King Lear Page #7

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My breath and blood! Fiery?

Go! Tell the Duke and his wife

I'd speak with them now, presently!

Bid them come forth and hear me!

Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum

till it cry sleep to death!

I would have all well betwixt you.

O... me...

My heart...

My rising heart!

But down!

Cry to it, nuncle,

as the cockney did to the eels

when she put them in the pastry alive.

She knapped 'em on the coxcomb with a stick,

and cried, "Down, wantons, down!"

Who comes here?

Good morrow to you both.

- Hail to your grace!

- I am glad to see your highness.

Regan! I think you are.

O, are you free?

Some other time for that.

Beloved Regan, thy sister's naught.

O Regan, she hath tied sharp-toothed

unkindness like a vulture here.

I can scarce speak to thee.

Thou wouldst not believe

with how depraved a quality... O Regan!

I pray you, sir, take patience.

I have hope you less know how to value

her desert than she to scant her duty.

Say, how is that?

I cannot think my sister in the least

would fail her obligation.

If, sir, perchance, she have restrained

the riots of your followers...

- My curses on her.

- O, sir, you are old.

Hmm?

Nature in you stands on the very verge

of her confine.

You should be ruled and led

by some discretion

that discerns your state

better than you yourself.

Therefore I pray you that to our sister you

do make return. Say you have wronged her.

Ask her forgiveness? Ha ha ha!

Do you but mark how this becomes the house?

"Dear daughter, I confess that I am old.

Age is unnecessary.

"On my knee I beg that you'll vouchsafe me

raiment, bed, and food."

Sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks.

Return you to my sister.

Never! Regan, she hath abated me

of half my train...

looked black upon me,

struck me with her looks.

All the stored vengeances of heaven fall

on her ingrateful top!

Strike her young bones, you taking airs,

with lameness!

- Fie, sir, fie!

- You nimble lightnings,

dart your blinding flames

into her scornful eyes!

O the blest gods! So will you wish on me

when the rash mood is on.

No, Regan...

Thou shalt never have my curse.

Thy tender-hearted nature

shall not give thee o'er to harshness.

Her eyes are fierce,

but thine do comfort, and not burn.

Thy half of the kingdom thou hast not forgot,

wherein I thee endow'd.

Good sir, to the purpose.

Who put my man in the stocks?

- What trumpet's that?

- I know't. My sister's.

This approves her letter

that she would soon be here.

Who stocked my servant?

Regan, I have good hope

thou didst not know of it.

Who comes here?

O heavens,

if you do love old men,

if yourselves be old,

make it your cause!

Send down and take my part!

Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? Eh?

Regan!

Regan...

will you take her by the hand?

Why not by the hand, sir?

How have I offended?

All's not offence that indiscretion finds...

and dotage terms so.

O sides, you are too tough!

Will you yet hold?

How came my man in the stocks?

I set him there, sir, but his own disorders

deserved much less advancement!

You? Did you?

I pray you, father,

being weak, seem so.

If till the expiration of your month

you will return and sojourn with my sister,

dismissing half your train, come then to me.

Return to her, and fifty men dismissed? No!

Rather I abjure all roofs,

and choose

to wage against the enmity of the air,

to be a comrade with the wolf and owl.

Necessity's sharp pinch.

- At your choice, sir.

- I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad!

I will not trouble you.

Farewell.

We'll no more meet, no more see one another.

And yet thou art my bloods,

my flesh, my daughter...

Or rather a disease that's in my flesh!

A boil in my corrupted blood!

Mend when thou canst, be better

at thy leisure. I can be patient.

I can stay with Regan,

I and my hundred knights.

Not altogether so.

I looked not for you yet,

nor am provided for your fit welcome.

Give ear, sir, to my sister.

For those that mingle reason

with your passion

must be content to think you old, and so...

- But she knows what she does.

- Is this well spoken?

I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers?

Is it not well? What should you need of more?

Yea, or so many, sith that both charge

and danger speak 'gainst so great a number?

How, in one house, should many people

under two commands hold amity?

- 'Tis hard, almost impossible.

- Why might not you, my lord,

receive attendance from those

that she calls servants, or from mine?

Why not, my lord? If then they chanced

to slack ye, we could control them.

If you will come to me,

for now I spy a danger,

I entreat you to bring but five-and-twenty.

To no more will I give place or notice.

- I gave you all!

- And in good time you gave it.

Made you my guardians, my depositaries,

but kept a reservation to be followed

with such a number!

What, must I come to you

with five-and-twenty?

- Regan, said you so?

- And speak't again, my lord.

No more with me.

Not to be worst

stands in some rank of praise.

I'll go with thee.

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,

and thou art twice her love.

Hear me, my lord.

What need you five-and-twenty,

ten, or five

to follow in a house where twice so many

have a command to tend you?

- What need one?

- O, reason not the need!

Our basest beggars

are in the poorest thing superfluous.

Allow not nature more than nature needs?

Man's life's as cheap as beast's.

Thou art a lady.

If only to go warm were gorgeous.

Why, nature needs not

what thou gorgeous wear'st,

which scarce will keep thee warm.

But for true need...

O heavens,

give me that patience,

patience I need!

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,

as full of grief as age,

wretched in both.

If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts

against their father,

fool me not so much to bear it tamely.

Touch me with noble anger,

and let not women's weapons, water drops,

stain my man's cheeks.

No, you unnatural hags,

I will have such revenges on you both

that all the world shall...

I will do such things!

What they are yet I know not,

but they shall be the terrors of the earth.

You think I'll weep?

No, I'll not weep.

I have full cause for weeping,

but this heart shall break

into a hundred thousand flaws

or ere I'll weep!

O fool, I shall go mad!

Let us withdraw.

'Twill be a storm.

This house is little. The old man and

his people cannot be well bestowed.

'Tis his own blame. Hath put himself

from rest and must needs taste his folly.

For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,

but not one follower.

So am I purposed.

- The King is in high rage.

- Where is he going?

He calls to horse. Will I know not whither.

'Tis best to give him way.

He leads himself.

My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.

Alack, the night comes on

and the bleak winds do sorely ruffle.

For many miles about there's scarce a bush.

O, sir, to wilful men

the injuries that they themselves procure

must be their schoolmasters.

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