TPTT The Tragedy of King Lear: ACT IV
Introduction
ACT I
ACT II
ACT III
ACT IV
SCENE I. The heath.
SCENE II. Before ALBANY's palace.
SCENE III. The French camp near Dover.
SCENE IV. The same. A tent.
SCENE V. Gloucester's castle.
SCENE VI. Fields near Dover.
SCENE VII. A tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed asleep, soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending.
ACT V
About the Play
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SCENE II. Before ALBANY's palace.
Enter GONERIL and EDMUND
GONERIL
      Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband
      Not met us on the way.

Enter OSWALD

      Now, where's your master'?
OSWALD
      Madam, within; but never man so changed.
5     I told him of the army that was landed;
      He smiled at it: I told him you were coming:
      His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery,
      And of the loyal service of his son,
      When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot,
10    And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:
      What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
      What like, offensive.
GONERIL
      (To EDMUND) Then shall you go no further.
      It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
15    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 powers:
      I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
20    Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
      Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
      If you dare venture in your own behalf,
      A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;

Giving a favour

      Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
25    Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:
      Conceive, and fare thee well.
EDMUND
      Yours in the ranks of death.
GONERIL
      My most dear Gloucester!

Exit EDMUND

      O, the difference of man and man!
30    To thee a woman's services are due:
      My fool usurps my body.
OSWALD
      Madam, here comes my lord.
Exit
Enter ALBANY
GONERIL
      I have been worth the whistle.
ALBANY
      O Goneril!
35    You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
      Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:
      That nature, which contemns its origin,
      Cannot be border'd certain in itself;
      She that herself will sliver and disbranch
40    From her material sap, perforce must wither
      And come to deadly use.
GONERIL
      No more; the text is foolish.
ALBANY
      Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
      Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
45    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?
50    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,
55    Like monsters of the deep.
GONERIL
      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
60    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 slayer begins threats;
      Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest
65    'Alack, why does he so?'
ALBANY
      See thyself, devil!
      Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
      So horrid as in woman.
GONERIL
      O vain fool!
ALBANY
70    Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,
      Be-monster 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,
75    A woman's shape doth shield thee.
GONERIL
      Marry, your manhood now--
Enter a Messenger
ALBANY
      What news?
Messenger
      O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
      Slain by his servant, going to put out
80    The other eye of Gloucester.
ALBANY
      Gloucester's eye!
Messenger
      A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
      Opposed against the act, bending his sword
      To his great master; who, thereat enraged,
85    Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;
      But not without that harmful stroke, which since
      Hath pluck'd him after.
ALBANY
      This shows you are above,
      You justicers, that these our nether crimes
90    So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!
      Lost he his other eye?
Messenger
      Both, both, my lord.
      This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
      'Tis from your sister.
GONERIL
95    (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
ALBANY
100   Where was his son when they did take his eyes?
Messenger
      Come with my lady hither.
ALBANY
      He is not here.
Messenger
      No, my good lord; I met him back again.
ALBANY
      Knows he the wickedness?
Messenger
105   Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
      And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
      Might have the freer course.
ALBANY
      Gloucester, I live
      To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
110   And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend:
      Tell me what more thou know'st.
Exeunt
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