"If You Have Poison for Me, I Will Drink It"
April 23, 2020![]() |
King Lear and the Fool in the Storm |
William Shakespeare
(1564–1616). The Tragedy of King Lear.
Vol. 46, pp. 293-303 of
The Harvard Classics
Shaken and
disillusioned by the treachery of his elder daughter, King Lear
suspected even the faithful Cordelia of evil designs. Her most tender
efforts to comfort him failed to drive away the insistent specter of
his madness.
(Shakespeare died
April 23, 1616.)
Act IV
Scene
VI
[...]
Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up.
Glou. Alack, I have
no eyes.
Is wretchedness depriv’d that benefit,
To end itself by death? ’Twas yet some comfort,
When misery could beguile the tyrant’s rage,
And frustrate his proud will.
Edg. Give
me your arm.
Up: so. How is ’t? Feel you your legs? You
stand.
Glou. Too well, too
well.
Edg. This
is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o’ the cliff, what thing was that
Which parted from you?
Glou. A
poor unfortunate beggar.
Edg. As I stood here
below, methought his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father,
Of men’s impossibilities, have preserv’d thee.
Glou. I do remember
now. Henceforth I’ll bear
Affliction till it do cry out itself,
“Enough, enough,” and die. That thing you
speak of,
I took it for a man; often ’twould say,
“The fiend, the fiend!” He led me to that
place.
Edg. Bear free and
patient thoughts.
Enter LEAR [fantastically
dressed with wild flowers]
But who comes here?
His master thus.
Lear. No, they
cannot touch me for coining;
I am the King himself.
Edg. O thou
side-piercing sight!
Lear. Nature’s
above art in that respect. There’s your press-money. That fellow
handles his bow like a crow-keeper; draw me a clothier’s yard.
Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted cheese will
do ’t. There’s my gauntlet; I’ll prove it on a giant. Bring up
the brown bills. O, well flown, bird! I’ the clout, 8 i’
the clout! Hewgh! Give the word. 9
Edg. Sweet marjoram.
Lear. Pass.
Glou. I know that
voice.
Lear. Ha! Goneril,
with a white beard! They flatter’d me like a dog, and told me I had
the white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say
“ay” and “no” to everything that I said! “Ay” and “no”
too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once, and the
wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my
bidding; there I found ’em, there I smelt ’em out. Go to, they
are not men o’ their words: they told me I was everything; ’tis a
lie, I am not ague-proof.
Glou. The trick of
that voice I do well remember.
Is ’t not the King?
Lear. Ay,
every inch a king!
When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
Adultery?
Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery! No:
The wren goes to ’t, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.
Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester’s bastard
son
Was kinder to his father than my daughters
Got ’tween the lawful sheets.
Behold yond simp’ring dame,
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure’s name,—
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
Though women all above;
But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiends’;
There’s hell, there’s darkness, there’s the
sulphurous pit,
Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, fie,
fie! pah, pah!
Give me an ounce of civet; good apothecary,
sweeten my imagination.
There’s money for thee.
Glou. O, let me kiss
that hand!
Lear. Let me wipe it
first; it smells of mortality.
Glou. O ruin’d
piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me?
Lear. I
remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny 15 at
me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid; I’ll not love. Read thou this
challenge; mark but the penning of it.
Glou. Were all thy
letters suns, I could not see.
Edg. [Aside.] I
would not take this from report. It is; and my heart breaks at it.
Lear. Read.
Lear. O, ho, are you
there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your
eyes are in a heavy 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. Look with thine ears;
see how yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in thine
ear: change places, and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is
the thief? Thou has seen a farmer’s dog bark at a beggar?
Glou. Ay, sir.
Lear. And the
creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image
of authority: a dog’s obey’d in office.
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thy own back;
Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind
Through tatter’d clothes great vices do appear;
Robes and furr’d gowns hide all. Plate sins with
gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks;
Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw does pierce it.
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal the accuser’s lips. Get thee glass eyes,
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now,
now.
Pull off my boots; harder, harder: so.
Reason in madness!
Lear. If thou wilt
weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester.
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither.
Thou know’st, the first time that we smell the
air,
We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee; mark.
Glou. Alack, alack
the day!
Lear. When we are
born, we cry that we are come
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
And when I have stol’n upon these son-in-laws,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!
Enter a Gentleman
[with Attendants]
Gent. O, here he is! Lay hand upon him. Sir,
Your most dear daughter—
Lear. No rescue?
What, a prisoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune. Use me well;
You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons;
I am cut to the brains.
Gent. You
shall have anything.
Lear. No seconds?
All myself?
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
[Ay, and laying autumn’s dust.
Gent. Good
sir,—]
Lear. I
will die bravely, like a smug 23 bridegroom.
What! I will be jovial. Come, come; I am a king,
My masters, know you that?
My masters, know you that?
Gent. You are a
royal one, and we obey you.
Lear. Then there’s
life in ’t. Come, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa,
sa, sa, sa. Exit [running; Attendants follow].
Gent. A sight most
pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter
Who redeems Nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.
Edg. Hail, gentle
sir.
Gent. Sir,
speed you: what’s your will?
Edg. Do you hear
aught, sir, of a battle toward?
Which can distinguish sound.
Edg. But,
by your favour,
How near’s the other army?
Stands on the hourly thought.
Edg. I thank you,
sir; that’s all.
Gent. Though that
the Queen on special cause is here,
Her army is mov’d on. Exit.
Edg. I
thank you, sir.
Glou. You
ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!
Edg. Well
pray you, father.
Glou. Now, good sir,
what are you?
Edg. A most poor
man, made tame to fortune’s blows;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
I’ll lead you to some biding.
Glou. Hearty
thanks;
The bounty and the benison of Heaven
To boot, and boot!
Enter Steward [OSWALD]
Osw. A proclaim’d prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram’d
flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember; the sword is out
That must destroy thee.
Glou. Now
let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to ’t. [EDGAR interposes.]
Osw. Wherefore,
bold peasant,
Lest that the infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
Osw. Let go, slave,
or thou diest!
Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and
let poor volk pass. An ’chud 29 ha’ bin
zwagger’d out of my life, ’t would not ha’bin zo long as ’tis
by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’ old man; keep out, ’che
vor ye, 30 or Ise try whether your costard 31 or
my ballow 32 be the harder. ’Chill be plain
with you.
Osw. Out, dunghill!
Edg. ’Chill
pick your teeth, zir. Come, no matter vor your foins. 33 [They
fight, andEDGAR knocks him down.]
Osw. Slave, thou
hast slain me. Villain, take my purse.
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
And give the letters which thou find’st about me
To Edmund, Earl of Gloucester; seek him out
Death! Dies.
Edg. I know thee
well; a serviceable villain,
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire.
Glou. What,
is he dead?
Edg. Sit you down,
father; rest you.
Let’s see these pockets; the letters that he
speaks of
May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorry
He had no other death’s-man. Let us see.
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not.
To know our enemies’ minds, we rip their hearts;
Their papers, is more lawful.
(Reads the letter.) “Let our
reciprocal vows be rememb’red. You have many opportunities to cut
him off; if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully
offer’d. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror; then am
I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the loathed warmth whereof
deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.
“Your—wife, so I would
say—
“Affectionate servant,
“Affectionate servant,
“GONERIL.”
A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life;
And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands,
Thee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
That of thy death and business I can tell.
Glou. The King is
mad; how stiff is my vile sense
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract;
So should my thoughts be sever’d from my
griefs, Drum afar off.
And woes by wrong imaginations lose
The knowledge of themselves.
Edg. Give me your
hand.
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I’ll bestow 39 you
with a friend. Exeunt.
Note
1. Boundary.
Note
39. Lodge.
Scene
VII
[A tent in the French
camp]
Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor
Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor
Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.
Kent. To be
acknowledg’d, madam, is o’er-paid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Cor. Be
better suited;
These weeds are memories of those worser hours.
I prithee, put them off.
Kent. Pardon,
dear madam;
My boon I make it, that you know me not
Till time and I think meet.
Cor. Then be ’t
so, my good lord. [To the Doctor.] How does the King?
Doct. Madam, sleeps
still.
Cor. O you kind
gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untun’d and jarring senses, O, wind up
Doct. So
please your Majesty
That we may wake the King? He hath slept long.
Cor. Be govern’d
by your knowledge, and proceed
I’ the sway of your own will.
Enter LEAR in
a chair carried by Servants. [Gentleman in
attendance]
Is he array’d?
Gent. Ay, madam; in
the heaviness of sleep
We put fresh garments on him.
Doct. Be by, good
madam, when we do awake him;
[Cor. Very
well.
Doct. Please you,
draw near.—Louder the music there!]
Cor. O my dear
father! Restoration hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
Kent. Kind
and dear princess!
Cor. Had you not
been their father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face
To be oppos’d against the warring winds?
[To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
With this thin helm?] Mine enemy’s dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
’Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.
Doct. Madam, do you;
’tis fittest.
Cor. How does my
royal lord? How fares your Majesty?
Lear. You do me
wrong to take me out o’ the grave.
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
Cor. Sir,
do you know me?
Lear. You are a
spirit, I know; when did you die?
Doct. He’s scarce
awake; let him alone a while.
Lear. Where have I
been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abus’d. I should even die with
pity,
To see another thus. I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands. Let’s see;
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur’d
Of my condition!
Cor. O,
look upon me, sir,
And hold your hand in benediction o’er me.
[No, sir,] you must not kneel.
Lear. Pray,
do not mock me.
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
What place this is, and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
Cor. And
so I am, I am.
Lear. Be your tears
wet? Yes, faith. I pray, weep not.
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong;
You have some cause, they have not.
Cor. No
cause, no cause.
Lear. Am I in
France?
Kent. In
your own kingdom, sir.
Lear. Do not abuse
me.
You see, is kill’d in him: [and yet it is danger
To make him even o’er the time he has lost.]
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more
Till further settling.
Cor. Will ’t
please your Highness walk?
Lear. You
must bear with me.
Pray you now, forget and forgive; I am old and
foolish. Exeunt [all
but KENT andGentleman].
[Gent. Holds it
true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
Kent. Most certain,
sir.
Gent. Who is
conductor of his people?
Kent. As ’tis
said, the bastard son of Gloucester.
Gent. They say
Edgar, his banish’d son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.
Kent. Report is
changeable. ’Tis time to look about; the powers of the kingdom
approach apace.
Fare you well, sir. [Exit.]
Kent. My point and
period will be throughly wrought,
Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s
fought.] Exit.
Note
1. Shortened.
Note
10. Decision.
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