ARKCODEX
Act III, Scene 4
1The heath. Before a hovel.
2Enter King Lear, Kent, and Fool.
3KentHere is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night’s too rough
For nature to endure.
4Storm still.
5King LearLet me alone.
6KentGood my lord, enter here.
7King LearWilt break my heart?
8KentI had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.
9King LearThou 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’ldst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou’ldst 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.
10KentGood my lord, enter here.
11King LearPrithee, 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, whereso’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.
12EdgarWithin. Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!
13The Fool runs out from the hovel.
14FoolCome not in here, nuncle, here’s a spirit. Help me, help me!
15KentGive me thy hand. Who’s there?
16FoolA spirit, a spirit: he says his name’s poor Tom.
17KentWhat art thou that dost grumble there i’ the straw? Come forth.
18Enter Edgar disguised as a mad man.
19EdgarAway! the foul fiend follows me!
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.
Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
20King LearHast thou given all to thy two daughters?
And art thou come to this?
21EdgarWho gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and through ford and whirlipool e’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.
22Storm still.
23King LearWhat, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all?
24FoolNay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.
25King LearNow, all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o’er men’s faults light on thy daughters!
26KentHe hath no daughters, sir.
27King LearDeath, traitor! nothing could have subdued 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.
28EdgarPillicock sat on Pillicock-hill: Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!
29FoolThis cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
30EdgarTake heed o’ the 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.
31King LearWhat hast thou been?
32EdgarA 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-paramoured 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 brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders’ books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny. Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.
33Storm still.
34King LearWhy, 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. Tearing off his clothes.
35FoolPrithee, 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.
36Enter Gloucester, with a torch.
37EdgarThis 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 hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.
38S. Withold footed thrice the old;
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
Bid her alight,
And her troth plight,
And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!
39KentHow fares your grace?
40King LearWhat’s he?
41KentWho’s there? What is’t you seek?
42GloucesterWhat are you there? Your names?
43EdgarPoor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, 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 stock-punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear;
44But mice and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom’s food for seven long year.
45Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!
46GloucesterWhat, hath your grace no better company?
47EdgarThe prince of darkness is a gentleman: Modo he’s call’d, and Mahu.
48GloucesterOur flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord,
That it doth hate what gets it.
49EdgarPoor Tom’s a-cold.
50GloucesterGo 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 ventured to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
51King LearFirst let me talk with this philosopher.
What is the cause of thunder?
52KentGood my lord, take his offer; go into the house.
53King LearI’ll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
What is your study?
54EdgarHow to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
55King LearLet me ask you one word in private.
56KentImportune him once more to go, my lord;
His wits begin to unsettle.
57GloucesterCanst thou blame him? Storm still.
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 loved him, friend;
No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee,
The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night’s this!
I do beseech your grace—
58King LearO, cry your mercy, sir. Noble philosopher, your company.
59EdgarTom’s a-cold.
60GloucesterIn, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee warm.
61King LearCome let’s in all.
62KentThis way, my lord.
63King LearWith him; I will keep still with my philosopher.
64KentGood my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.
65GloucesterTake him you on.
66KentSirrah, come on; go along with us.
67King LearCome, good Athenian.
68GloucesterNo words, no words: hush.
69EdgarChild Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still—Fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
70Exeunt.