Gon. [to Edmund] Then shall you go no further.
It is the cowish terror of his spirit, That dares not undertake. He"ll not feel wrongs Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother.
Hasten his musters and conduct his pow"rs.
I must change arms at home and give the distaff Into my husband"s hands. This trusty servant Shall pa.s.s between us. Ere long you are like to hear (If you dare venture in your own behalf) A mistress"s command. Wear this. [Gives a favour.]
Spare speech.
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak, Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edm. Yours in the ranks of death! Exit.
Gon. My most dear Gloucester!
O, the difference of man and man!
To thee a woman"s services are due; My fool usurps my body.
Osw. Madam, here comes my lord. Exit.
Enter Albany.
Gon. I have been worth the whistle.
Alb. O Goneril, You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face! I fear your disposition.
That nature which contemns it origin Cannot be bordered certain in itself.
She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither And come to deadly use.
Gon. No more! The text is foolish.
Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform"d?
A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence even the head-lugg"d bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate, have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefited!
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, It will come, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep.
Gon. Milk-liver"d man!
That bear"st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know"st Fools do those villains pity who are punish"d Ere they have done their mischief. Where"s thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, With plumed helm thy state begins to threat, Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit"st still, and criest "Alack, why does he so?"
Alb. See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
Gon. O vain fool!
Alb. Thou changed and self-cover"d thing, for shame!
Bemonster not thy feature! Were"t my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Thy flesh and bones. Howe"er thou art a fiend, A woman"s shape doth shield thee.
Gon. Marry, your manhood mew!
Enter a Gentleman.
Alb. What news?
Gent. O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall "s dead, Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester.
Alb. Gloucester"s eyes?
Gent. A servant that he bred, thrill"d with remorse, Oppos"d against the act, bending his sword To his great master; who, thereat enrag"d, Flew on him, and amongst them fell"d him dead; But not without that harmful stroke which since Hath pluck"d him after.
Alb. This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes So speedily can venge! But O poor Gloucester!
Lose he his other eye?
Gent. Both, both, my lord.
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer.
"Tis from your sister.
Gon. [aside] One way I like this well; But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, May all the building in my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life. Another way The news is not so tart.- I"ll read, and answer.
Exit.
Alb. Where was his son when they did take his eyes?
Gent. Come with my lady hither.
Alb. He is not here.
Gent. No, my good lord; I met him back again.
Alb. Knows he the wickedness?
Gent. Ay, my good lord. "Twas he inform"d against him, And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course.
Alb. Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show"dst the King, And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend.
Tell me what more thou know"st.
Exeunt.
Scene III.
The French camp near Dover.
Enter Kent and a Gentleman.
Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason?
Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of, which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger that his personal return was most required and necessary.
Kent. Who hath he left behind him general?
Gent. The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.
Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of grief?
Gent. Ay, sir. She took them, read them in my presence, And now and then an ample tear trill"d down Her delicate cheek. It seem"d she was a queen Over her pa.s.sion, who, most rebel-like, Sought to be king o"er her.
Kent. O, then it mov"d her?
Gent. Not to a rage. Patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears Were like, a better way. Those happy smilets That play"d on her ripe lip seem"d not to know What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence As pearls from diamonds dropp"d. In brief, Sorrow would be a rarity most belov"d, If all could so become it.
Kent. Made she no verbal question?
Gent. Faith, once or twice she heav"d the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it press"d her heart; Cried "Sisters, sisters! Shame of ladies! Sisters!
Kent! father! sisters! What, i" th" storm? i" th" night?
Let pity not be believ"d!" There she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes, And clamour moisten"d. Then away she started To deal with grief alone.
Kent. It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions; Else one self mate and mate could not beget Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?
Gent. No.
Kent. Was this before the King return"d?
Gent. No, since.
Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear"s i" th" town; Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to see his daughter.
Gent. Why, good sir?
Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him; his own unkindness, That stripp"d her from his benediction, turn"d her To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights To his dog-hearted daughters- these things sting His mind so venomously that burning shame Detains him from Cordelia.
Gent. Alack, poor gentleman!
Kent. Of Albany"s and Cornwall"s powers you heard not?
Gent. "Tis so; they are afoot.
Kent. Well, sir, I"ll bring you to our master Lear And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up awhile.
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you go Along with me. Exeunt.
Scene IV.
The French camp.
Enter, with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers.