King Lear Page #9

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to such a lowness but his unkind daughters.

Is it the fashion for discarded fathers,

to have thus little mercy on their flesh?

Judicious punishment! 'Twas this flesh begot

those pelican daughters.

Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill.

Alow, alow, loo, loo!

This cold night will turn us all

to fools and madmen.

Take heed o' the foul fiend!

Obey thy parents! Swear not!

Keep thy word's justice!

Commit not with man's sworn spouse.

Tom's a-cold.

What hast thou been?

A serving-man,

proud in heart and mind,

served the lust of my mistress' heart,

and did the act of darkness with her.

Keep thy foot out of brothels,

thy hand out of plackets,

thy pen from lenders' books,

and defy the foul fiend.

Still through the hawthorn

blows the cold wind...

Thou wert better in a grave

than to have answered

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.

There's three of us 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!

Unbutton here.

Prithee, nuncle, be contented!

'Tis a naughty night to swim in!

Look! There comes a fire walking.

Who's there?

This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet.

Aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

- What is't you seek?

- What are you there? Your names?

Poor Tom, who eats the swimming frog,

the toad, the tadpole,

the wall-newt and the water.

What, hath your grace no better company?

The prince of darkness is a gentleman.

Modo he's called, and Mahu.

Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile

that it doth hate what gets it.

Poor Tom's a-cold.

Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer

to obey in all your daughters' hard commands.

Though their injunction be to bar my doors,

yet have I ventured to come and seek you out,

and bring you where

both fire and food is ready.

First let me speak a word

with this philosopher.

What is the cause... of thunder?

Good my lord, take his offer,

go into the house.

I'll speak a word with this same

learned Theban. What is your study?

How to prevent the fiend,

and to kill vermin.

Let me ask you one word...

in private.

His wits begin to unsettle.

Canst thou blame him?

His daughters seek his death.

I tell you, friend,

I am almost mad myself.

I had a son, now outlawed from my blood.

He sought my life, but lately, very late.

I loved him, friend,

no father his son dearer.

True to tell thee,

the grief hath crazed my wits.

What a night's this!

I do beseech your grace!

I cry you mercy, sir.

Good philosopher, your company.

Tom's a-cold.

In, fellow, there, into the hovel.

Keep thee warm.

- Come, let's in all.

- This way, my lord.

With him!

I will keep still with my philosopher.

- Good my lord, soothe him.

- Take him you on.

Sirrah, come on. Go along with us.

Come, good Athenian.

No words, no words! Hush!

Child Rowland to the dark tower came.

His word was still "Fie, foh, fum,

I smell the blood of a British man."

I will have my revenge

ere I depart his house.

This is the paper he spoke of,

which approves him

an intelligent party to the advantages

of France.

O heavens! That this treason were not,

or not I the detector!

How, my lord, I may be censured,

that nature thus gives way to loyalty,

something fears me to think of.

If the matter of this paper be certain,

you have mighty business in hand.

True or false, it hath made thee

Earl of Gloucester.

Seek out where thy father is,

that he may be ready for our apprehension.

I will persever in my course of loyalty,

though the conflict be sore

between that and my blood.

I will lay trust upon thee.

Thou shalt find a dearer father in my love.

Here is better than the open air.

Take it thankfully.

Frateretto calls me, and tells me

Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness.

I will piece out the comfort

with what addition I can.

- I will not be long from you.

- The gods reward your kindness!

Prithee, nuncle...

prithee.

Tell me whether a madman

be a yeoman or a gentleman?

A king, a king!

No! He's a yeoman

with a gentleman to his son.

To have a thousand with red burning spits

come hissing in upon 'em!

It shall be done.

I will arraign them straight.

Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer.

Thou, sapient sir, sit there.

- Now, you she-foxes!

- Look, where she stands and glares!

Want'st thou eyes at trial, madam?

# Come o'er the burn

Bessy come, to me

# Come o'er the burn

Bessy, to me #

# And she must not speak

# Why she dare not come over burn to thee #

Hoppendance cries in Tom's belly

for two white herring.

Croak not, black angel!

I have no food for thee.

- How do you, sir?

- Stand you not so amazed.

Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?

I'll see their trial first.

You are o' the commission.

Sit you too.

Let us deal justly.

Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd?

- Pur, the cat is grey.

- Arraign her first. 'Tis Goneril!

I here take my oath before

this honourable assembly.

She kicked the poor King her father.

Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?

She cannot deny it.

Cry you mercy. I took you for a joint-stool.

Here's another, whose warped looks

proclaim what stone her heart is made of.

Stop her! There!

Sword, fire! Corruption in the place!

Thou false justicer,

why didst thou let her escape?

Bless thy five wits!

O pity! Sir, where is the patience now

that thou so oft have boasted to retain?

The little dogs and all?

Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart?

- See, they bark at me.

- Tom will throw his head at them.

Avaunt, you curs!

Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

Then anatomize Regan,

see what breeds about her heart.

Is there any cause in nature

that makes these... hard... hearts?

You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred.

I do not like the fashion

of your garments.

You will say they are Persian

attire, but let them be changed.

Now, good my lord,

lie down and rest awhile.

Make no noise.

Make no noise.

Will you draw the curtains?

So...

So.

I'll go to supper in the morning.

And I'll go to bed at noon.

- Where is the King my master?

- Here, sir.

Good friend, I prithee,

take him in your arms.

Trouble him not. His wits are gone.

I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him.

There is a litter ready.

Lay him in't and drive towards Dover, friend,

where thou shalt meet both welcome

and protection. Take up thy master.

Oppressed nature sleeps.

This rest might yet have balmed

thy broken sinews,

which, if convenience will not allow,

stand in hard cure.

Come, come! Help to bear thy master.

Thou must not stay behind.

Who alone suffers,

suffers most i' the mind.

How light and portable my pain seems now,

when that which makes me bend

makes the King bow.

What more will hap tonight,

safe 'scape the King?

Lurk, lurk.

Come! Come away.

Agh!

This is a brave night to cool a courtesan.

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