The Complete Works of William Shakespeare · William Shakespeare
SCENE III. The British Camp near Dover
Enter in conquest with drum and colours, Edmund, Lear and Cordelia as prisoners; Officers, Soldiers, &c. EDMUND. Some officers take them away: good guard Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them. CORDELIA. We are not the first Who with best meaning have incurr’d the worst. For thee, oppressed King, I am cast down; Myself could else out-frown false fortune’s frown. Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? LEAR. No, no, no, no. Come, let’s away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing I’ll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too, Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out; And take upon’s the mystery of things, As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out, In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great ones That ebb and flow by the moon. EDMUND. Take them away. LEAR. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes; The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep! We’ll see ’em starve first: come.
ALBANY. Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother. REGAN. That’s as we list to grace him. Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers; Bore the commission of my place and person; The which immediacy may well stand up And call itself your brother. GONERIL. Not so hot: In his own grace he doth exalt himself, More than in your addition. REGAN. In my rights, By me invested, he compeers the best. ALBANY. That were the most, if he should husband you. REGAN. Jesters do oft prove prophets. GONERIL. Holla, holla! That eye that told you so look’d but asquint. REGAN. Lady, I am not well; else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach. General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine: Witness the world that I create thee here My lord and master. GONERIL. Mean you to enjoy him? ALBANY. The let-alone lies not in your good will. EDMUND. Nor in thine, lord. ALBANY. Half-blooded fellow, yes. REGAN. [_To Edmund._] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. ALBANY. Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I arrest thee On capital treason; and, in thine arrest, This gilded serpent. [_pointing to Goneril._] For your claim, fair sister, I bar it in the interest of my wife; ’Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord, And I her husband contradict your bans. If you will marry, make your loves to me, My lady is bespoke.
GONERIL. An interlude! ALBANY. Thou art arm’d, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound: If none appear to prove upon thy person Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge. [_Throwing down a glove._] I’ll make it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaim’d thee. REGAN. Sick, O, sick! GONERIL. [_Aside._] If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine. EDMUND. There’s my exchange. [_Throwing down a glove._] What in the world he is That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach, On him, on you, who not? I will maintain My truth and honour firmly. ALBANY. A herald, ho! Enter a Herald. Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge. REGAN. My sickness grows upon me. ALBANY. She is not well. Convey her to my tent. [_Exit Regan, led._] Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound And read out this. OFFICER. Sound, trumpet! [_A trumpet sounds._] HERALD. [_Reads._] ‘If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.’ EDMUND. Sound!
EDMUND. Thou hast spoken right, ’tis true; The wheel is come full circle; I am here. ALBANY. Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee. Let sorrow split my heart if ever I Did hate thee or thy father. EDGAR. Worthy prince, I know’t. ALBANY. Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father? EDGAR. By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; And when ’tis told, O that my heart would burst! The bloody proclamation to escape That follow’d me so near,—O, our lives’ sweetness! That with the pain of death we’d hourly die Rather than die at once!—taught me to shift Into a madman’s rags; t’assume a semblance That very dogs disdain’d; and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, Led him, begg’d for him, sav’d him from despair; Never,—O fault!—reveal’d myself unto him Until some half hour past, when I was arm’d; Not sure, though hoping of this good success, I ask’d his blessing, and from first to last Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw’d heart, Alack, too weak the conflict to support! ’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly. EDMUND. This speech of yours hath mov’d me, And shall perchance do good, but speak you on; You look as you had something more to say.
ALBANY. If there be more, more woeful, hold it in; For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this. EDGAR. This would have seem’d a period To such as love not sorrow; but another, To amplify too much, would make much more, And top extremity. Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man Who, having seen me in my worst estate, Shunn’d my abhorr’d society; but then finding Who ’twas that so endur’d, with his strong arms He fastened on my neck, and bellow’d out As he’d burst heaven; threw him on my father; Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him That ever ear receiv’d, which in recounting His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded, And there I left him tranc’d. ALBANY. But who was this? EDGAR. Kent, sir, the banish’d Kent; who in disguise Follow’d his enemy king and did him service Improper for a slave. Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody knife. GENTLEMAN. Help, help! O, help! EDGAR. What kind of help? ALBANY. Speak, man. EDGAR. What means this bloody knife? GENTLEMAN. ’Tis hot, it smokes; It came even from the heart of—O! she’s dead! ALBANY. Who dead? Speak, man. GENTLEMAN. Your lady, sir, your lady; and her sister By her is poisoned; she hath confesses it.
EDMUND. I was contracted to them both, all three Now marry in an instant. EDGAR. Here comes Kent. Enter Kent. ALBANY. Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead. This judgement of the heavens that makes us tremble Touches us not with pity. O, is this he? The time will not allow the compliment Which very manners urges. KENT. I am come To bid my King and master aye good night: Is he not here? ALBANY. Great thing of us forgot! Speak, Edmund, where’s the King? and where’s Cordelia? The bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in. Seest thou this object, Kent? KENT. Alack, why thus? EDMUND. Yet Edmund was belov’d. The one the other poisoned for my sake, And after slew herself. ALBANY. Even so. Cover their faces. EDMUND. I pant for life. Some good I mean to do, Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia; Nay, send in time. ALBANY. Run, run, O, run! EDGAR. To who, my lord? Who has the office? Send Thy token of reprieve. EDMUND. Well thought on: take my sword, Give it the captain. EDGAR. Haste thee for thy life. [_Exit Edgar._] EDMUND. He hath commission from thy wife and me To hang Cordelia in the prison, and To lay the blame upon her own despair, That she fordid herself.
ALBANY. The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile. [_Edmund is borne off._] Enter Lear with Cordelia dead in his arms; Edgar, Officer and others following. LEAR. Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone. Had I your tongues and eyes, I’ld use them so That heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone for ever! I know when one is dead, and when one lives; She’s dead as earth. Lend me a looking glass; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives. KENT. Is this the promis’d end? EDGAR. Or image of that horror? ALBANY. Fall, and cease! LEAR. This feather stirs; she lives! If it be so, It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt. KENT. O, my good master! [_Kneeling._] LEAR. Prithee, away! EDGAR. ’Tis noble Kent, your friend. LEAR. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have sav’d her; now she’s gone for ever! Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! What is’t thou say’st? Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman. I kill’d the slave that was a-hanging thee. OFFICER. ’Tis true, my lords, he did. LEAR. Did I not, fellow? I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion I would have made them skip. I am old now, And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? Mine eyes are not o’ the best, I’ll tell you straight.
KENT. If Fortune brag of two she lov’d and hated, One of them we behold. LEAR. This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent? KENT. The same, Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius? LEAR. He’s a good fellow, I can tell you that; He’ll strike, and quickly too:. He’s dead and rotten. KENT. No, my good lord; I am the very man. LEAR. I’ll see that straight. KENT. That from your first of difference and decay Have follow’d your sad steps. LEAR. You are welcome hither. KENT. Nor no man else. All’s cheerless, dark and deadly. Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, And desperately are dead. LEAR. Ay, so I think. ALBANY. He knows not what he says; and vain is it That we present us to him. EDGAR. Very bootless. Enter an Officer. OFFICER. Edmund is dead, my lord. ALBANY. That’s but a trifle here. You lords and noble friends, know our intent. What comfort to this great decay may come Shall be applied. For us, we will resign, During the life of this old majesty, To him our absolute power; [_to Edgar and Kent_] you to your rights; With boot and such addition as your honours Have more than merited. All friends shall taste The wages of their virtue and all foes The cup of their deservings. O, see, see!
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