READ STUDY GUIDE: Act IV, scenes vi–vii |
|
Act IV, Scene vi:
The country near Dover.
The country near Dover.
| [Enter Gloster, and Edgar dressed like a peasant.] |
| Glou.: |
| When shall I come to the top of that same hill? |
| Edg.: |
| You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. |
| Glou.: |
| Methinks the ground is even. |
| Edg.: |
| Horrible steep. |
| Hark, do you hear the sea? |
| Glou.: |
| No, truly. |
| Edg.: |
| Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect |
| By your eyes' anguish. |
| Glou.: |
| So may it be indeed: |
| Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st |
| In better phrase and matter than thou didst. |
| Edg.: |
| You are much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd |
| But in my garments. |
| Glou.: |
| Methinks you're better spoken. |
| Edg.: |
| Come on, sir; here's the place:—stand still.—How fearful |
| And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! |
| The crows and choughs that wing the midway air |
| Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down |
| Hangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade! |
| Methinks he seems no bigger than his head: |
| The fishermen that walk upon the beach |
| Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark, |
| Diminish'd to her cock; her cock a buoy |
| Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge |
| That on the unnumber'd idle pebble chafes |
| Cannot be heard so high.—I'll look no more; |
| Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight |
| Topple down headlong. |
| Glou.: |
| Set me where you stand. |
| Edg.: |
| Give me your hand:—you are now within a foot |
| Of th' extreme verge: for all beneath the moon |
| Would I not leap upright. |
| Glou.: |
| Let go my hand. |
| Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel |
| Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods |
| Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off; |
| Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. |
| Edg.: |
| Now fare ye well, good sir. |
| [Seems to go.] |
| Glou.: |
| With all my heart. |
| Edg.: |
| [Aside.] Why I do trifle thus with his despair |
| 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 bear it longer, and not fall |
| To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, |
| My snuff and loathed part of nature should |
| Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!— |
| Now, fellow, fare thee well. |
| Edg.: |
| Gone, sir:—farewell.— |
| [Gloster leaps, and falls along.] |
| And yet I know not how conceit may rob |
| The treasury of life when life itself |
| Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought, |
| By this had thought been past.—Alive or dead? |
| Ho you, sir! friend! Hear you, sir?—speak!— |
| Thus might he pass indeed:—yet he revives.— |
| What are you, sir? |
| Glou.: |
| Away, and let me die. |
| Edg.: |
| Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, |
| So many fathom down precipitating, |
| Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe; |
| Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound. |
| Ten masts at each make not the altitude |
| Which thou hast perpendicularly fell: |
| Thy life is a miracle.—Speak yet again. |
| Glou.: |
| But have I fall'n, or no? |
| Edg.: |
| From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. |
| Look up a-height;—the shrill-gorg'd lark so far |
| 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, |
| Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea: |
| It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father, |
| Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours |
| Of men's impossibility, 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.—But who comes here? |
| [Enter Lear, fantastically dressed up with flowers.] |
| The safer sense will ne'er accommodate |
| 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, i' the clout: hewgh!—Give the word. |
| Edg.: |
| Sweet marjoram. |
| Lear.: |
| Pass. |
| Glou.: |
| I know that voice. |
| Lear.: |
| Ha! Goneril with a white beard!—They flattered me like a dog; |
| and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were |
| there. To say 'ay' and 'no' to everything 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. |
| I pardon that man's life.—What was thy cause?— |
| 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 Gloster's bastard son |
| Was kinder to his father than my daughters |
| Got 'tween the lawful sheets. |
| To't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.— |
| Behold yond simpering dame, |
| Whose face between her forks presages snow; |
| That minces virtue, and does shake the head |
| To hear of pleasure's name;— |
| The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to't |
| 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 fiend's; there's hell, there's darkness, |
| There is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, |
| consumption; fie, fie, fie! pah, pah! |
| Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to 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 naught.—Dost thou know me? |
| Lear.: |
| I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny 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 the letters suns, I could not see one. |
| Edg.: |
| I would not take this from report;—it is, |
| And my heart breaks at it. |
| Lear.: |
| Read. |
| Glou.: |
| What, with the case of eyes? |
| 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 the 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 hast 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 obeyed in office.— |
| Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! |
| Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; |
| Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind |
| For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. |
| Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; |
| Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, |
| And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks; |
| Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw does pierce it. |
| None does offend, none.—I say none; I'll able 'em: |
| 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. |
| Edg.: |
| O, matter and impertinency mix'd! |
| Reason, in madness! |
| Lear.: |
| If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. |
| I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster: |
| 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 |
| To this great stage of fools—This' a good block:— |
| It were a delicate stratagem to shoe |
| A troop of horse with felt: I'll put't in proof,; |
| And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law, |
| 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? |
| Why, this would make a man a man of salt, |
| To use his eyes for garden water-pots, |
| Ay, and for laying Autumn's dust. |
| Gent.: |
| Good sir,— |
| Lear.: |
| I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What! |
| I will be jovial: come, come, I am a king, |
| My masters, know you that. |
| Gent.: |
| You are a royal one, and we obey you. |
| Lear.: |
| Then there's life in't. Nay, 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? |
| Gent.: |
| Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that |
| Which can distinguish sound. |
| Edg.: |
| But, by your favour, |
| How near's the other army? |
| Gent.: |
| Near and on speedy foot; the main descry |
| 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. |
| Edg.: |
| I thank you, sir. |
| [Exit Gentleman.] |
| 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, |
| Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, |
| I'll lead you to some biding. |
| Glou.: |
| Hearty thanks: |
| The bounty and the benison of heaven |
| To boot, and boot! |
| [Enter 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 it. |
| [Edgar interposes.] |
| Osw.: |
| Wherefore, bold peasant, |
| Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence; |
| Lest that the infection of his fortune take |
| Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. |
| Edg.: |
| Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. |
| Osw.: |
| Let go, slave, or thou diest! |
| Edg.: |
| Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor voke pass. An chud |
| ha' bin zwaggered out of my life, 'twould not ha' bin zo long as |
| 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man; keep out, |
| che vore ye, or ise try whether your costard or my bat be the |
| harder: chill be plain with you. |
| Osw.: |
| Out, dunghill! |
| Edg.: |
| Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come! No matter vor your foins. |
| [They fight, and Edgar 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 Gloster; seek him out |
| Upon the British party: O, untimely 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'd rip their hearts; |
| Their papers is more lawful. |
| [Reads.] 'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many |
| opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and |
| place will be fruitfully offered. 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, |
| 'Goneril.' |
| O indistinguish'd space of woman's will! |
| 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 |
| Of the death-practis'd duke: for him 'tis well |
| That of thy death and business I can tell. |
| [Exit Edgar, dragging out the body.] |
| Glou.: |
| The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense, |
| That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling |
| Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract: |
| So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs, |
| And woes by wrong imaginations lose |
| The knowledge of themselves. |
| Edg.: |
| Give me your hand: |
| [A drum afar off.] |
| Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum: |
| Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. |
| [Exeunt.] |
|
|
||||
|




