READ STUDY GUIDE: Act III, scenes iv–v |
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Act III, Scene iv:
A part of the Heath with a Hovel. Storm continues.
A part of the Heath with a Hovel. Storm continues.
| [Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.] |
| Kent.: |
| Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: |
| The tyranny of the open night's too rough |
| For nature to endure. |
| Lear.: |
| Let me alone. |
| Kent.: |
| Good my lord, enter here. |
| Lear.: |
| Wilt break my heart? |
| Kent.: |
| I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. |
| Lear.: |
| Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm |
| Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee |
| But where the greater malady is fix'd, |
| The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear; |
| But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, |
| Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind's free, |
| The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind |
| Doth from my senses take all feeling else |
| Save what beats there.—Filial ingratitude! |
| Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand |
| For lifting food to't?—But I will punish home:— |
| No, I will weep no more.—In such a night |
| To shut me out!—Pour on; I will endure:— |
| In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!— |
| Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,— |
| O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; |
| No more of that. |
| Kent.: |
| Good my lord, enter here. |
| Lear.: |
| Pr'ythee go in thyself; seek thine own ease: |
| This tempest will not give me leave to ponder |
| On things would hurt me more.—But I'll go in.— |
| [To the Fool.] In, boy; go first.—You houseless poverty,— |
| Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.— |
| [Fool goes in.] |
| Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, |
| That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, |
| How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, |
| Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you |
| From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en |
| Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; |
| Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, |
| That thou mayst shake the superflux to them |
| And show the heavens more just. |
| Edg.: |
| [Within.] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! |
| [The Fool runs out from the hovel.] |
| Fool.: |
| Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. |
| Help me, help me! |
| Kent.: |
| Give me thy hand.—Who's there? |
| Fool.: |
| A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom. |
| Kent.: |
| What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw? |
| Come forth. |
| [Enter Edgar, disguised as a madman.] |
| Edg.: |
| Away! the foul fiend follows me!— |
| Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.— |
| Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. |
| Lear.: |
| Didst thou give all to thy two daughters? |
| And art thou come to this? |
| Edg.: |
| Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led |
| through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er |
| bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow and |
| halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud |
| of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse over four-inched |
| bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor.—Bless thy five |
| wits!—Tom's a-cold.—O, do de, do de, do de.—Bless thee from |
| whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, |
| whom the foul fiend vexes:—there could I have him now,—and |
| there,—and there again, and there. |
| [Storm continues.] |
| Lear.: |
| What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?— |
| Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give 'em all? |
| Fool.: |
| Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all shamed. |
| Lear.: |
| Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air |
| Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! |
| Kent.: |
| He hath no daughters, sir. |
| Lear.: |
| Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd nature |
| To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.— |
| Is it the fashion that discarded fathers |
| Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? |
| Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot |
| Those pelican daughters. |
| Edg.: |
| Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill:— |
| Halloo, halloo, loo loo! |
| Fool.: |
| This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. |
| Edg.: |
| Take heed o' th' foul fiend: obey thy parents; keep thy word |
| justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not |
| thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold. |
| Lear.: |
| What hast thou been? |
| Edg.: |
| A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair; |
| wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of my mistress' heart, and |
| did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake |
| words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that |
| slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it: wine loved |
| I deeply, dice dearly; and in woman out-paramour'd the Turk; |
| false of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox |
| in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. |
| Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray |
| thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot out of brothel, thy hand |
| out of placket, thy pen from lender's book, and defy the foul |
| fiend.—Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: says |
| suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa! let him trot by. |
| [Storm still continues.] |
| Lear.: |
| Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy |
| uncovered body this extremity of the skies.—Is man no more than |
| this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast |
| no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume.—Ha! here's three |
| on's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself: |
| unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked |
| animal as thou art.—Off, off, you lendings!—Come, unbutton |
| here. |
| [Tears off his clothes.] |
| Fool.: |
| Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night to swim |
| in.—Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's |
| heart,—a small spark, all the rest on's body cold.—Look, here |
| comes a walking fire. |
| Edg.: |
| This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins at curfew, |
| and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin, |
| squints the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat, |
| and hurts the poor creature of earth. |
 Swithold footed thrice the old; |
| He met the nightmare, and her nine-fold; |
| Bid her alight |
| And her troth plight, |
| And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! |
| Kent.: |
| How fares your grace? |
| [Enter Gloster with a torch.] |
| Lear.: |
| What's he? |
| Kent.: |
| Who's there? What is't you seek? |
| Glou.: |
| What are you there? Your names? |
| Edg.: |
| Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the |
| wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the |
| foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat |
| and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; |
| who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished, |
| and imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts |
| to his body, horse to ride, and weapons to wear;— |
| But mice and rats, and such small deer, |
| Have been Tom's food for seven long year. |
| Beware my follower.—Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend! |
| Glou.: |
| What, hath your grace no better company? |
| Edg.: |
| The prince of darkness is a gentleman: |
| Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. |
| Glou.: |
| Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile |
| That it doth hate what gets it. |
| Edg.: |
| Poor Tom's a-cold. |
| Glou.: |
| Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer |
| To obey in all your daughters' hard commands; |
| Though their injunction be to bar my doors, |
| And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, |
| Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out |
| And bring you where both fire and food is ready. |
| Lear.: |
| First let me talk with this philosopher.— |
| What is the cause of thunder? |
| Kent.: |
| Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house. |
| Lear.: |
| I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.— |
| What is your study? |
| Edg.: |
| How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin. |
| Lear.: |
| Let me ask you one word in private. |
| Kent.: |
| Importune him once more to go, my lord; |
| His wits begin to unsettle. |
| Glou.: |
| Canst thou blame him? |
| His daughters seek his death:—ah, that good Kent!— |
| He said it would be thus,—poor banish'd man!— |
| Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, |
| I am almost mad myself: I had a son, |
| Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life |
| But lately, very late: I lov'd him, friend,— |
| No father his son dearer: true to tell thee, |
| [Storm continues.] |
| The grief hath craz'd my wits.—What a night's this!— |
| I do beseech your grace,— |
| Lear.: |
| O, cry you mercy, sir.— |
| Noble philosopher, your company. |
| Edg.: |
| Tom's a-cold. |
| Glou.: |
| In, fellow, there, into the hovel; keep thee warm. |
| Lear.: |
| Come, let's in all. |
| Kent.: |
| This way, my lord. |
| Lear.: |
| With him; |
| I will keep still with my philosopher. |
| Kent.: |
| Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow. |
| Glou.: |
| Take him you on. |
| Kent.: |
| Sirrah, come on; go along with us. |
| Lear.: |
| Come, good Athenian. |
| Glou.: |
| No words, no words: hush. |
| Edg.: |
| Child Rowland to the dark tower came, |
| His word was still—Fie, foh, and fum, |
| I smell the blood of a British man. |
| [Exeunt.] |
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