 | King Lear |  |
SCENE, a Prison.
Lear asleep, with his head on Cordelia's Lap.
Cord.
What toils, thou wretched king, hast thou endur'd,
To make thee draw, in chains, a sleep so sound?
Thy better angel charm thy ravish'd mind
With fancy'd freedom; peace is us'd to lodge
On cottage straw. Thou hast the beggar's bed,
Therefore, should'st have the beggar's careless thought,
And now, my Edgar, I remember thee:
What fate has seiz'd thee, in this general wreck,
I know not; but I know thou must be wretched,
Because Cordelia holds thee dear.
O Gods! a sudden gloom o'erwhelms me, and the image
Of death o'erspreads the place.—Ha! Who are these?
Enter Captain and Soldiers, with Cords.
Capt.
Now, sirs, dispatch; already you are paid
In part, the best of your reward's to come.
Lear.
Charge, charge upon their flank, their left wing halts.
Push, push the battle, and the day's our own.
Their ranks are broken; down, down with Albany.
Who holds my hands?—O thou, deceiving sleep,
I was this very minute on the chace,
And now, a pris'ner here!—What mean the slaves?
You will not murder me?
Cord.
Help, earth and Heaven!
For your souls sake, dear sirs, and for the Gods.
Offi.
No tears, good lady; no pleading against gold, and preferment.
Come, sirs, make ready your cords.
Cord.
You, sir, I'll seize;
You have a human form, and if no prayers
Can touch your soul, to spare a poor king's life,
If there be any thing that you hold dear,
By that I beg you to dispatch me first.
Capt.
Comply with her request; dispatch her first.
Lear.
Off, hell-hounds; by the Gods I charge you spare her;
'Tis my Cordelia, my true pious daughter.
No pity?—Nay, then take an old man's vengeance.
Snatches a Sword, and kills two of them; the rest quit Cordelia, and Exeunt.
Enter, Edgar, Albany, and Attendants.
Edg.
Death! hell! ye vultures, hold your impious hands,
Or take a speedier death than you would give.
Capt.
By whose command?
Edg.
Behold the duke, your lord.
Alb.
Guards, seize those instruments of cruelty.
Cord.
Oh, my Edgar!
Edg.
My dear Cordelia! Lucky was the minute
Of our approach; the Gods have weigh'd our suff'rings;
W' have pass'd the fire, and now must shine to ages.
Gent.
Look here, my lord, see where the generous king
Has slain two of 'em.
Lear.
Did I not, fellow?
I've seen the day, with my good biting faulchion
I cou'd have made 'em skip: I am old now,
And these vile crosses spoil me; out of breath!
Fie, oh! quite out of breath, and spent.
Alb.
Bring in old Kent; and, Edgar, guide you hither
Your father, whom you said was near;
[Exit Edgar.
He may be an ear-witness, at the least,
Of our proceedings.
[Kent brought in here.
Lear.
Who are you?
My eyes are none o'th' best, I'll tell you straight:
Oh, Albany! Well, sir, we are your captives,
And you are come to see death pass upon us.
Why this delay?—Or, is't your highness' pleasure
To give us first the torture? Say ye so?
Why here's old Kent and I, as tough a pair
As e'er bore tyrant's stroke.—But, my Cordelia,
My poor Cordelia here, O pity—
Alb.
Thou injur'd majesty,
The wheel of fortune now has made her circle,
And blessings yet stand 'twixt thy grave and thee.
Lear.
Com'st thou, inhuman lord, to sooth us back
To a fool's paradise of hope, to make
Our doom more wretched? Go to, we are too well
Acquainted with misfortune, to be gull'd
With lying hope; no, we will hope no more.
Alb.
I have a tale t'unfold, so full of wonder,
As cannot meet an easy faith;
But by that royal injur'd head, 'tis true.
Kent.
What wou'd your highness?
Alb.
Know, the noble Edgar
Impeach'd lord Edmund, since the fight, of treason,
And dar'd him, for the proof, to single combat,
In which the Gods confirm'd his charge by conquest;
I left ev'n now the traitor wounded mortally.
Lear.
And whither tends this story?
Alb.
Ere they fought,
Lord Edgar gave into my hands this paper;
A blacker scroll of treason and of lust,
Than can be found in the records of hell.
There, sacred sir, behold the character
Of Goneril, the worst of daughters, but
More vicious wife.
Cord.
Cou'd there be yet addition to their guilt!
What would not they who wrong a father do?
Alb.
Since then my injuries, Lear, fall in with thine,
I have resolv'd the same redress for both.
Kent.
What says my lord?
Cord.
Speak, for methought I heard
The charming voice of a descending God.
Alb.
The troops, by Edmund rais'd, I have disbanded;
Those that remain, are under my command.
What comfort may be brought to chear your age,
And heal your savage wrongs, shall be apply'd;
For to your majesty we do resign
Your kingdom, save what part yourself confer'd,
On us in marriage.
Kent.
Hear you that, my liege?
Cord.
Then there are Gods, and virtue is their care.
Lear.
Is't possible?
Let the spheres stop their course, the sun make halt,
The winds be hush'd, the seas and fountains rest;
All nature pause, and listen to the change.
Where is my Kent, my Caius?
Kent.
Here, my liege.
Lear.
Why I have news that will recall thy youth.
Ha! didst thou hear't, or did th' inspiring Gods
Whisper to me alone? Old Lear shall be
A king again.
Kent.
The prince, that like a God has pow'r, has said it.
Lear.
Cordelia then shall be a queen, mark that:
Cordelia, shall be queen. Winds, catch the sound,
And bear it on your rosy wings to heav'n—
Cordelia is a queen.
Re-enter Edgar with Gloster.
Alb.
Look, sir, where pious Edgar comes,
Leading his eyeless father. O my liege!
His wond'rous story well deserves your leisure;
What he has done and suffer'd for your sake,
What for the fair Cordelia's.
Glo.
Where's my liege? Conduct me to his knees, to hail
His second birth of empire: my dear Edgar
Has with himself reveal'd the king's blest restauration.
Lear.
My poor dark Gloster!
Glo.
O let me kiss that once more scepter'd hand!
Lear.
Hold, thou mistak'st the majesty: kneel here;
Cordelia has our pow'r, Cordelia's queen.
Speak, is not that the noble suff'ring Edgar?
Glo.
My pious son, more dear than my lost eyes.
Lear.
I wrong'd him too, but here's the fair amends.
Edg.
Your leave, my liege, for an unwelcome message.
Edmund (but that's a trifle) is expir'd.
What more will touch you, your imperious daughters,
Goneril, and haughty Regan, both are dead,
Each by the other poison'd at a banquet:
This, dying, they confess'd.
Cord.
O fatal period of ill-govern'd life!
Lear.
Ingrateful as they were, my heart feels yet
A pang of nature for their wretched fall.—
But, Edgar, I defer thy joys too long:
Thou serv'dst distress'd Cordelia; take her, crown'd,
Th' imperial grace fresh blooming on her brow:
Nay, Gloster, thou hast here a father's right,
Thy helping hand t'heap blessings on their heads
Kent.
Old Kent throws in his hearty wishes too.
Edg.
The Gods and you too largely recompense
What I have done; the gift strikes merit dumb.
Cord.
Nor do I blush to own myself o'er paid,
For all my suff'rings past.
Glo.
Now, gentle Gods, give Gloster his discharge.
Lear.
No, Gloster, thou hast business yet for life;
Thou, Kent, and I, retir'd from noise and strife,
Will calmly pass our short reserves of time,
In cool reflections on our fortunes past,
Cheer'd with relation of the prosp'rous reign,
Of this celestial pair; thus our remains
Shall in an even course of thoughts be past,
Enjoy the present hour, nor fear the last.
[Ex. Omnes.
Lear asleep, with his head on Cordelia's Lap.
Cord.
What toils, thou wretched king, hast thou endur'd,
To make thee draw, in chains, a sleep so sound?
Thy better angel charm thy ravish'd mind
With fancy'd freedom; peace is us'd to lodge
On cottage straw. Thou hast the beggar's bed,
Therefore, should'st have the beggar's careless thought,
And now, my Edgar, I remember thee:
What fate has seiz'd thee, in this general wreck,
76
Because Cordelia holds thee dear.
O Gods! a sudden gloom o'erwhelms me, and the image
Of death o'erspreads the place.—Ha! Who are these?
Enter Captain and Soldiers, with Cords.
Capt.
Now, sirs, dispatch; already you are paid
In part, the best of your reward's to come.
Lear.
Charge, charge upon their flank, their left wing halts.
Push, push the battle, and the day's our own.
Their ranks are broken; down, down with Albany.
Who holds my hands?—O thou, deceiving sleep,
I was this very minute on the chace,
And now, a pris'ner here!—What mean the slaves?
You will not murder me?
Cord.
Help, earth and Heaven!
For your souls sake, dear sirs, and for the Gods.
Offi.
No tears, good lady; no pleading against gold, and preferment.
Come, sirs, make ready your cords.
Cord.
You, sir, I'll seize;
You have a human form, and if no prayers
Can touch your soul, to spare a poor king's life,
If there be any thing that you hold dear,
By that I beg you to dispatch me first.
Capt.
Comply with her request; dispatch her first.
Lear.
Off, hell-hounds; by the Gods I charge you spare her;
'Tis my Cordelia, my true pious daughter.
No pity?—Nay, then take an old man's vengeance.
Snatches a Sword, and kills two of them; the rest quit Cordelia, and Exeunt.
Enter, Edgar, Albany, and Attendants.
Edg.
Death! hell! ye vultures, hold your impious hands,
77
Capt.
By whose command?
Edg.
Behold the duke, your lord.
Alb.
Guards, seize those instruments of cruelty.
Cord.
Oh, my Edgar!
Edg.
My dear Cordelia! Lucky was the minute
Of our approach; the Gods have weigh'd our suff'rings;
W' have pass'd the fire, and now must shine to ages.
Gent.
Look here, my lord, see where the generous king
Has slain two of 'em.
Lear.
Did I not, fellow?
I've seen the day, with my good biting faulchion
I cou'd have made 'em skip: I am old now,
And these vile crosses spoil me; out of breath!
Fie, oh! quite out of breath, and spent.
Alb.
Bring in old Kent; and, Edgar, guide you hither
Your father, whom you said was near;
[Exit Edgar.
He may be an ear-witness, at the least,
Of our proceedings.
[Kent brought in here.
Lear.
Who are you?
My eyes are none o'th' best, I'll tell you straight:
Oh, Albany! Well, sir, we are your captives,
And you are come to see death pass upon us.
Why this delay?—Or, is't your highness' pleasure
To give us first the torture? Say ye so?
Why here's old Kent and I, as tough a pair
As e'er bore tyrant's stroke.—But, my Cordelia,
My poor Cordelia here, O pity—
Alb.
Thou injur'd majesty,
The wheel of fortune now has made her circle,
And blessings yet stand 'twixt thy grave and thee.
Lear.
Com'st thou, inhuman lord, to sooth us back
78
Our doom more wretched? Go to, we are too well
Acquainted with misfortune, to be gull'd
With lying hope; no, we will hope no more.
Alb.
I have a tale t'unfold, so full of wonder,
As cannot meet an easy faith;
But by that royal injur'd head, 'tis true.
Kent.
What wou'd your highness?
Alb.
Know, the noble Edgar
Impeach'd lord Edmund, since the fight, of treason,
And dar'd him, for the proof, to single combat,
In which the Gods confirm'd his charge by conquest;
I left ev'n now the traitor wounded mortally.
Lear.
And whither tends this story?
Alb.
Ere they fought,
Lord Edgar gave into my hands this paper;
A blacker scroll of treason and of lust,
Than can be found in the records of hell.
There, sacred sir, behold the character
Of Goneril, the worst of daughters, but
More vicious wife.
Cord.
Cou'd there be yet addition to their guilt!
What would not they who wrong a father do?
Alb.
Since then my injuries, Lear, fall in with thine,
I have resolv'd the same redress for both.
Kent.
What says my lord?
Cord.
Speak, for methought I heard
The charming voice of a descending God.
Alb.
The troops, by Edmund rais'd, I have disbanded;
Those that remain, are under my command.
What comfort may be brought to chear your age,
And heal your savage wrongs, shall be apply'd;
For to your majesty we do resign
Your kingdom, save what part yourself confer'd,
On us in marriage.
Kent.
Hear you that, my liege?
Cord.
Then there are Gods, and virtue is their care.
Lear.
Is't possible?
79
The winds be hush'd, the seas and fountains rest;
All nature pause, and listen to the change.
Where is my Kent, my Caius?
Kent.
Here, my liege.
Lear.
Why I have news that will recall thy youth.
Ha! didst thou hear't, or did th' inspiring Gods
Whisper to me alone? Old Lear shall be
A king again.
Kent.
The prince, that like a God has pow'r, has said it.
Lear.
Cordelia then shall be a queen, mark that:
Cordelia, shall be queen. Winds, catch the sound,
And bear it on your rosy wings to heav'n—
Cordelia is a queen.
Re-enter Edgar with Gloster.
Alb.
Look, sir, where pious Edgar comes,
Leading his eyeless father. O my liege!
His wond'rous story well deserves your leisure;
What he has done and suffer'd for your sake,
What for the fair Cordelia's.
Glo.
Where's my liege? Conduct me to his knees, to hail
His second birth of empire: my dear Edgar
Has with himself reveal'd the king's blest restauration.
Lear.
My poor dark Gloster!
Glo.
O let me kiss that once more scepter'd hand!
Lear.
Hold, thou mistak'st the majesty: kneel here;
Cordelia has our pow'r, Cordelia's queen.
Speak, is not that the noble suff'ring Edgar?
Glo.
My pious son, more dear than my lost eyes.
Lear.
I wrong'd him too, but here's the fair amends.
80
Your leave, my liege, for an unwelcome message.
Edmund (but that's a trifle) is expir'd.
What more will touch you, your imperious daughters,
Goneril, and haughty Regan, both are dead,
Each by the other poison'd at a banquet:
This, dying, they confess'd.
Cord.
O fatal period of ill-govern'd life!
Lear.
Ingrateful as they were, my heart feels yet
A pang of nature for their wretched fall.—
But, Edgar, I defer thy joys too long:
Thou serv'dst distress'd Cordelia; take her, crown'd,
Th' imperial grace fresh blooming on her brow:
Nay, Gloster, thou hast here a father's right,
Thy helping hand t'heap blessings on their heads
Kent.
Old Kent throws in his hearty wishes too.
Edg.
The Gods and you too largely recompense
What I have done; the gift strikes merit dumb.
Cord.
Nor do I blush to own myself o'er paid,
For all my suff'rings past.
Glo.
Now, gentle Gods, give Gloster his discharge.
Lear.
No, Gloster, thou hast business yet for life;
Thou, Kent, and I, retir'd from noise and strife,
Will calmly pass our short reserves of time,
In cool reflections on our fortunes past,
Cheer'd with relation of the prosp'rous reign,
Of this celestial pair; thus our remains
Shall in an even course of thoughts be past,
Enjoy the present hour, nor fear the last.
[Ex. Omnes.
The tender feelings of apprehension, are here tremulated :. the timely rescue, is most agreeably thrown in.
This speech affords a transition, which often furnishes, as audiences have experienced, an admirable stroke for acting merit.
Though the king's restauration is a pleasing circumstance, and Tate piqued himself upon it, the true tragic feelings, and poetical justice, would, in our view, have been better maintained, by making him fall a sacrifice to his obstinate pride and frantic rashness.
This is a very delicate stroke of parental forgiveness, by making the tender father bury those gross injuries the suffering man endured.
This last Act rises far above the fourth; equals the third; falls below the second; but comes near the first. This play, in its present state, will, we doubt not, while any taste for the drama remains, continue to gain advantage and applause in public, while in private it must give very considerable pleasure.
| King Lear | |