King Lear by William Shakespeare
Act 3 - Scene 4
The heath. Before a hovel. Storm still.
Earl of Kent : Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter.
[p]The tyranny of the
open night 's too rough
[p]For nature to endure.
Lear : Let me alone.
Earl of Kent : Good my lord, enter here.
Lear : Wilt break my heart?
Earl of Kent : I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.
Lear : Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
[p]Invades us to
the skin. So 'tis to thee;
[p]But where the greater malady is
fix'd,
[p]The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear;
[p]But if
thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
[p]Thou'dst meet the bear i' th'
mouth. When the mind's free,
[p]The body's delicate. The tempest in my
mind
[p]Doth from my senses take all feeling else
[p]Save what beats
there. Filial ingratitude!
[p]Is it not as this mouth should tear this
hand
[p]For lifting food to't? But I will punish home!
[p]No, I will
weep no more. In such a night
[p]To shut me out! Pour on; I will
endure.
[p]In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
[p]Your old kind
father, whose frank heart gave all!
[p]O, that way madness lies; let
me shun that!
[p]No more of that.
Earl of Kent : Good my lord, enter here.
Lear : Prithee go in thyself; seek thine own ease.
[p]This tempest will not
give me leave to ponder
[p]On things would hurt me more. But I'll go
in.
[p][To the Fool] In, boy; go first.- You houseless
poverty-
[p]Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. [Exit
Fool]
[p]Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
[p]That bide the
pelting of this pitiless storm,
[p]How shall your houseless heads and
unfed sides,
[p]Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend
you
[p]From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
[p]Too little care
of this! Take physic, pomp;
[p]Expose thyself to feel what wretches
feel,
[p]That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
[p]And show the
heavens more just.
Edgar : [within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!
Fool : Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, help me!
Earl of Kent : Give me thy hand. Who's there?
Fool : A spirit, a spirit! He says his name's poor Tom.
Earl of Kent : What art thou that dost grumble there i' th' straw?
[p]Come forth.
Edgar : Away! the foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp hawthorn
[p]blows
the cold wind. Humh! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
Lear : Hast thou given all to thy two daughters, and art thou come
[p]to
this?
Edgar : Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath
led
[p]through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool,
o'er
[p]bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow
and
[p]halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge, made him
proud
[p]of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse over
four-inch'd
[p]bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. Bless
thy five
[p]wits! Tom 's acold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee
from
[p]whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some
charity,
[p]whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now- and
there-
[p]and there again- and there!
Lear : What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
[p]Couldst thou
save nothing? Didst thou give 'em all?
Fool : Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all sham'd.
Lear : Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air
[p]Hang fated o'er men's
faults light on thy daughters!
Earl of Kent : He hath no daughters, sir.
Lear : Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd nature
[p]To such a lowness
but his unkind daughters.
[p]Is it the fashion that discarded
fathers
[p]Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
[p]Judicious
punishment! 'Twas this flesh begot
[p]Those pelican daughters.
Edgar : Pillicock sat on Pillicock's Hill. 'Allow, 'allow, loo, loo!
Fool : This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
Edgar : Take heed o' th' foul fiend; obey thy parents: keep thy
word
[p]justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set
not
[p]thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom 's acold.
Lear : What hast thou been?
Edgar : A servingman, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair,
[p]wore
gloves in my cap; serv'd the lust of my mistress' heart and
[p]did the
act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake
[p]words, and
broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that
[p]slept in the
contriving of lust, and wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd
[p]I deeply, dice
dearly; and in woman out-paramour'd the Turk.
[p]False of heart, light
of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox
[p]in stealth, wolf in
greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
[p]Let not the creaking of
shoes nor the rustling of silks betray
[p]thy poor heart to woman.
Keep thy foot out of brothel, thy hand
[p]out of placket, thy pen from
lender's book, and defy the foul
[p]fiend. Still through the hawthorn
blows the cold wind; says
[p]suum, mun, hey, no, nonny. Dolphin my
boy, my boy, sessa! let
[p]him trot by.
Lear : Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with
thy
[p]uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more
than
[p]this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the
beast
[p]no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! Here's
three
[p]on's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing
itself;
[p]unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare,
forked
[p]animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come,
unbutton
[p]here.
Fool : Prithee, nuncle, be contented! 'Tis a naughty night to swim
[p]in. Now
a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's
[p]heart- a
small spark, all the rest on's body cold. Look, here
[p]comes a
walking fire.
Edgar : This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew,
[p]and
walks till the first cock. He gives the web and the pin,
[p]squints
the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat,
[p]and hurts
the poor creature of earth.
[p] Saint Withold footed thrice the
'old;
[p] He met the nightmare, and her nine fold;
[p]
Bid her alight
[p] And her troth plight,
[p] And aroint
thee, witch, aroint thee!
Earl of Kent : How fares your Grace?
Lear : What's he?
Earl of Kent : Who's there? What is't you seek?
Earl of Glouchester : What are you there? Your names?
Edgar : Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole,
[p]the
wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when
[p]the
foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the
[p]old rat
and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the
[p]standing pool;
who is whipp'd from tithing to tithing, and
[p]stock-punish'd and
imprison'd; who hath had three suits to his
[p]back, six shirts to his
body, horse to ride, and weapons to
[p]wear;
[p] But mice and
rats, and such small deer,
[p] Have been Tom's food for seven long
year.
[p]Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin! peace, thou fiend!
Earl of Glouchester : What, hath your Grace no better company?
Edgar : The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
[p]Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.
Earl of Glouchester : Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord,
[p]That it doth hate
what gets it.
Edgar : Poor Tom 's acold.
Earl of Glouchester : Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer
[p]T' obey in all your daughters'
hard commands.
[p]Though their injunction be to bar my doors
[p]And
let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
[p]Yet have I ventur'd to
come seek you out
[p]And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
Lear : First let me talk with this philosopher.
[p]What is the cause of
thunder?
Earl of Kent : Good my lord, take his offer; go into th' house.
Lear : I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
[p]What is your
study?
Edgar : How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin.
Lear : Let me ask you one word in private.
Earl of Kent : Importune him once more to go, my lord.
[p]His wits begin t'
unsettle.
Earl of Glouchester : Canst thou blame him? [Storm still.]
[p]His daughters seek his death.
Ah, that good Kent!
[p]He said it would be thus- poor banish'd
man!
[p]Thou say'st the King grows mad: I'll tell thee, friend,
[p]I
am almost mad myself. I had a son,
[p]Now outlaw'd from my blood. He
sought my life
[p]But lately, very late. I lov'd him, friend-
[p]No
father his son dearer. True to tell thee,
[p]The grief hath craz'd my
wits. What a night 's this!
[p]I do beseech your Grace-
Lear : O, cry you mercy, sir.
[p]Noble philosopher, your company.
Edgar : Tom's acold.
Earl of Glouchester : In, fellow, there, into th' hovel; keep thee warm.
Lear : Come, let's in all.
Earl of Kent : This way, my lord.
Lear : With him!
[p]I will keep still with my philosopher.
Earl of Kent : Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.
Earl of Glouchester : Take him you on.
Earl of Kent : Sirrah, come on; go along with us.
Lear : Come, good Athenian.
Earl of Glouchester : No words, no words! hush.
Edgar : Child Rowland to the dark tower came;
[p]His word was still
[p]
Fie, foh, and fum!
[p] I smell the blood of a British man.
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Next: Act 3 - Scene 5
