# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedy of King Lear/Act 4 Scene 5

Scena Quinta.
Enter Gloucester, and Edgar.
Glou. When shall I come to th'top of that same hill?
Edg. You do climbe vp it now. Look how we labor.
Glou. Me thinkes the ground is eeuen.
Edg. Horrible steepe. Hearke, do you heare the Sea?
Glou. No truly.
Edg. Why then your other Senses grow imperfect By your eyes anguish.
Glou. So may it be indeed. Me thinkes thy voyce is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase, and matter then thou did'st.
Edg. Y'are much deceiu'd: In nothing am I chang'd But in my Garments.
Glou. Me thinkes y'are better spoken.
Edg. Come on Sir, Heere's the place: stand still: how fearefull And dizie 'tis, to cast ones eyes so low, The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre Shew scarse so grosse as Beetles. Halfe way downe Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade: Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head. The Fishermen, that walk'd vpon the beach Appeare like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Barke, Diminish'd to her Cocke: her Cocke, a Buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge, That on th'vnnumbred idle Pebble chafes Cannot be heard so high. Ile looke no more, Least my braine turne, and the deficient sight Topple downe headlong.
Glou. Set me where you stand.
Edg. Giue me your hand: You are now within a foote of th'extreme Verge: For all beneath the Moone would I not leape vpright.
Glou. Let go my hand: Heere Friend's another purse: in it, a Iewell Well worth a poore mans taking. Fayries, and Gods Prosper it with thee. Go thou further off, Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going.
Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir.
Glou. With all my heart.
Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire, Is done to cure it.
Glou. O you mighty Gods! This world I do renounce, and in your sights
Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could beare it longer, and not fall To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes, My snuffe, and loathed part of Nature should Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him: Now Fellow, fare thee well.
Edg. Gone Sir, farewell: And yet I know not how conceit may rob The Treasury of life, when life it selfe Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought, By this had thought bin past. Aliue, or dead? Hoa, you Sir: Friend, heare you Sir, speake: Thus might he passe indeed: yet he reuiues. What are you Sir?
Glou. Away, and let me dye.
Edg. Had'st thou beene ought But Gozemore, Feathers, Ayre, (So many fathome downe precipitating) Thou'dst shiuer'd like an Egge: but thou do'st breath: Hast heauy substance, bleed'st not, speak'st, art sound, Ten Masts at each, make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell, Thy life's a Myracle. Speake yet againe.
Glou. But haue I falne, or no?
Edg. From the dread Somnet of this Chalkie Bourne Looke vp a height, the shrill‐gorg'd Larke so farre Cannot be seene, or heard: Do but looke vp.
Glou. Alacke, I haue no eyes: Is wretchednesse depriu'd that benefit To end it selfe by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, When misery could beguile the Tyrants rage, And frustrate his proud will.
Edg. Giue me your arme. Vp, so: How is't? Feele you your Legges? You stand.
Glou. Too well, too well.
Edg. This is aboue all strangenesse, Vpon the crowne o'th' Cliffe. What thing was that Which parted from you?
Glou. A poore vnfortunate Beggar.
Edg. As I stood heere below, me thought his eyes Were two full Moones: he had a thousand Noses, Hornes wealk'd, and waued like the enraged Sea: It was some Fiend: Therefore thou happy Father, Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who make them Honors Of mens Impossibilities, haue preserued thee.
Glou. I do remember now: henceforth Ile beare Affliction, till it do cry out it selfe Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you speake of, I tooke it for a man: often 'twould say The Fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place.
Edgar. Beare free and patient thoughts.
Enter Lear.
The safer sense will ne're accommodate His Master thus.
Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the King himselfe.
Edg. O thou side‐piercing sight!
Lear. Nature's aboue Art, in that respect. Ther's your Presse‐money. That fellow handles his bow, like a Crowkeeper: draw mee a Cloathiers yard. Looke, looke, a Mouse: peace, peace, this peece of toasted Cheese will doo't. There's my Gauntlet, Ile proue it on a Gyant. Bring vp the browne Billes. O well flowne Bird: i'th' clout, i'th' clout: Hewgh. Giue the word.
Edg. Sweet Mariorum.
Lear. Passe.
Glou. I know that voice.
Lear. Ha! Gonerill with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a Dogge, and told mee I had the white hayres in my Beard, ere the blacke ones were there. To say I, and no, to euery thing that I said: I, and no too, was no good Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and the winde to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go too, they are not men o'their words; they told me, I was euery thing: 'Tis a Lye, I am not Agu‐proofe.
Glou. The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember: Is't not the King?
Lear. I, euery inch a King. When I do stare, see how the Subiect quakes. I pardon that mans life. What was thy cause? Adultery? thou shalt not dye: dye for Adultery? No, the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly Do's letcher in my sight. Let Copulation thriue: For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his Father, Then my Daughters got 'tweene the lawfull sheets. Too't Luxury pell‐mell, for I lacke Souldiers. Behold yond simpring Dame, whose face betweene her Forkes presages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do's shake the head to heare of pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor the soyled Horse goes too't with a more riotous appetite: Downe from the waste they are Centaures, though Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit, beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkenes, there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption: Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce of Ciuet; good Apothecary sweeten my immagination: There's money for thee.
Glou. O let me kisse that hand.
Lear. Let me wipe it first, It smelles of Mortality.
Glou. O ruin'd peece of Nature, this great world Shall so weare out to naught. Do'st thou know me?
Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough: dost thou squiny at me? No, doe thy worst blinde Cupid, Ile not loue. Reade thou this challenge, marke but the penning of it.
Glou. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not see.
Edg. I would not take this from report, It is, and my heart breakes at it.
Lear. Read.
Glou. What with the Case of eyes?
Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No eies in your head, nor no mony in your purse? Your eyes are in a heauy 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. Looke with thine eares: See how yond Iustice railes vpon yond simple theefe. Hearke in thine eare: Change places, and handy‐dandy, which is the Iustice, which is the theefe: Thou hast seene a Farmers dogge barke at a Beggar?
Glou. I Sir.
Lear. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou mightֺ'st behold the great image of Authoritie, a Dogg's obey'd in Office. Thou, Rascall Beadle, hold thy bloody hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy owne backe, thou hotly lusts to vse her in that kind, for which thou whip'st her. The Vsurer hangs the Cozener.
thorough tatter'd cloathes great Vices do appeare: Robes, and Furr'd gownes hide all. Place sinnes with Gold, and the strong Lance of Iustice, hurtlesse breakes: Arme it in ragges, a Pigmies straw do's pierce it. None do's offend, none, I say none, Ile able 'em; take that of me my Friend, who haue the power to seale th' accusers lips. Get thee glasse‐eyes, and like a scuruy Politician, seeme to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my Bootes: harder, harder, so.
Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt, Reason in Madnesse.
Lear. If thou wilt weepe my Fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well enough, thy name is Glouster: Thou must be patient; we came crying hither: Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the Ayre We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Marke.
Glou. Alacke, alacke the day.
Lear. When we are borne, we cry that we are come To this great stage of Fooles. This a good blocke: It were a delicate stratagem to shoo A Troope of Horse with Felt: Ile put't in proofe, And when I haue stolne vpon these Son in Lawes, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent. Oh heere he is: lay hand vpon him, Sir. Your most deere Daughter ———
Lear. No rescue? What, a Prisoner? I am euen The Naturall Foole of Fortune. Vse me well, You shall haue ransome. Let me haue Surgeons, I am cut to'th' Braines.
Gent. You shall haue any thing.
Lear. No Seconds? All my selfe? Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt To vse his eyes for Garden water‐pots. I wil die brauely, Like a smugge Bridegroome. What? I will be Iouiall: Come, come, I am a King, Masters, know you that?
Gent. You are a Royall one, and we obey you.
Lear. Then there's life in't. Come, and you get it, You shall get it by running: Sa, sa, sa, sa.Exit.
Gent. A sight most pittifull in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast a Daughter Who redeemes Nature from the generall curse Which twaine haue brought her to.
Edg. Haile gentle Sir.
Gent. Sir, speed you: what's your will?
Edg. Do you heare ought (Sir) of a Battell toward.
Gent. Most sure, and vulgar: Euery one heares that, which can distinguish sound.
Edg. But by your fauour: How neere's the other Army?
Gent. Neere, and on speedy foot: the maine descry Stands on the hourely thought.
Edg. I thanke you Sir, that's all.
Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here Her Army is mou'd on. Exit.
Edg. I thanke you Sir.
Glou. You euer gentle Gods, take my breath from me, Let not my worser Spirit tempt me againe To dye before you please.
Edg. Well pray you Father.
Glou. Now good sir, what are you?
Edg. A most poore man, made tame to Fortunes blows Who, by the Art of knowne, and feeling sorrowes, Am pregnant to good pitty. Giue me your hand, Ile leade you to some biding.
Glou. Heartie thankes: The bountie, and the benizon of Heauen To boot, and boot.
Enter Steward.
Stew. A proclaim'd prize: most happie That eyelesse head of thine, was first fram'd flesh To raise my fortunes. Thou old, vnhappy Traitor, Breefely thy selfe remember: the Sword is out That must destroy thee.
Glou. Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough too't.
Stew. Wherefore, bold Pezant, Dar'st thou support a publish'd Traitor? Hence, Least that th'infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arme.
Edg. Chill not let go Zir, Without vurther 'casion.
Stew. Let go Slaue, or thou dy'st.
Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, and let poore volke passe: and 'chud ha'bin zwaggerd out of my life, 'twould not ha'bin zo long as 'tis, by a vortnight. Nay, come not neere th'old man: keepe out che vor'ye, or Ile try whither your Costard, or my Ballow be the harder; chill be plaine with you.
Stew. Out Dunghill.
Edg. Chill picke your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor your foynes.
Stew. Slaue thou hast slaine me: Villain, take my purse; If euer thou wilt thriue, bury my bodie, And giue the Letters which thou find'st about me, To Edmund Earle of Glouster: seeke him out Vpon the English party. Oh vntimely death, death.
Edg. I know thee well. A seruiceable Villaine, As duteous to the vices of thy Mistris, As badnesse would desire.
Glou. What, is he dead?
Edg. Sit you downe Father: rest you. Let's see these Pockets; the Letters that he speakes of May be my Friends: hee's dead; I am onely sorry He had no other Deathsman. Let vs see: Leaue gentle waxe, and manners: blame vs not To know our enemies mindes, we rip their hearts, Their Papers is more lawfull.
Reads the Letter.
Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate Seruant. Gonerill.
A plot vpon her vertuous Husbands life, And the exchange my Brother: heere, in the sands Thee Ile rake vp, the poste vnsanctified Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time, With this vngracious paper strike the sight Of the death‐practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well, That of thy death, and businesse, I can tell.
Glou. The King is mad: How stiffe is my vilde sense That I stand vp, and haue ingenious feeling Of my huge Sorrowes? Better I were distract, So should my thoughts be seuer'd from my greefes, Drum afarre off. And woes, by wrong imaginations loose
The knowledge of themselues.
Edg. Giue me your hand: Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten Drumme. Come Father, Ile bestow you with a Friend. Exeunt.
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