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running scene 8

Enter Lear, Kent and Fool

Kent disguised as Caius

KENT    Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter:

The tyranny of the open night’s too rough

For nature3 to endure.

Storm still

LEAR    Let me alone.

KENT    Good my lord, enter here.

LEAR    Will’t break my heart?

KENT    I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.

LEAR    Thou think’st ’tis much that this contentious storm

Invades us to the skin so: ’tis to thee,

But where the greater malady10 is fixed

The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear,

But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea

Thou’dst meet the bear i’th’mouth. When the mind’s free13,

The body’s delicate14: the tempest in my mind

Doth from my senses take all feeling else

Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!

Is it not as17 this mouth should tear this hand

For lifting food to’t? But I will punish home18.

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 frank22 heart gave all —

O, that way madness lies: let me shun that:

No more of that.

KENT    Good my lord, enter here.

LEAR    Prithee 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.

Exit [Fool]

Kneels

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are,

That bide32 the pelting of this pitiless storm,

How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides33,

Your lopped and windowed34 raggedness, defend you

From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en

Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp36,

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,

That thou mayst shake the superflux38 to them

And show the heavens more just.

Enter Edgar and Fool

Within the hovel

EDGAR    Fathom and half, fathom and half40! Poor Tom!

FOOL    Come not in here, nuncle, here’s a spirit41. Help me,

help me!

KENT    Give me thy hand. Who’s there?

FOOL    A spirit, a spirit: he says his name’s poor Tom.

KENT    What art thou that dost grumble45 there i’th’straw?

Come forth.

Edgar comes out, disguised as a mad beggar

EDGAR    Away! The foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp

hawthorn blow the winds. Hum! Go to thy bed and warm

thee.

LEAR    Did’st thou give all to thy daughters? And art thou

come to this?

EDGAR    Who gives anything to poor Tom? Whom the foul52

fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford

and whirlpool, o’er bog and quagmire, that hath laid knives54

under his pillow, and halters in his pew, set ratsbane55 by his

porridge, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay56 trotting-horse

over four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for57

a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom’s a-cold. O, do de, do de58, do

de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting and taking59! Do

poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there60

could I have him now — and there — and there again, and

there.

Storm still

LEAR    Has his daughters brought him to this pass63?

Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give ’em all?

FOOL    Nay, he reserved a blanket65, else we had been all

shamed.

LEAR    Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous67 air

Hang fated o’er men’s faults68 light on thy daughters!

KENT    He hath no daughters, sir.

LEAR    Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature70

To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.

Is it the fashion that discarded fathers

Should have thus little mercy on their flesh73?

Judicious punishment! ’Twas this flesh begot

Those pelican75 daughters.

EDGAR    Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hilclass="underline" alow, alow, loo, loo76!

FOOL This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

EDGAR Take heed o’th’foul fiend: obey78 thy parents, keep thy

word’s justice, swear not, commit not79 with man’s sworn

spouse, set not thy sweetheart on proud array80. Tom’s a-cold.

LEAR    What hast thou been?

EDGAR A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that

curled my hair, wore gloves83 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 in86 the contriving of lust, and

waked to do it: wine loved I dearly, dice87 dearly, and in woman

out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of ear88, bloody

of hand: hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog

in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor90

the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep

thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen92

from lenders’ books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the

hawthorn blows the cold wind, says suum, mun, nonny94,

Dolphin my boy, boy sessa! Let him trot by95.

Storm still

LEAR    Thou wert better in a grave than to answer96 with thy

uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more

than this? Consider him well. Thou ow’st the worm no silk,

the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume99. Ha?

Here’s three on’s are sophisticated100. Thou art the thing itself:

unaccommodated101 man is no more but such a poor bare,

forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings102! Come,

unbutton here.

Tears off his clothes

Enter Gloucester with a torch

FOOL    Prithee, nuncle, be contented: ’tis a naughty104 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 fire107.

EDGAR    This is the foul Flibbertigibbet: he begins at curfew108

and walks till the first cock: he gives the web and the pin109,

squints110 the eye and makes the hare-lip, mildews the white

wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.

Chants?

Swithold footed thrice the old112,

He met the nightmare and her nine-fold113;

Bid her alight,

And her troth plight115,

And, aroint116 thee, witch, aroint thee!

KENT    How fares your grace?

LEAR    What’s118 he?

KENT    Who’s there? What is’t you seek?

GLOUCESTER    What are you there? Your names?

EDGAR    Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad,