University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE, Gloster's House.
Enter Bastard.
Bast.
The Duke comes here to night, I'll take advantage
Of his Arrival to compleat my project,
Brother a Word, come forth, 'tis I your Friend,
[Enter Edgar.
My Father watches for you, fly this place,
Intelligence is giv'n where you are hid,
Take the advantage of the Night, bethink ye
Have not spoke against the Duke of Cornwall
Something might shew you a favourer of
Duke Albany's Party?

Edg.
Nothing, why ask you?

Bast.
Because he's coming here to Night in haste
And Regan with him—heark! the Guards, Away.

Ed.
Let 'em come on, I'll stay and clear my self.

Bast.
Your Innocence at leisure may be heard,
But Gloster's storming Rage as yet is deaf,
And you may perish e're allow'd the hearing.
[Ex. Edgar.
Gloster comes yonder: now to my feign'd scuffle—
Yield, come before my Father! Lights here, Lights!
Some Blood drawn on me wou'd beget opinion
[Stabs his Arm.
Of our more fierce Encounter—I have seen
Drunkards do more than this in sport.

[Enter Gloster and Servants.
Glost.
Now, Edmund, where's the Traytour?

Bast.
That Name, Sir,
Strikes Horrour through me, but my Brother, Sir,
Stood here i'th' Dark.

Glost.
Thou bleed'st, pursue the Villain
And bring him piece-meal to me.

Bast.
Sir, he's fled.

Glost.
Let him fly far, this Kingdom shall not hide him:
The noble Duke, my Patron, comes to Night,
By his Authority I will proclaim
Rewards for him that brings him to the Stake,
And Death for the Concealer.
Then of my Lands, loyal and natural Boy,
I'll work the means to make thee capable.

[Exeunt.
Enter Kent (disguis'd still) and Goneril's Gentleman, severally.
Gent.
Good morrow Friend, belong'st thou to this House?

Kent.

Ask them will answer thee.

Gent.

Where may we set our Horses?

Kent.

I'th' Mire.

Gent.

I am in haste, prethee an' thou lov'st me, tell me.

Kent.

I love thee not.

Gent.

Why then I care not for Thee.

Kent.

An' I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I'd make thee care
for me.

Gent.

What dost thou mean? I know thee not.

Kent.

But, Minion, I know Thee.

Gent.

What dost thou know me for?

Kent.

For a base, proud, beggarly, white-liver'd, Glass-gazing,
superserviceable finical Rogue; one that wou'd be a Pimp in
way of good Service, and art nothing but a composition of
Knave, Beggar, Coward, Pandar—.

Gent.

What a monstrous Fellow art thou to rail at one that
is neither known of thee nor knows thee?

Kent.

Impudent Slave, not know me, who but two days
since tript up thy heels before the King: draw, Miscreant, or I'll
make the Moon shine through thee.

Gent.

What means the Fellow?—Why prethee, prethee;
I tell thee I have nothing to do with thee.

Kent.

I know your Rogueship's Office, you come with Letters
against the King, taking my young Lady Vanity's part against
her royal Father; draw Rascal.

Gent.

Murther, murther, help Ho!

Kent.

Dost thou scream Peacock, strike Puppet, stand dappar
Slave.

Gent.
Help Hea'! Murther, help.

[Exit. Kent after him.
Flourish. Enter Duke of Cornwal, Regan, attended, Gloster, Bastard.
Glost.
All Welcome to your Graces, you do me honour.

Duke.
Gloster w'ave heard with sorrow that your Life
Has been attempted by your impious Son,
But Edmund here has paid you strictest Duty.

Glost.
He did betray his Practice, and receiv'd
The Hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

Duke.
Is He pursu'd?

Glost.
He is, my Lord.

Reg.
Use our Authority to apprehend
The Traytour and do Justice on his Head;
For you, Edmund, that have so signaliz'd
Your Vertue, you from henceforth shall be ours;
Natures of such firm Trust we much shall need.
A charming Youth and worth my further Thought.

[Aside.
Duke.
Lay comforts, noble Gloster, to your Breast,
As we to ours, This Night be spent in Revels,
We choose you, Gloster, for our Host to Night,
A troublesome expression of our Love.
On, to the Sports before us—who are These?

Enter the Gentleman pursu'd by Kent.
Glost.
Now, what's the matter?

Duke.
Keep peace upon your Lives, he dies that strikes.
Whence and what are ye?

Att.
Sir, they are Messengers, the one from your Sister,
The other from the King.

Duke.
Your Difference? speak.

Gent.
I'm scarce in breath, my Lord.

Kent.
No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your Valour.
Nature disclaims the Dastard, a Taylor made him.

Duke.
Speak yet, how grew your Quarrel?

Gent.
Sir this old Ruffian here, whose Life I spar'd
In pity to his Beard—

Kent.
Thou Essence Bottle!
In pity to my Beard?—Your leave, my Lord,
And I will tread the Muss cat into Mortar.

Duke.
Know'st thou our Presence?

Kent.
Yes, Sir, but Anger has a Privilege.

Duke.
Why art thou angry?

Kent.
That such a Slave as this shou'd wear a Sword
And have no Courage, Office and no Honesty.
Not Frost and Fire hold more Antipathy
Than I and such a Knave.

Glost.
Why dost thou call him Knave?

Kent.
His Countenance likes me not.

Duke.
No more perhaps does Mine, nor His or Hers.

Kent.
Plain-dealing is my Trade, and to be plain, Sir,
I have seen better Faces in my time
Than stands on any Shoulders now before me.

Reg.
This is some Fellow that having once been prais'd,
For Bluntness, since affects a sawcy Rudeness,
But I have known one of these surly Knaves
That in his Plainness harbour'd more Design
Than twenty cringing complementing Minions.

Duke.
What's the offence you gave him?

Gent.
Never any, Sir.
It pleas'd the King his Master lately
To strike me on a slender misconstruction,
Whilst watching his Advantage this old Lurcher
Tript me behind, for which the King extold him;
And, flusht with th' honour of this bold exploit,
Drew on me here agen.

Duke.
Bring forth the Stocks, we'll teach you.

Kent.
Sir I'm too old to learn;
Call not the Stocks for me, I serve the King,
On whose Employment I was sent to you,
You'll shew too small Respect, and too bold Malice
Against the Person of my royal Master,
Stocking his Messenger.

Duke.
Bring forth the Stocks, as I have Life and Honour,
There shall he sit till Noon.

Reg.
Till Noon, my Lord? till Night, and all Night too.

Kent.
Why, Madam, if I were your Father's Dog
You wou'd not use me so.

Reg.
Sir, being his Knave I will.

Glost.
Let me beseech your Graces to forbear him,
His fault is much, and the good King his Master
Will check him for't, but needs must take it ill
To be thus slighted in his Messenger.

Duke.
Wee'l answer that;
Our Sister may receive it worse to have
Her Gentleman assaulted: to our business lead.

[Exit.
Glost.
I am sorry for thee, Friend, 'tis the Duke's pleasure
Whose Disposition will not be controll'd,
But I'll entreat for thee.

Kent.
Pray do not, Sir—
I have watcht and travell'd hard,
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle:
Fare-well t'ye, Sir.
[Ex. Glost.
All weary and o're-watcht,
I feel the drowzy Guest steal on me; take
Advantage heavy Eyes of this kind Slumber,
Not to behold this vile and shamefull Lodging.

[Sleeps.
Enter Edgar.
Edg.
I heard my self proclaim'd,
And by the friendly Hollow of a Tree
Escapt the Hunt, no Port is free, no place
Where Guards and most unusual Vigilance
Do not attend to take me—how easie now
'Twere to defeat the malice of my Trale,
And leave my Griefs on my Sword's reeking point;
But Love detains me from Death's peacefull Cell,
Still whispering me Cordelia's in distress;
Unkinde as she is I cannot see her wretched,
But must be neer to wait upon her Fortune.
Who knows but the white minute yet may come
When Edgar may do service to Cordelia,
That charming Hope still ties me to the Oar
Of painfull Life, and makes me too, submit
To th' humblest shifts to keep that Life a foot;
My Face I will besmear and knit my Locks,
The Country gives me proof and president
Of Bedlam Beggars, who with roaring Voices
Strike in their numm'd and mortify'd bare Arms
Pins, Iron-spikes, Thorns, sprigs of Rosemary,
And thus from Sheep-coats Villages and Mills,
Sometimes with Prayers, sometimes with Lunatick Banns
Enforce their Charity, poor Tyrligod, poor Tom
That's something yet, Edgar I am no more.

[Exit
Kent in the Stocks still; Enter Lear attended.
Lear.
'Tis strange that they shou'd so depart from home
And not send back our Messenger.

Kent.
Hail, noble Master.

Lear.
How? mak'st thou this Shame thy Pastime?
What's he that has so much mistook thy Place
To set thee here?

Kent.
It is both He and She, Sir, your Son and Daughter.

Lear.
No.

Kent:
Yes:

Lear:
No I say.

Kent:
I say yea:

Lear.
By Jupiter I swear no.

Kent.
By Juno I swear, I swear I.

Lear.
They durst not do't
They cou'd not, wou'd not do't, 'tis worse then Murder
To doe upon Respect such violent out-rage.
Resolve me with all modest haste which way
Thou mayst deserve, or they impose this usage?

Kent.
My Lord, when at their Home
I did commend your Highness Letters to them,
E'er I was Ris'n, arriv'd another Post
Steer'd in his haste, breathless and panting forth
From Gonerill his Mistress Salutations,
Whose Message being deliver'd, they took Horse,
Commanding me to follow and attend
The leisure of their Answer; which I did,
But meeting that other Messenger
Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine,
Being the very Fellow that of late
Had shew'n such rudeness to your Highness, I
Having more Man than Wit about me, Drew,
On which he rais'd the House with Coward cries:
This was the Trespass which your Son and Daughter
Thought worth the shame you see it suffer here.

Lear.
Oh! how this Spleen swells upward to my Heart
And heaves for passage—down thou climing Rage
Thy Element's below; where is this Daughter?

Kent.
Within, Sir, at a Masque.

Enter Gloster.
Lear.
Now Gloster?—ha!
Deny to speak with me? th'are sick, th'are weary,
They have travell'd hard to Night—meer fetches;
Bring me a better Answer.

Glost.
My dear Lord,
You know the fiery Quality of the Duke—

Lear.
Vengeance! Death, Plague, Confusion,
Fiery? what Quality—why Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwal and his Wife.

Glost.
I have inform'd 'em so.

Lear.
Inform'd 'em! dost thou understand me, Man,
I tell thee Gloster—

Glost.
I, my good Lord.

Lear.
The King wou'd speak with Cornwal, the dear Father
Would 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—
No, but not yet, may be he is not well:
Infirmity do's still neglect all Office;
I beg his Pardon, and I'll chide my Rashness
That took the indispos'd and sickly Fit
For the sound Man—but wherefore sits he there?
Death on my State, this Act convinces me
That this Retiredness of the Duke and her
Is plain Contempt; give me my Servant forth,
Go tell the Duke and's Wife I'd speak with 'em.
Now, instantly, bid 'em come forth and hear me,
Or at their Chamber door I'll beat the Drum
Till it cry sleep to Death—
Enter Cornwall and Regan.
Oh! are ye come?

Duke.
Health to the King.

Reg.
I am glad to see your Highness.

Lear.
Regan, I think you are, I know what cause
I have to think so; should'st thou not be glad
I wou'd divorce me from thy Mother's Tomb?
Beloved Regan, thou wilt shake to hear
What I shall utter: Thou coud'st ne'r ha' thought it,
Thy Sister's naught, O Regan, she has ty'd
Ingratitude like a keen Vulture here,
Kent here set at liberty.
I scarce can speak to thee.

Reg.
I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have hope
That you know less to value her Desert,
Then she to slack her Duty.

Lear.
Ha! how's that?

Reg.
I cannot think my Sister in the least
Would fail in her respects, but if perchance
She has restrain'd the Riots of your Followers
'Tis on such Grounds, and to such wholsome Ends
As clears her from all Blame.

Lear.
My Curses on her.

Reg.
O Sir, you are old
And shou'd content you to be rul'd and led
By some discretion that discerns your State
Better than you yourself, therefore, Sir,
Return to our Sister, and say you have wrong'd her.

Lear.
Ha! ask her Forgiveness?
No, no, 'twas my mistake thou didst not mean so,
Dear Daughter, I confess that I am old;
Age is unnecessary, but thou art good,
And wilt dispense with my Infirmity.

Reg.
Good Sir, no more of these unsightly passions,
Return back to our Sister.

Lear.
Never, Regan,
She has abated me of half of my Train,
Lookt black upon me, stabb'd me with her Tongue;
All the stor'd Vengeances of Heav'n fall
On her Ingratefull Head; strike her young Bones
Ye taking Ayrs with Lameness.

Reg.
O the blest Gods! Thus will you wish on me
When the rash mood—

Lear.
No, Regan, Thou shalt never have my Curse,
Thy tender Nature cannot give thee o're
To such Impiety; Thou better know'st
The Offices of Nature, bond of Child-hood,
And dues of Gratitude: Thou bear'st in mind
The half o'th' Kingdom which our love conferr'd
On thee and thine.

Reg.
Good Sir, toth' purpose.

Lear.
Who put my Man i'th' Stocks?

Duke.
What Trumpet's that?

Reg.
I know't, my Sister's, this confirms her Letters.
Sir, is your Lady come?

Enter Gonerill's Gentleman.
Lear.
More Torture still?
This is a Slave whose easie borrow'd pride
Dwells in the fickle Grace of her he follows;
A Fashion-fop that spends the day in Dressing,
And all to bear his Ladie's flatt'ring Message,
That can deliver with a Grace her Lie,
And with as bold a face bring back a greater.
Out Varlet from my sight.

Duke.
What means your Grace?

Lear.
Who stockt my Servant? Regan, I have hope
Thou didst not know it.
Enter Gonerill.
Who comes here! oh Heavens!
If you do love Old men, if your sweet sway
Allow Obedience; if your selves are Old,
Make it your Cause, send down and take my part;
Why, Gorgon, dost thou come to haunt me here?
Art not asham'd to look upon this Beard?
Darkness upon my Eyes they play me false,
O Regan, wilt thou take her by the Hand?

Gon.
Why not by th' Hand, Sir, how have I offended?
All's not Offence that indiscretion finds,
And Dotage terms so.

Lear.
Heart thou art too tough.

Reg.
I pray you, Sir, being old confess you are so,
If till the expiration of your Month
You will return and sojourn with your Sister,
Dismissing half your Train, come then to me,
I am now from Home, and out of that Provision
That shall be needfull for your Entertainment.

Lear.
Return with her and fifty Knights dismist?
No, rather I'll forswear all Roofs, and chuse
To be Companion to the Midnight Wolf,
My naked Head expos'd to th' merciless Air
Then have my smallest wants suppli'd by her.

Gon.
At your choice, Sir.

Lear.
Now I prithee Daughter do not make me mad;
I will not trouble thee, my Child, farewell,
Wee'l meet no more, no more see one another;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it,
I do not bid the Thunder-bearer strike,
Nor tell Tales of thee to avenging Heav'n;
Mend when thou canst, be better at thy leisure,
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
I, and my hundred Knights.

Reg.
Your Pardon, Sir.
I lookt not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome.

Lear.
Is this well spoken now?

Reg.
My Sister treats you fair; what fifty Followers
Is it not well? what shou'd you need of more?

Gon.
Why might not you, my Lord, receive Attendance
From those whom she calls Servants, or from mine?

Reg.
Why not, my Lord? if then they chance to slack you
We cou'd controll 'em—if you come to me,
For now I see the Danger, I entreat you
To bring but Five and Twenty; to no more
Will I give place.

Lear.
Hold now my Temper, stand this bolt unmov'd
And I am Thunder-proof;
The wicked when compar'd with the more wicked
Seem beautifull, and not to be the worst,
Stands in some rank of Praise; now, Gonerill,
Thou art innocent agen, I'll go with thee;
Thy Fifty yet, do's double Five and Twenty,
And thou art twice her Love.

Gon.
Hear me, my Lord,
What need you Five and Twenty, Ten, or Five,
To follow in a House where twice so many
Have a Command t'attend you?

Reg.
What need one?

Lear.
Blood, Fire! hear—Leaprosies and bluest Plagues!
Room, room for Hell to belch her Horrors up
And drench the Circes in a stream of Fire;
Heark how th' Infernals eccho to my Rage
Their Whips and Snakes—

Reg.
How lewd a thing is Passion!

Gon.
So old and stomachfull.

[Lightning and Thunder.
Lear.
Heav'ns drop your Patience down;
You see me here, ye Gods, a poor old Man
As full of Griefs as Age, wretched in both—
I'll bear no more: no, you unnatural Haggs,
I will have such Revenges on you both,
That all the world shall—I will do such things
What they are yet I know not, but they shall be
The Terrors of the Earth; you think I'll weep,
[Thunder again.
This Heart shall break into a thousand pieces
Before I'll weep—O Gods! I shall go mad.

Exit.
Duke.
'Tis a wild Night, come out o'th' Storm.

[Exeunt.