# The History of King Lear/Act V

SCENE, A Camp.
[Enter Gonerill and Attendants.]
Gon.
    Our Sisters Pow'rs already are arriv'd,
    And She her self has promis'd to prevent
    The Night with her Approach: have you provided
    The Banquet I bespoke for her Reception
    At my Tent?
Att.
    So, please your Grace, we have.
Gon.
    But thou, my Poysner, must prepare the Bowl
    That Crowns this Banquet, when our Mirth is high,
    The Trumpets sounding and the Flutes replying,
    Then is the Time to give this fatal Draught
    To this imperious Sister; if then our Arms succeed,
    Edmund more dear than Victory is mine.
    But if Defeat or Death it self attend me,
    'Twill charm my Ghost to think I've left behind me
[Trumpet.]
    No happy Rival: heark, she comes.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Bastard in his Tent.]
Bast.
    To both these Sisters have I sworn my Love,
    Each jealous of the other, as the Stung
    Are of the Adder; neither can be held
    If both remain Alive; where shall I fix?
    Cornwall is Dead, and Regan's empty Bed
    Seems cast by Fortune for me, but already
    I have enjoy'd her, and bright Gonerill
    With equal Charms brings dear variety,
    And yet untasted Beauty: I will use
    Her Husband's Countenance for the Battail, then
    Usurp at once his Bed and Throne.
[Enter Officers.]
    My trusty Scouts y' are well return'd, have ye descry'd
    The Strength and Posture of the Enemy?
Off.
    We have, and were surpriz'd to find
    The banisht Kent return'd, and at their Head;
    Your Brother Edgar on the Rear; Old Gloster
    (a moving Spectacle) led through their Ranks,
    Whose pow'rfull Tongue, and more prevailing Wrongs,
    Have so enrag'd their rustick Spirits, that with
    Th' approaching Dawn we must expect their Battle.
Bast.
    You bring a welcome Hearing; Each to his Charge.
    Line well your Ranks and stand on your Award,
    To Night repose you, and i'th' Morn we'll give
    The Sun a Sight that shall be worth his Rising.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE, A Valley near the Camp.
[Enter Edgar and Gloster.]
Edg.
    Here, Sir, take you the shadow of this Tree
    For your good Host, pray that the Right may thrive:
    If ever I return to you again
    I'll bring you Comfort.
[Exit.]
Glost.
    Thanks, friendly Sir;
    The Fortune your good Cause deserves betide you.
[An Alarum, after which Gloster speaks.]
    The Fight grows hot; the whole War's now at Work,
    And the goar'd Battle bleeds in every Vein,
    Whilst Drums and Trumpets drown loud Slaughter's Roar:
    Where's Gloster now that us'd to head the Fray,
    And scour the Ranks where deadliest Danger lay?
    Here like a Shepherd in a lonely Shade,
    Idle, unarm'd, and listning to the Fight.
    Yet the disabled Courser, Maim'd and Blind,
    When to his Stall he hears the ratling War,
    Foaming with Rage tears up the batter'd Ground,
    And tugs for Liberty.
    No more of Shelter, thou blind Worm, but forth
    To th' open Field; the War may come this way
    And crush thee into Rest. — Here lay thee down
    And tear the Earth, that work befits a Mole.
    O dark Despair! when, Edgar, wilt thou come
    To pardon and dismiss me to the Grave!
[A Retreat sounded.]
    Heark! a Retreat, the King has Lost or Won.
[Re-enter Edgar, bloody.]
Edg.
    Away, old Man, give me your Hand, away!
    King Lear has lost, He and his Daughter tane,
    And this, ye Gods, is all that I can save
    Of this most precious Wreck: give me your Hand.
Glost.
    No farther, Sir, a Man may Rot even here.
Edg.
    What? in ill Thoughts again? Men must endure
    Their going hence ev'n as their coming hither.
Glost.
    And that's true too.
[Exeunt.]
[Flourish. Enter in Conquest, Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Bastard.—
Lear, Kent, Cordelia Prisoners.]
Alb.
    It is enough to have Conquer'd, Cruelty
    Shou'd ne're survive the Fight, Captain o'th' Guards
    Treat well your royal Prisoners till you have
    Our further Orders, as you hold our Pleasure.
Gon.
    Heark, Sir, not as you hold our Husbands pleasure
[To the Captain aside.]
    But as you hold your Life, dispatch your Pris'ners.
    Our Empire can have no sure Settlement
    But in their Death, the Earth that covers them
    Binds fast our Throne. Let me hear they are Dead.
Capt.
    I shall obey your Orders.
Bast.
    Sir, I approve it safest to pronounce
    Sentence of Death upon this wretched King,
    Whose Age has Charms in it, his Title more,
    To draw the Commons once more to his Side,
    'Twere best prevent —
Alb.
    Sir, by your Favour,
    I hold you but a Subject of this War,
    Not as a Brother.
Reg.
    That's as we list to Grace him.
    Have you forgot that He did lead our Pow'rs?
    Bore the Commission of our Place and Person?
    And that Authority may well stand up
    And call it self your Brother.
Gon.
    Not so hot,
    In his own Merits he exalts himself
    More than in your Addition.
[Enter Edgar, disguised.]
Alb.
    What art Thou?
Edg.
    Pardon me, Sir, that I presume to stop
    A Prince and Conquerour, yet e'er you Triumph,
    Give Ear to what a Stranger can deliver
    Of what concerns you more than Triumph can.
    I do impeach your General there of Treason,
    Lord Edmund, that usurps the Name of Gloster,
    Of fowlest Practice 'gainst your Life and Honour;
    This Charge is True, and wretched though I seem
    I can produce a Champion that will prove
    In single Combat what I do avouch;
    If Edmund dares but trust his Cause and Sword.
Bast.
    What will not Edmund dare, my Lord, I beg
    The favour that you'd instantly appoint
    The Place where I may meet this Challenger,
    Whom I will sacrifice to my wrong'd Fame,
    Remember, Sir, that injur'd Honour's nice
    And cannot brook delay.
Alb.
    Anon, before our Tent, i'th' Army's view,
    There let the Herald cry.
Edg.
    I thank your Highness in my Champion's Name,
    He'll wait your Trumpet's call.
    Alb.
Lead.
[Exeunt.]
[Manent, Lear, Kent, Cordelia, guarded.]
Lear.
    O Kent, Cordelia!
    You are the onely Pair that I e'er wrong'd,
    And the just Gods have made you Witnesses
    Of my Disgrace, the very shame of Fortune,
    To see me chain'd and shackled at these years!
    Yet were you but Spectatours of my Woes,
    Not fellow-sufferers, all were well!
Cord.
    This language, Sir, adds yet to our Affliction.
Lear.
    Thou, Kent, didst head the Troops that fought my Battel,
    Expos'd thy Life and Fortunes for a Master
    That had (as I remember) banisht Thee.
Kent.
    Pardon me, Sir, that once I broke your Orders,
    Banisht by you, I kept me here disguis'd
    To watch your Fortunes, and protect your Person,
    You know you entertain'd a rough blunt Fellow,
    One Cajus, and you thought he did you Service.
Lear.
    My trusty Cajus, I have lost him too!
[Weeps.
    'Twas a rough Honesty.
Kent.
    I was that Cajus,
    Disguis'd in that course Dress to follow you.
Lear.
    My Cajus too! wer't thou my trusty Cajus,
    Enough, enough—
Cord.
    Ah me, he faints! his Blood forsakes his Cheek,
    Help, Kent—
Lear.
    No, no, they shall not see us weep,
    We'll see them rot first,— Guards lead away to Prison,
    Come, Kent, Cordelia come,
    We Two will sit alone, like Birds i'th Cage,
    When Thou dost ask me Blessing, I'll kneel down
    And ask of Thee Forgiveness; Thus we'll live,
    And Pray, and Sing, and tell old Tales, and Laugh
    At gilded Butter-flies, hear Sycophants
    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 us the Mystery of Things
    As if we were Heav'ns Spies.
Cord.
    Upon such Sacrifices
    The Gods themselves throw Incense.
Lear.
    Have I caught ye?
    He that parts us must bring a Brand from Heav'n.
    Together we'll out-toil the spight of Hell,
    And Die the Wonders of the World; Away.
[Exeunt, guarded.]
[Flourish: Enter before the Tents, Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Guards and Attendants; Gonerill speaking apart to the Captain of the Guards entring.]
Gon.
    Here's Gold for Thee, Thou knowst our late Command
    Upon your Pris'ners Lives, about it streight, and at
    Our Ev'ning Banquet let it raise our Mirth
    To hear that They are Dead.
Capt.
    I shall not fail your Orders.
[Ex.]
[Albany, Gon. Reg. take their Seats.]
Alb.
    Now, Gloster, trust to thy single Vertue, for thy Souldiers,
    All levied in my Name, have in my Name
    Took their Discharge; now let our Trumpets speak,
    And Herald read out This.
Herald [Reads].
       If any Man of Quality, within the Lists of the Army, will maintain upon Edmund, suppos'd Earl of Gloster, that he is manifold Traytour, let him appear by the third sound of the Trumpet; He is bold in his Defence. —Agen, Agen.
[Trumpet Answers from within.]
[Enter Edgar, Arm'd.]
Alb.
    Lord Edgar!
Bast.
    Ha! my Brother!
    This is the onely Combatant that I cou'd fear;
    For in my Breast Guilt Duels on his side,
    But, Conscience, what have I to do with Thee?
    Awe Thou thy dull Legitimate Slaves, but I
    Was born a Libertine, and so I keep me.
Edg.
    My noble Prince, a word—e'er we engage
    Into your Highness's Hands I give this Paper,
    It will the truth of my Impeachment prove
    Whatever be my fortune in the Fight.
Alb.
    We shall peruse it.
Edg.
    Now, Edmund, draw thy Sword,
    That if my Speech has wrong'd a noble Heart,
    Thy Arm may doe thee Justice: here i'th' presence
    Of this high Prince, these Queens, and this crown'd List,
    I brand thee with the spotted name of Traytour,
    False to thy Gods, thy Father and thy Brother,
    And what is more, thy Friend; false to this Prince:
    If then Thou shar'st a spark of Gloster's Vertue,
    Acquit thy self, or if Thou shar'st his Courage,
    Meet this Defiance bravely.
Bast.
    And dares Edgar,
    The beaten routed Edgar, brave his Conquerour?
    From all thy Troops and Thee, I forc't the Field,
    Thou hast lost the gen'ral Stake, and art Thou now
    Come with thy petty single Stock to play
    This after-Game?
Edg.
    Half-blooded Man,
    Thy Father's Sin first, then his Punishment,
    The dark and vicious Place where he begot thee
    Cost him his Eyes: from thy licentious Mother
    Thou draw'st thy Villany; but for thy part
    Of Gloster's Blood, I hold thee worth my Sword.
Bast.
    Thou bear'st thee on thy Mother's Piety,
    Which I despise; thy Mother being chaste
    Thou art assur'd Thou art but Gloster's Son,
    But mine, disdaining Constancy, leaves me
    To hope that I am sprung from nobler Blood,
    And possibly a King might be my Sire:
    But be my Birth's uncertain Chance as 'twill,
    Who 'twas that had the hit to Father me
    I know not; 'tis enough that I am I:
    Of this one thing I'm certain — that I have
    A daring Soul, and so have at thy Heart
    Sound Trumpet.
[Fight, Bastard falls.]
Gon. and Reg.
    Save him, save him.
Gon.
    This was Practice, Gloster,
    Thou won'st the Field, and wast not bound to Fight
    A vanquisht Enemy, Thou art not Conquer'd
    But couz'ned and betray'd.
Alb.
    Shut your Mouth, Lady,
    Or with this Paper I shall stop it—hold, Sir,
    Thou worse than any Name, reade thy own evil,
    No Tearing, Lady, I perceive you know it.
Gon.
    Say if I do, who shall arraign me for't?
    The Laws are Mine, not Thine.
Alb.
    Most monstrous! ha, Thou know'st it too.
Bast.
    Ask me not what I know,
    I have not Breath to Answer idle Questions.
Alb.
    I have resolv'd— your Right, brave Sir, has conquer'd,
[To Edgar.]
    Along with me, I must consult your Father.
[Ex. Albany and Edgar.]
Reg.
    Help every Hand to save a noble Life;
    My half o'th' Kingdom for a Man of Skill
    To stop this precious stream.
Bast.
    Away ye Empericks,
    Torment me not with your vain Offices:
    The Sword has pierc't too far; Legitimacy
    At last has got it.
Reg.
    The Pride of Nature Dies.
Gon.
    Away, the minutes are too precious,
    Disturb us not with thy impertinent Sorrow.
Reg.
    Art Thou my Rival then profest?
Gon.
    Why, was our Love a Secret? cou'd there be
    Beauty like Mine, and Gallantry like His
    And not a mutual Love? just Nature then
    Had err'd: behold that Copy of Perfection,
    That Youth whose Story will have no foul Page
    But where it says he stoopt to Regan's Arms:
    Which yet was but Compliance, not Affection;
    A Charity to begging, ruin'd Beauty!
Reg.
    Who begg'd when Gonerill writ That? expose it
[Throws her a Letter.]
    And let it be your Army's mirth, as 'twas
    This charming Youth's and mine, when in the Bow'r
    He breath'd the warmest ecstasies of Love,
    Then panting on my Breast, cry'd matchless Regan
    That Gonerill and Thou shou'd e'er be Kin!
Gon.
    Die, Circe, for thy Charms are at an End,
    Expire before my Face, and let me see
    How well that boasted Beauty will become
    Congealing Blood and Death's convulsive Pangs.
    Die and be husht, for at my Tent last Night
    Thou drank'st thy Bane, amidst thy rev'ling Bowls:
    Ha! dost thou Smile? is then thy Death thy Sport
    Or has the trusty Potion made thee Mad?
Reg.
    Thou com'st as short of me in thy Revenge
    As in my Gloster's Love, my Jealousie
    Inspir'd me to prevent thy feeble Malice
    And Poison Thee at thy own Banquet.
Gon.
    Ha!
Bast.
    No more, my Queens, of this untimely Strife,
    You both deserv'd my Love and both possest it.
    Come, Souldiers, bear me in; and let
    Your royal Presence grace my last minutes:
    Now, Edgar, thy proud Conquest I forgive;
    Who wou'd not choose, like me, to yield his Breath
    T'have Rival Queens contend for him in Death?
[Exeunt.]
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 ravisht Mind
    With fancy'd Freedom; Peace is us'd to lodge
    On Cottage Straw, Thou hast the Begger's Bed,
    Therefore shou'dst have the Begger'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 suddain Gloom o'er-whelms me, and the Image
    Of Death o'er-spreads the Place.—ha! who are These?
[Enter Captain and Officers 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 last Wing haults;
    Push, push the Battel, and the Day's our own.
    Their Ranks are broke, down, down with Albany.
    Who holds my Hands? — O thou deceiving Sleep,
    I was this very Minute on the Chace;
    And now a Prisoner here— What mean the Slaves?
    You will not Murder me?
Cord.
    Help Earth and Heaven!
    For your Souls sake's, dear Sirs, and for the Gods.
Offic.
    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 humane Form, and if no Pray'rs
    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 Partizan, and strikes down two of them; the rest quit Cordelia, and turn upon him. Enter Edgar and Albany.]
Edg.
    Death! Hell! Ye Vultures hold your impious Hands,
    Or take a speedier Death than you wou'd give.
Capt.
    By whose Command?
Edg.
    Behold the Duke your Lord.
Alb.
    Guards, seize those Instruments of Cruelty.
Cord.
    My Edgar, Oh!
Edg.
    My dear Cordelia, Lucky was the Minute
    Of our Approach, the Gods have weigh'd our Suffrings;
    W' are past 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,
[Ex. 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 streight;
    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 pitty! —
Alb.
    Take off their Chains — 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, inhumane Lord, to sooth us back
    To a Fool's Paradise of Hope, to make
    Our Doom more wretched? go too, 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
    Impeacht 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 Traytor wounded Mortally.
Lear.
    And whither tends this Story?
Alb.
    E'er they fought
    Lord Edgar gave into my Hands this Paper,
    A blacker Scrowl of Treason, and of Lust
    Than can be found in the Records of Hell;
    There, Sacred Sir, behold the Character
    Of Gonerill the worst of Daughters, but
    More Vicious Wife.
Cord.
    Cou'd there be yet Addition to their Guilt?
    What will not They that wrong a Father doe?
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 me thought 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 cheer your Age
    And heal your savage Wrongs, shall be apply'd;
    For to your Majesty we do Resign
    Your Kingdom, save what Part your Self conferr'd
    On Us in Marriage.
Kent.
    Hear you that, my Liege?
Cord.
    Then there are Gods, and Vertue is their Care.
Lear.
    Is 't Possible?
    Let the Spheres stop their Course, the Sun make Hault,
    The Winds be husht, the Seas and Fountains Rest;
    All Nature pause, and listen to the Change.
    Where is my Kent, my Cajus?
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 rosie Wings to Heav'n.
    Cordelia is a Queen.
[Re-enter Edgar with Gloster.]
Alb.
    Look, Sir, where pious Edgar comes
    Leading his Eye-less Father: O my Liege!
    His wondrous Story will deserve your Leisure:
    What He has done and suffer'd for your Sake,
    What for the Fair Cordelia's.
Glost.
    Where is 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;
Glost.
    O let me kiss that once more sceptred Hand!
Lear.
    Hold, Thou mistak'st the Majesty, kneel here;
    Cordelia has our Pow'r, Cordelia's Queen.
    Speak, is not that the noble Suffring Edgar?
Glost.
    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 Triflle) is expir'd;
    What more will touch you, your imperious Daughters
    Gonerill and haughty Regan, both are Dead,
    Each by the other poison'd at a Banquet;
    This, Dying, they confest.
Cord.
    O fatal Period of ill-govern'd Life!
Lear.
    Ingratefull 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 distrest 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 Head.
Kent.
    Old Kent throws in his hearty Wishes too.
Edg.
    The Gods and You too largely recompence
    What I have done; the Gift strikes Merit Dumb.
Cord.
    Nor do I blush to own my Self o'er-paid
    For all my Suffrings past.
Glost.
    Now, gentle Gods, give Gloster his Discharge.
Lear.
    No, Gloster, Thou hast Business yet for Life;
    Thou, Kent and I, retir'd to some cool Cell
    Will gently pass our short reserves of Time
    In calm Reflections on our Fortunes past,
    Cheer'd with relation of the prosperous Reign
    Of this celestial Pair; Thus our Remains
    Shall in an even Course of Thought be past,
    Enjoy the present Hour, nor fear the Last.
Edg.
    Our drooping Country now erects her Head,
    Peace spreads her balmy Wings, and Plenty Blooms.
    Divine Cordelia, all the Gods can witness
    How much thy Love to Empire I prefer!
    Thy bright Example shall convince the World
    (Whatever Storms of Fortune are decreed)
    That Truth and Vertue shall at last succeed.
[Ex. Omnes.]
FINIS.