothecary, sweeten my imagination.There’s money for thee.Glou.O, let me kiss that hand!Lear.Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.Glou.O ruin’d piece of nature! This great worldShall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me?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.Glou.Were all thy letters suns, I could not see.Edg.[Aside.]I would not take this from report. It is; and my heart breaks at it.Lear.Read.Glou.What, with the case of eyes?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.Glou.I see it feelingly.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 has seen a farmer’s dog bark at a beggar?Glou.Ay, sir.Lear.And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog’s obey’d in office.

Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thy own back;Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kindFor which thou whip’st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.Through tatter’d clothes great vices do appear;Robes and furr’d gowns hide all. Plate sins 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 powerTo seal the accuser’s lips. Get thee glass eyes,And, like a scurvy politician, seemTo see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now.Pull off my boots; harder, harder: so.Edg.O, matter and impertinency mix’d!Reason in madness!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.Glou.Alack, alack the day!Lear.When we are born, we cry that we are comeTo this great stage of fools.—This a good block.It were a delicate stratagem, to shoeA troop of horse with felt. I’ll put ’t in proof;And when I have stol’n upon these son-in-laws,Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!
Enter a Gentleman [with Attendants]

Gent.O, here he is! Lay hand upon him. Sir,Your most dear daughter—Lear.No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am evenThe natural fool of fortune. Use me well;You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons;I am cut to the brains.Gent.You shall have anything.Lear.No seconds? All myself?Why, this would make a man a man of salt,To use his eyes for garden water-pots,[Ay, and laying autumn’s dust.Gent.Good sir,—]Lear.I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What! I will be jovial. Come, come; I am a king,

My masters, know you that?Gent.You are a royal one, and we obey you.Lear.Then there’s life in ’t. Come, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.Exit [running; Attendants follow].Gent.A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughterWho redeems Nature from the general curseWhich twain have brought her to.Edg.Hail, gentle sir.Gent.Sir, speed you: what’s your will?Edg.Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?Gent.Most sure and vulgar; every one hears that,Which can distinguish sound.Edg.But, by your favour,How near’s the other army?Gent.Near and on speedy foot; the main descryStands on the hourly thought.Edg.I thank you, sir; that’s all.Gent.Though that the Queen on special cause is here,Her army is mov’d on.Exit.Edg.I thank you, sir.Glou.You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;Let not my worser spirit tempt me againTo die before you please!Edg.Well pray you, father.Glou.Now, good sir, what are you?Edg.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,I’ll lead you to some biding.Glou.Hearty thanks;The bounty and the benison of HeavenTo boot, and boot!
Enter Steward [OSWALD]

Osw.A proclaim’d prize! Most happy!That eyeless head of thine was first fram’d fleshTo raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,Briefly thyself remember; the sword is outThat must destroy thee.Glou.Now let thy friendly handPut strength enough to ’t.[EDGAR interposes.]Osw.Wherefore, bold peasant,Dar’st thou support a publish’d traitor? Hence;Lest that the infection of his fortune takeLike hold on thee. Let go his arm.Edg.’Chill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion.Osw.Let go, slave, or thou diest!Edg.Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. An ’chud ha’ bin zwagger’d out of my life, ’t would 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. ’Chill be plain with you.Osw.Out, dunghill!Edg.’Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come, no matter vor your foins.[They fight, and EDGAR knocks him down.]Osw.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 meTo Edmund, Earl of Gloucester; seek him outUpon the English party. O, untimely death!Death!Dies.Edg.I know thee well; a serviceable villain,As duteous to the vices of thy mistressAs badness would desire.Glou.What, is he dead?Edg.Sit you down, father; rest you.Let’s see these pockets; the letters that he speaks ofMay be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorryHe had no other death’s-man. Let us see.Leave, 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 rememb’red. You have many opportunities to cut him off; if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer’d. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror; then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.
“Your—wife, so I would say—
“Affectionate servant,

“GONERIL.”
O indistinguish’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 unsanctifiedOf murderous lechers; and in the mature timeWith this ungracious paper strike the sightOf the death-practis’d duke. For him ’tis wellThat of thy death and business I can tell.Glou.The King is mad; how stiff is my vile senseThat I stand up and have ingenious feelingOf my huge sorrows! Better I were distract;So should my thoughts be sever’d from my griefs,Drum afar off.And woes by wrong imaginations loseThe knowledge of themselves.Edg.Give me your hand.Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend.Exeunt.