SCENE IV. Before GLOUCESTER's castle. KENT in the stocks. King Lear  Shakespeare homepage  |  King Lear  | Act 2, Scene 4 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE IV. Before GLOUCESTER's castle. KENT in the stocks. 

 Enter KING LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman  KING LEAR  'Tis strange that they should so depart from home, 

 And not send back my messenger. 

 Gentleman  As I learn'd, 

 The night before there was no purpose in them 

 Of this remove. 

 KENT  Hail to thee, noble master! 

 KING LEAR  Ha! 

 Makest thou this shame thy pastime? 

 KENT  No, my lord. 

 Fool  Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied 

 by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by 

 the loins, and men by the legs: when a man's 

 over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden 

 nether-stocks. 

 KING LEAR  What's he that hath so much thy place mistook 

 To set thee here? 

 KENT  It is both he and she; 

 Your son and daughter. 

 KING LEAR  No. 

 KENT  Yes. 

 KING LEAR  No, I say. 

 KENT  I say, yea. 

 KING LEAR  No, no, they would not. 

 KENT  Yes, they have. 

 KING LEAR  By Jupiter, I swear, no. 

 KENT  By Juno, I swear, ay. 

 KING LEAR  They durst not do 't; 

 They could not, would not do 't; 'tis worse than murder, 

 To do upon respect such violent outrage: 

 Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way 

 Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage, 

 Coming from us. 

 KENT  My lord, when at their home 

 I did commend your highness' letters to them, 

 Ere I was risen from the place that show'd 

 My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, 

 Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth 

 From Goneril his mistress salutations; 

 Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, 

 Which presently they read: on whose contents, 

 They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse; 

 Commanded me to follow, and attend 

 The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks: 

 And meeting here the other messenger, 

 Whose welcome, I perceived, had poison'd mine,-- 

 Being the very fellow that of late 

 Display'd so saucily against your highness,-- 

 Having more man than wit about me, drew: 

 He raised the house with loud and coward cries. 

 Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 

 The shame which here it suffers. 

 Fool  Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way. 

 Fathers that wear rags 

 Do make their children blind; 

 But fathers that bear bags 

 Shall see their children kind. 

 Fortune, that arrant whore, 

 Ne'er turns the key to the poor. 

 But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours 

 for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year. 

 KING LEAR  O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! 

 Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow, 

 Thy element's below! Where is this daughter? 

 KENT  With the earl, sir, here within. 

 KING LEAR  Follow me not; 

 Stay here. 



 Exit  Gentleman  Made you no more offence but what you speak of? 

 KENT  None. 

 How chance the king comes with so small a train? 

 Fool  And thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that 

 question, thou hadst well deserved it. 

 KENT  Why, fool? 

 Fool  We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee 

 there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow 

 their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and 

 there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him 

 that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel 

 runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with 

 following it: but the great one that goes up the 

 hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man 

 gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I 

 would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it. 

 That sir which serves and seeks for gain, 

 And follows but for form, 

 Will pack when it begins to rain, 

 And leave thee in the storm, 

 But I will tarry; the fool will stay, 

 And let the wise man fly: 

 The knave turns fool that runs away; 

 The fool no knave, perdy. 

 KENT  Where learned you this, fool? 

 Fool  Not i' the stocks, fool. 



 Re-enter KING LEAR with GLOUCESTER  KING LEAR  Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary? 

 They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches; 

 The images of revolt and flying off. 

 Fetch me a better answer. 

 GLOUCESTER  My dear lord, 

 You know the fiery quality of the duke; 

 How unremoveable and fix'd he is 

 In his own course. 

 KING LEAR  Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! 

 Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, 

 I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. 

 GLOUCESTER  Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. 

 KING LEAR  Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man? 

 GLOUCESTER  Ay, my good lord. 

 KING LEAR  The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father 

 Would with his daughter speak, commands her service: 

 Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood! 

 Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that-- 

 No, but not yet: may be he is not well: 

 Infirmity doth still neglect all office 

 Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves 

 When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind 

 To suffer with the body: I'll forbear; 

 And am fall'n out with my more headier will, 

 To take the indisposed and sickly fit 

 For the sound man. Death on my state! wherefore 



 Looking on KENT  Should he sit here? This act persuades me 

 That this remotion of the duke and her 

 Is practise only. Give me my servant forth. 

 Go tell the duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them, 

 Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me, 

 Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum 

 Till it cry sleep to death. 

 GLOUCESTER  I would have all well betwixt you. 



 Exit  KING LEAR  O me, my heart, my rising heart! but, down! 

 Fool  Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels 

 when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapped 'em 

 o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried 'Down, 

 wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that, in pure 

 kindness to his horse, buttered his hay. 



 Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants  KING LEAR  Good morrow to you both. 

 CORNWALL  Hail to your grace! 



 KENT is set at liberty  REGAN  I am glad to see your highness. 

 KING LEAR  Regan, I think you are; I know what reason 

 I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, 

 I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, 

 Sepulchring an adultress. 



 To KENT  O, are you free? 

 Some other time for that. Beloved Regan, 

 Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied 

 Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here: 



 Points to his heart  I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe 

 With how depraved a quality--O Regan! 

 REGAN  I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope. 

 You less know how to value her desert 

 Than she to scant her duty. 

 KING LEAR  Say, how is that? 

 REGAN  I cannot think my sister in the least 

 Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance 

 She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, 

 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, 

 As clears her from all blame. 

 KING LEAR  My curses on her! 

 REGAN  O, sir, you are old. 

 Nature in you stands on the very verge 

 Of her confine: you should be ruled and led 

 By some discretion, that discerns your state 

 Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you, 

 That to our sister you do make return; 

 Say you have wrong'd her, sir. 

 KING LEAR  Ask her forgiveness? 

 Do you but mark how this becomes the house: 

 'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old; 



 Kneeling  Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg 

 That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.' 

 REGAN  Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks: 

 Return you to my sister. 

 KING LEAR  [Rising]  Never, Regan: 

 She hath abated me of half my train; 

 Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, 

 Most serpent-like, upon the very heart: 

 All the stored vengeances of heaven fall 

 On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, 

 You taking airs, with lameness! 

 CORNWALL  Fie, sir, fie! 

 KING LEAR  You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames 

 Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, 

 You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, 

 To fall and blast her pride! 

 REGAN  O the blest gods! so will you wish on me, 

 When the rash mood is on. 

 KING LEAR  No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse: 

 Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give 

 Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; but thine 

 Do comfort and not burn. 'Tis not in thee 

 To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, 

 To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 

 And in conclusion to oppose the bolt 

 Against my coming in: thou better know'st 

 The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 

 Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude; 

 Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 

 Wherein I thee endow'd. 

 REGAN  Good sir, to the purpose. 

 KING LEAR  Who put my man i' the stocks? 



 Tucket within  CORNWALL  What trumpet's that? 

 REGAN  I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter, 

 That she would soon be here. 



 Enter OSWALD  Is your lady come? 

 KING LEAR  This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride 

 Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. 

 Out, varlet, from my sight! 

 CORNWALL  What means your grace? 

 KING LEAR  Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope 

 Thou didst not know on't. Who comes here? O heavens, 



 Enter GONERIL  If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 

 Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, 

 Make it your cause; send down, and take my part! 



 To GONERIL  Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? 

 O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? 

 GONERIL  Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? 

 All's not offence that indiscretion finds 

 And dotage terms so. 

 KING LEAR  O sides, you are too tough; 

 Will you yet hold? How came my man i' the stocks? 

 CORNWALL  I set him there, sir: but his own disorders 

 Deserved much less advancement. 

 KING LEAR  You! did you? 

 REGAN  I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. 

 If, till the expiration of your month, 

 You will return and sojourn with my sister, 

 Dismissing half your train, come then to me: 

 I am now from home, and out of that provision 

 Which shall be needful for your entertainment. 

 KING LEAR  Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd? 

 No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 

 To wage against the enmity o' the air; 

 To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,-- 

 Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her? 

 Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took 

 Our youngest born, I could as well be brought 

 To knee his throne, and, squire-like; pension beg 

 To keep base life afoot. Return with her? 

 Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 

 To this detested groom. 



 Pointing at OSWALD  GONERIL  At your choice, sir. 

 KING LEAR  I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad: 

 I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: 

 We'll no more meet, no more see one another: 

 But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; 

 Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, 

 Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil, 

 A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, 

 In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee; 

 Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: 

 I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 

 Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove: 

 Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure: 

 I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, 

 I and my hundred knights. 

 REGAN  Not altogether so: 

 I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided 

 For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; 

 For those that mingle reason with your passion 

 Must be content to think you old, and so-- 

 But she knows what she does. 

 KING LEAR  Is this well spoken? 

 REGAN  I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers? 

 Is it not well? What should you need of more? 

 Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger 

 Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house, 

 Should many people, under two commands, 

 Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible. 

 GONERIL  Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance 

 From those that she calls servants or from mine? 

 REGAN  Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you, 

 We could control them. If you will come to me,-- 

 For now I spy a danger,--I entreat you 

 To bring but five and twenty: to no more 

 Will I give place or notice. 

 KING LEAR  I gave you all-- 

 REGAN  And in good time you gave it. 

 KING LEAR  Made you my guardians, my depositaries; 

 But kept a reservation to be follow'd 

 With such a number. What, must I come to you 

 With five and twenty, Regan? said you so? 

 REGAN  And speak't again, my lord; no more with me. 

 KING LEAR  Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, 

 When others are more wicked: not being the worst 

 Stands in some rank of praise. 



 To GONERIL  I'll go with thee: 

 Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, 

 And thou art twice her love. 

 GONERIL  Hear me, my lord; 

 What need you five and twenty, ten, or five, 

 To follow in a house where twice so many 

 Have a command to tend you? 

 REGAN  What need one? 

 KING LEAR  O, reason not the need: our basest beggars 

 Are in the poorest thing superfluous: 

 Allow not nature more than nature needs, 

 Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady; 

 If only to go warm were gorgeous, 

 Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, 

 Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,-- 

 You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! 

 You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 

 As full of grief as age; wretched in both! 

 If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts 

 Against their father, fool me not so much 

 To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, 

 And let not women's weapons, water-drops, 

 Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags, 

 I will have such revenges on you both, 

 That all the world shall--I will do such things,-- 

 What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be 

 The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep 

 No, I'll not weep: 

 I have full cause of weeping; but this heart 

 Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 

 Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad! 



 Exeunt KING LEAR, GLOUCESTER, KENT, and Fool 

 Storm and tempest  CORNWALL  Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm. 

 REGAN  This house is little: the old man and his people 

 Cannot be well bestow'd. 

 GONERIL  'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest, 

 And must needs taste his folly. 

 REGAN  For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, 

 But not one follower. 

 GONERIL  So am I purposed. 

 Where is my lord of Gloucester? 

 CORNWALL  Follow'd the old man forth: he is return'd. 



 Re-enter GLOUCESTER  GLOUCESTER  The king is in high rage. 

 CORNWALL  Whither is he going? 

 GLOUCESTER  He calls to horse; but will I know not whither. 

 CORNWALL  'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself. 

 GONERIL  My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. 

 GLOUCESTER  Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds 

 Do sorely ruffle; for many miles a bout 

 There's scarce a bush. 

 REGAN  O, sir, to wilful men, 

 The injuries that they themselves procure 

 Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors: 

 He is attended with a desperate train; 

 And what they may incense him to, being apt 

 To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. 

 CORNWALL  Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night: 

 My Regan counsels well; come out o' the storm. 



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