ACT V
SCENE III. The British Camp near Dover
[Enter in conquest with drum and colours, Edmund, Lear and Cordelia as prisoners; Officers, Soldiers, &c.]
EDMUND
Some officers take them away: good guard
Until their greater pleasures first be known
That are to censure them.
CORDELIA
We are not the first
Who with best meaning have incurr’d the worst.
For thee, oppressed King, I am cast down;
Myself could else out-frown false fortune’s frown.
Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?
LEAR
No, no, no, no. Come, let’s away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing I’ll kneel down
And ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
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’s the mystery of things,
As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out,
In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great ones
That ebb and flow by the moon.
EDMUND
Take them away.
LEAR
Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?
He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven,
And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes;
The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell,
Ere they shall make us weep!
We’ll see ’em starve first: come.
[Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded.]
EDMUND
Come hither, captain, hark.
Take thou this note [giving a paper]; go follow them to prison.
One step I have advanc’d thee; if thou dost
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
To noble fortunes: know thou this, that men
Are as the time is; to be tender-minded
Does not become a sword. Thy great employment
Will not bear question; either say thou’lt do’t,
Or thrive by other means.
CAPTAIN
I’ll do’t, my lord.
EDMUND
About it; and write happy when thou hast done.
Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so
As I have set it down.
CAPTAIN
I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats;
If it be man’s work, I’ll do’t.
[Exit.]
[Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Officers and Attendants.]
ALBANY
Sir, you have show’d today your valiant strain,
And fortune led you well: you have the captives
Who were the opposites of this day’s strife:
I do require them of you, so to use them
As we shall find their merits and our safety
May equally determine.
EDMUND
Sir, I thought it fit
To send the old and miserable King
To some retention and appointed guard;
Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
To pluck the common bosom on his side,
And turn our impress’d lances in our eyes
Which do command them. With him I sent the queen;
My reason all the same; and they are ready
Tomorrow, or at further space, to appear
Where you shall hold your session. At this time
We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
And the best quarrels in the heat are curs’d
By those that feel their sharpness.
The question of Cordelia and her father
Requires a fitter place.
ALBANY
Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother.
REGAN
That’s as we list to grace him.
Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers;
Bore the commission of my place and person;
The which immediacy may well stand up
And call itself your brother.
GONERIL
Not so hot:
In his own grace he doth exalt himself,
More than in your addition.
REGAN
In my rights,
By me invested, he compeers the best.
ALBANY
That were the most, if he should husband you.
REGAN
Jesters do oft prove prophets.
GONERIL
Holla, holla!
That eye that told you so look’d but asquint.
REGAN
Lady, I am not well; else I should answer
From a full-flowing stomach. General,
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;
Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine:
Witness the world that I create thee here
My lord and master.
GONERIL
Mean you to enjoy him?
ALBANY
The let-alone lies not in your good will.
EDMUND
Nor in thine, lord.
ALBANY
Half-blooded fellow, yes.
REGAN
[To Edmund.] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.
ALBANY
Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I arrest thee
On capital treason; and, in thine arrest,
This gilded serpent. [pointing to Goneril.]
For your claim, fair sister,
I bar it in the interest of my wife;
’Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
And I her husband contradict your bans.
If you will marry, make your loves to me,
My lady is bespoke.
GONERIL
An interlude!
ALBANY
Thou art arm’d, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound:
If none appear to prove upon thy person
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
There is my pledge. [Throwing down a glove.]
I’ll make it on thy heart,
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
Than I have here proclaim’d thee.
REGAN
Sick, O, sick!
GONERIL
[Aside.] If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine.
EDMUND
There’s my exchange. [Throwing down a glove.]
What in the world he is
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies.
Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
On him, on you, who not? I will maintain
My truth and honour firmly.
ALBANY
A herald, ho!
[Enter a Herald.]
Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge.
REGAN
My sickness grows upon me.
ALBANY
She is not well. Convey her to my tent.
[Exit Regan, led.]
Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound And read out this.
OFFICER
Sound, trumpet!
[A trumpet sounds.]
HERALD
[Reads.] ‘If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.’
EDMUND
Sound!
[First trumpet.]
HERALD
Again!
[Second trumpet.]
HERALD
Again!
[Third trumpet. Trumpet answers within. Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a trumpet.]
ALBANY
Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Upon this call o’ the trumpet.
HERALD
What are you?
Your name, your quality? and why you answer
This present summons?
EDGAR
Know my name is lost;
By treason’s tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit.
Yet am I noble as the adversary
I come to cope.
ALBANY
Which is that adversary?
EDGAR
What’s he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?
EDMUND
Himself, what say’st thou to him?
EDGAR
Draw thy sword,
That if my speech offend a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
My oath, and my profession: I protest,
Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune,
Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor;
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
Conspirant ’gainst this high illustrious prince;
And, from the extremest upward of thy head
To the descent and dust beneath thy foot,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou ‘No,’
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest.
EDMUND
In wisdom I should ask thy name;
But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,
What safe and nicely I might well delay
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn.
Back do I toss those treasons to thy head,
With the hell-hated lie o’erwhelm thy heart;
Which for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak!
[Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls.]
ALBANY
Save him, save him!
GONERIL
This is mere practice, Gloucester:
By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish’d,
But cozen’d and beguil’d.
ALBANY
Shut your mouth, dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it. Hold, sir;
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil.
No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.
[Gives the letter to Edmund.]
GONERIL
Say if I do, the laws are mine, not thine:
Who can arraign me for’t?
[Exit.]
ALBANY
Most monstrous! O!
Know’st thou this paper?
EDMUND
Ask me not what I know.
ALBANY
[To an Officer, who goes out.] Go after her; she’s desperate; govern her.
EDMUND
What you have charg’d me with, that have I done;
And more, much more; the time will bring it out.
’Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou
That hast this fortune on me? If thou’rt noble,
I do forgive thee.
EDGAR
Let’s exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more thou hast wrong’d me.
My name is Edgar and thy father’s son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us:
The dark and vicious place where thee he got
Cost him his eyes.
EDMUND
Thou hast spoken right, ’tis true;
The wheel is come full circle; I am here.
ALBANY
Methought thy very gait did prophesy
A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee.
Let sorrow split my heart if ever I
Did hate thee or thy father.
EDGAR
Worthy prince, I know’t.
ALBANY
Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father?
EDGAR
By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale;
And when ’tis told, O that my heart would burst!
The bloody proclamation to escape
That follow’d me so near,—O, our lives’ sweetness!
That with the pain of death we’d hourly die
Rather than die at once!—taught me to shift
Into a madman’s rags; t’assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain’d; and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begg’d for him, sav’d him from despair;
Never,—O fault!—reveal’d myself unto him
Until some half hour past, when I was arm’d;
Not sure, though hoping of this good success,
I ask’d his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw’d heart,
Alack, too weak the conflict to support!
’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.
EDMUND
This speech of yours hath mov’d me,
And shall perchance do good, but speak you on;
You look as you had something more to say.
ALBANY
If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.
EDGAR
This would have seem’d a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more,
And top extremity.
Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man
Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
Shunn’d my abhorr’d society; but then finding
Who ’twas that so endur’d, with his strong arms
He fastened on my neck, and bellow’d out
As he’d burst heaven; threw him on my father;
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him
That ever ear receiv’d, which in recounting
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded,
And there I left him tranc’d.
ALBANY
But who was this?
EDGAR
Kent, sir, the banish’d Kent; who in disguise
Follow’d his enemy king and did him service
Improper for a slave.
[Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody knife.]
GENTLEMAN
Help, help! O, help!
EDGAR
What kind of help?
ALBANY
Speak, man.
EDGAR
What means this bloody knife?
GENTLEMAN
’Tis hot, it smokes;
It came even from the heart of—O! she’s dead!
ALBANY
Who dead? Speak, man.
GENTLEMAN
Your lady, sir, your lady; and her sister
By her is poisoned; she hath confesses it.
EDMUND
I was contracted to them both, all three
Now marry in an instant.
EDGAR
Here comes Kent.
[Enter Kent.]
ALBANY
Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead.
This judgement of the heavens that makes us tremble
Touches us not with pity. O, is this he?
The time will not allow the compliment
Which very manners urges.
KENT
I am come
To bid my King and master aye good night:
Is he not here?
ALBANY
Great thing of us forgot!
Speak, Edmund, where’s the King? and where’s Cordelia?
[The bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in.]
Seest thou this object, Kent?
KENT
Alack, why thus?
EDMUND
Yet Edmund was belov’d.
The one the other poisoned for my sake,
And after slew herself.
ALBANY
Even so. Cover their faces.
EDMUND
I pant for life. Some good I mean to do,
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,
Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ
Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia;
Nay, send in time.
ALBANY
Run, run, O, run!
EDGAR
To who, my lord? Who has the office? Send
Thy token of reprieve.
EDMUND
Well thought on: take my sword,
Give it the captain.
EDGAR
Haste thee for thy life.
[Exit Edgar.]
EDMUND
He hath commission from thy wife and me
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
To lay the blame upon her own despair,
That she fordid herself.
ALBANY
The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.
[Edmund is borne off.]
[Enter Lear with Cordelia dead in his arms; Edgar, Officer and others following.]
LEAR
Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone.
Had I your tongues and eyes, I’ld use them so
That heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone for ever!
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
She’s dead as earth. Lend me a looking glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.
KENT
Is this the promis’d end?
EDGAR
Or image of that horror?
ALBANY
Fall, and cease!
LEAR
This feather stirs; she lives! If it be so,
It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.
KENT
O, my good master! [Kneeling.]
LEAR
Prythee, away!
EDGAR
’Tis noble Kent, your friend.
LEAR
A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
I might have sav’d her; now she’s gone for ever!
Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!
What is’t thou say’st? Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
I kill’d the slave that was a-hanging thee.
OFFICER
’Tis true, my lords, he did.
LEAR
Did I not, fellow?
I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion
I would have made them skip. I am old now,
And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you?
Mine eyes are not o’ the best, I’ll tell you straight.
KENT
If Fortune brag of two she lov’d and hated,
One of them we behold.
LEAR
This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?
KENT
The same,
Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?
LEAR
He’s a good fellow, I can tell you that;
He’ll strike, and quickly too:. He’s dead and rotten.
KENT
No, my good lord; I am the very man.
LEAR
I’ll see that straight.
KENT
That from your first of difference and decay
Have follow’d your sad steps.
LEAR
You are welcome hither.
KENT
Nor no man else. All’s cheerless, dark and deadly.
Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves,
And desperately are dead.
LEAR
Ay, so I think.
ALBANY
He knows not what he says; and vain is it
That we present us to him.
EDGAR
Very bootless.
[Enter an Officer.]
OFFICER
Edmund is dead, my lord.
ALBANY
That’s but a trifle here.
You lords and noble friends, know our intent.
What comfort to this great decay may come
Shall be applied. For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old majesty,
To him our absolute power;
[to Edgar and Kent] you to your rights;
With boot and such addition as your honours
Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue and all foes
The cup of their deservings. O, see, see!
LEAR
And my poor fool is hang’d! No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her: look, her lips,
Look there, look there!
[He dies.]
EDGAR
He faints! My lord, my lord!
KENT
Break, heart; I prythee break!
EDGAR
Look up, my lord.
KENT
Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! He hates him
That would upon the rack of this rough world
Stretch him out longer.
EDGAR
He is gone indeed.
KENT
The wonder is, he hath endur’d so long:
He but usurp’d his life.
ALBANY
Bear them from hence. Our present business
Is general woe. [To Edgar and Kent.] Friends of my soul, you twain,
Rule in this realm and the gor’d state sustain.
KENT
I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
My master calls me, I must not say no.
EDGAR
The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most; we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
[Exeunt with a dead march.]