I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall .

It did always seem so to us ; but now , in the division of the kingdom , it appears not which of the dukes he values most ; for equalities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety .

Is not this your son , my lord ?

His breeding , sir , hath been at my charge : I have so often blushed to acknowledge him , that now I am brazed to it .

I cannot conceive you .

Sir , this young fellow's mother could ; whereupon she grew round-wombed , and had , indeed , sir , a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed . Do you smell a fault ?

I cannot wish the fault undone , the issue of it being so proper .

But I have a son , sir , by order of law , some year elder than this , who yet is no dearer in my account : though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for , yet was his mother fair ; there was good sport at his making , and the whoreson must be acknowledged . Do you know this noble gentleman , Edmund ?

No , my lord .

My Lord of Kent : remember him hereafter as my honourable friend .

My services to your lordship .

I must love you , and sue to know you better .

Sir , I shall study deserving .

He hath been out nine years , and away he shall again . The king is coming .


Attend the Lords of France and Burgundy , Gloucester .

I shall , my liege .


Meantime we shall express our darker purpose .
Give me the map there . Know that we have divided 
In three our kingdom ; and 'tis our fast intent 
To shake all cares and business from our age ,
Conferring them on younger strengths , while we 
Unburden'd crawl toward death . Our son of Cornwall ,
And you , our no less loving son of Albany ,
We have this hour a constant will to publish 
Our daughters' several dowers , that future strife 
May be prevented now . The princes , France and Burgundy ,
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love ,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn ,
And here are to be answer'd . Tell me , my daughters ,
Since now we will divest us both of rule ,
Interest of territory , cares of state ,
Which of you shall we say doth love us most ?
That we our largest bounty may extend 
Where nature doth with merit challenge . Goneril ,
Our eldest-born , speak first .

Sir , I love you more than words can wield the matter ;
Dearer than eye-sight , space , and liberty ;
Beyond what can be valu'd , rich or rare ;
No less than life , with grace , health , beauty , honour ;
As much as child e'er lov'd , or father found ;
A love that makes breath poor and speech unable ;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you .

What shall Cordelia do ? Love , and be silent .

Of all these bounds , even from this line to this ,
With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd ,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads ,
We make thee lady : to thine and Albany's issue 
Be this perpetual . What says our second daughter ,
Our dearest Regan , wife to Cornwall ? Speak .

I am made of that self metal as my sister ,
And prize me at her worth . In my true heart 
I find she names my very deed of love ;
Only she comes too short : that I profess 
Myself an enemy to all other joys 
Which the most precious square of sense possesses 
And find I am alone felicitate 
In your dear highness' love .

Then , poor Cordelia !
And yet not so ; since , I am sure , my love's 
More richer than my tongue .

To thee and thine , hereditary ever ,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom ,
No less in space , validity , and pleasure ,
Than that conferr'd on Goneril . Now , our joy ,
Although our last , not least ; to whose young love 
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy 
Strive to be interess'd ; what can you say to draw 
A third more opulent than your sisters ? Speak .

Nothing , my lord .

Nothing ?

Nothing .

Nothing will come of nothing : speak again .

Unhappy that I am , I cannot heave 
My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty 
According to my bond ; nor more nor less .

How , how , Cordelia ! mend your speech a little ,
Lest you may mar your fortunes .

Good my lord ,
You have begot me , bred me , lov'd me : I 
Return those duties back as are right fit ,
Obey you , love you , and most honour you .
Why have my sisters husbands , if they say 
They love you all ? Haply , when I shall wed ,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry 
Half my love with him , half my care and duty :
Sure I shall never marry like my sisters ,
To love my father all .

But goes thy heart with this ?

Ay , good my lord .

So young , and so untender ?

So young , my lord , and true .

Let it be so ; thy truth then be thy dower :
For , by the sacred radiance of the sun ,
The mysteries of Hecate and the night ,
By all the operation of the orbs 
From whom we do exist and cease to be ,
Here I disclaim all my paternal care ,
Propinquity and property of blood ,
And as a stranger to my heart and me 
Hold thee from this for ever . The barbarous Scythian ,
Or he that makes his generation messes 
To gorge his appetite , shall to my bosom 
Be as well neighbour'd , pitied , and reliev'd ,
As thou my sometime daughter .

Good my liege ,

Peace , Kent !
Come not between the dragon and his wrath .
I lov'd her most , and thought to set my rest 
On her kind nursery . Hence , and avoid my sight !
So be my grave my peace , as here I give 
Her father's heart from her ! Call France . Who stirs ?
Call Burgundy . Cornwall and Albany ,
With my two daughters' dowers digest the third ;
Let pride , which she calls plainness , marry her .
I do invest you jointly with my power ,
Pre-eminence , and all the large effects 
That troop with majesty . Ourself by monthly course ,
With reservation of a hundred knights ,
By you to be sustain'd , shall our abode 
Make with you by due turn . Only we shall retain 
The name and all th' addition to a king ;
The sway , revenue , execution of the rest ,
Beloved sons , be yours : which to confirm ,
This coronet part between you .

Royal Lear ,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king ,
Lov'd as my father , as my master follow'd ,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers ,

The bow is bent and drawn ; make from the shaft .

Let it fall rather , though the fork invade 
The region of my heart : be Kent unmannerly 
When Lear is mad . What wouldst thou do , old man ?
Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak 
When power to flattery bows ? To plainness honour's bound 
When majesty falls to folly . Reserve thy state ;
And , in thy best consideration , check 
This hideous rashness : answer my life my judgment ,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ;
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound 
Reverbs no hollowness .

Kent , on thy life , no more .

My life I never held but as a pawn 
To wage against thine enemies ; nor fear to lose it ,
Thy safety being the motive .

Out of my sight !

See better , Lear ; and let me still remain 
The true blank of thine eye .

Now , by Apollo ,

Now , by Apollo , king ,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain .

O vassal ! miscreant !


Dear sir , forbear .

Dear sir , forbear .

Do ;
Kill thy physician , and the fee bestow 
Upon the foul disease . Revoke thy gift ;
Or , whilst I can vent clamour from my throat ,
I'll tell thee thou dost evil .

Hear me , recreant !
On thine allegiance , hear me !
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow ,
Which we durst never yet ,and , with strain'd pride 
To come betwixt our sentence and our power ,
Which nor our nature nor our place can hear ,
Our potency made good , take thy reward .
Five days we do allot thee for provision 
To shield thee from diseases of the world ;
And , on the sixth , to turn thy hated back 
Upon our kingdom : if , on the tenth day following 
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions ,
The moment is thy death . Away ! By Jupiter ,
This shall not be revok'd .

Fare thee well , king ; sith thus thou wilt appear ,
Freedom lives hence , and banishment is here .


The gods to their dear shelter take thee , maid ,
That justly think'st , and hast most rightly said !


And your large speeches may your deeds approve ,
That good effects may spring from words of love .
Thus Kent , O princes ! bids you all adieu ;
He'll shape his old course in a country new .

Here's France and Burgundy , my noble lord .

My Lord of Burgundy ,
We first address toward you , who with this king 
Hath rivall'd for our daughter . What , in the least ,
Will you require in present dower with her ,
Or cease your quest of love ?

Most royal majesty ,
I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd ,
Nor will you tender less .

Right noble Burgundy ,
When she was dear to us we did hold her so ,
But now her price is fall'n . Sir , there she stands :
If aught within that little-seeming substance ,
Or all of it , with our displeasure piec'd ,
And nothing more , may fitly like your Grace ,
She's there , and she is yours .

I know no answer .

Will you , with those infirmities she owes ,
Unfriended , new-adopted to our hate ,
Dower'd with our curse , and stranger'd with our oath ,
Take her , or leave her ?

Pardon me , royal sir ;
Election makes not up on such conditions .

Then leave her , sir ; for , by the power that made me ,
I tell you all her wealth .

For you , great king ,
I would not from your love make such a stray 
To match you where I hate ; therefore , beseech you 
To avert your liking a more worthier way 
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd 
Almost to acknowledge hers .

This is most strange ,
That she , who even but now was your best object ,
The argument of your praise , balm of your age ,
The best , the dearest , should in this trice of time 
Commit a thing so monstrous , to dismantle 
So many folds of favour . Sure , her offence 
Must be of such unnatural degree 
That monsters it , or your fore-vouch'd affection 
Fall into taint ; which to believe of her ,
Must be a faith that reason without miracle 
Could never plant in me .

I yet beseech your majesty 
If for I want that glib and oily art 
To speak and purpose not ; since what I well intend ,
I'll do 't before I speak that you make known 
It is no vicious blot nor other foulness ,
No unchaste action , or dishonour'd step ,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour ,
But even for want of that for which I am richer ,
A still-soliciting eye , and such a tongue 
That I am glad I have not , though not to have it 
Hath lost me in your liking .

Better thou 
Hadst not been born than not to have pleas'd me better .

Is it but this ? a tardiness in nature 
Which often leaves the history unspoke 
That it intends to do ? My Lord of Burgundy ,
What say you to the lady ? Love is not love 
When it is mingled with regards that stand 
Aloof from the entire point . Will you have her ?
She is herself a dowry .

Royal Lear ,
Give but that portion which yourself propos'd ,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand ,
Duchess of Burgundy .

Nothing : I have sworn ; I am firm .

I am sorry , then , you have so lost a father 
That you must lose a husband .

Peace be with Burgundy !
Since that respects of fortune are his love ,
I shall not be his wife .

Fairest Cordelia , that art most rich , being poor ;
Most choice , forsaken ; and most lov'd , despis'd !
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon :
Be it lawful I take up what's cast away .
Gods , gods ! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect 
My love should kindle to inflam'd respect .
Thy dowerless daughter , king , thrown to my chance ,
Is queen of us , of ours , and our fair France :
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy 
Shall buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me .
Bid them farewell , Cordelia , though unkind :
Thou losest here , a better where to find .

Thou hast her , France ; let her be thine , for we 
Have no such daughter , nor shall ever see 
That face of hers again , therefore be gone 
Without our grace , our love , our benison .
Come , noble Burgundy .


Bid farewell to your sisters .

The jewels of our father , with wash'd eyes 
Cordelia leaves you : I know you what you are ;
And like a sister am most loath to call 
Your faults as they are nam'd . Use well our father :
To your professed bosoms I commit him :
But yet , alas ! stood I within his grace ,
I would prefer him to a better place .
So farewell to you both .

Prescribe not us our duties .

Let your study 
Be to content your lord , who hath receiv'd you 
At fortune's alms ; you have obedience scanted ,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted .

Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides ;
Who covers faults , at last shame them derides .
Well may you prosper !

Come , my fair Cordelia .


Sister , it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both . I think our father will hence to-night .

That's most certain , and with you ; next month with us .

You see how full of changes his age is ; the observation we have made of it hath not been little : he always loved our sister most ; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly .

'Tis the infirmity of his age ; yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself .

The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash ; then , must we look to receive from his age , not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition , but , therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them .

Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent's banishment .

There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him . Pray you , let us hit together : if our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears , this last surrender of his will but offend us .

We shall further think on't .

We must do something , and i' the heat .


Thou , Nature , art my goddess ; to thy law 
My services are bound . Wherefore should I 
Stand in the plague of custom , and permit 
The curiosity of nations to deprive me ,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 
Lag of a brother ? Why bastard ? wherefore base ?
When my dimensions are as well compact ,
My mind as generous , and my shape as true ,
As honest madam's issue ? Why brand they us 
With base ? with baseness ? bastardy ? base , base ?
Who in the lusty stealth of nature take 
More composition and fierce quality 
Than doth , within a dull , stale , tired bed ,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops ,
Got 'tween asleep and wake ? Well then ,
Legitimate Edgar , I must have your land :
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund 
As to the legitimate . Fine word , 'legitimate !' 
Well , my legitimate , if this letter speed ,
And my invention thrive , Edmund the base 
Shall top the legitimate :I grow , I prosper ;
Now , gods , stand up for bastards !


Kent banished thus ! And France in choler parted !
And the king gone to-night ! subscrib'd his power !
Confin'd to exhibition ! All this done 
Upon the gad ! Edmund , how now ! what news ?

So please your lordship , none .


Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter ?

I know no news , my lord .

What paper were you reading ?

Nothing , my lord .

No ? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket ? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself . Let's see ; come ; if it be nothing , I shall not need spectacles .

I beseech you , sir , pardon me ; it is a letter from my brother that I have not all o'er-read , and for so much as I have perused , I find it not fit for your o'er-looking .

Give me the letter , sir .

I shall offend , either to detain or give it . The contents , as in part I understand them , are to blame .

Let's see , let's see .

I hope , for my brother's justification , he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue .

This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times ; keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them . I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny , who sways , not as it hath power , but as it is suffered . Come to me , that of this I may speak more . If our father would sleep till I waked him , you should enjoy half his revenue for ever , and live the beloved of your brother ,

It was not brought me , my lord ; there's the cunning of it ; I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet .

You know the character to be your brother's ?

If the matter were good , my lord , I durst swear it were his ; but , in respect of that , I would fain think it were not .

It is his .

It is his hand , my lord ; but I hope his heart is not in the contents .

Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business ?

Never , my lord : but I have often heard him maintain it to be fit that , sons at perfect age , and fathers declined , the father should be as ward to the son , and the son manage his revenue .

O villain , villain ! His very opinion in the letter ! Abhorred villain ! Unnatural , detested , brutish villain ! worse than brutish ! Go , sirrah , seek him ; I'll apprehend him . Abominable villain ! Where is he ?

I do not well know , my lord . If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent , you shall run a certain course ; where , if you violently proceed against him , mistaking his purpose , it would make a great gap in your own honour , and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience . I dare pawn down my life for him , that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour , and to no other pretence of danger .

Think you so ?

If your honour judge it meet , I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this , and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction ; and that without any further delay than this very evening .

He cannot be such a monster 

Nor is not , sure .

to his father , that so tenderly and entirely loves him . Heaven and earth ! Edmund , seek him out ; wind me into him , I pray you : frame the business after your own wisdom . I would unstate myself to be in a due resolution .

I will seek him , sir , presently ; convey the business as I shall find means , and acquaint you withal .

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us : though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus , yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects . Love cools , friendship falls off , brothers divide : in cities , mutinies ; in countries , discord ; in palaces , treason ; and the bond cracked between son and father . This villain of mine comes under the prediction ; there's son against father : the king falls from bias of nature ; there's father against child . We have seen the best of our time : machinations , hollowness , treachery , and all ruinous disorders , follow us disquietly to our graves . Find out this villain , Edmund ; it shall lose thee nothing : do it carefully . And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished ! his offence , honesty ! 'Tis strange !


This is the excellent foppery of the world , that , when we are sick in fortune ,often the surfeit of our own behaviour ,we make guilty of our disasters the sun , the moon , and the stars ; as if we were villains by necessity , fools by heavenly compulsion , knaves , thieves , and treachers by spherical predominance , drunkards , liars , and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence ; and all that we are evil in , by a divine thrusting on : an admirable evasion of whoremaster man , to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star ! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail , and my nativity was under ursa major ; so that it follows I am rough and lecherous . 'Sfoot ! I should have been that I am had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing . Edgar 

and pat he comes , like the catastrophe of the old comedy : my cue is villanous melancholy , with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam . O , these eclipses do portend these divisions ! Fa , sol , la , mi .

How now , brother Edmund ! What serious contemplation are you in ?

I am thinking , brother , of a prediction I read this other day , what should follow these eclipses .

Do you busy yourself with that ?

I promise you the effects he writes of succeed unhappily ; as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent ; death , dearth , dissolutions of ancient amities ; divisions in state ; menaces and maledictions against king and nobles ; needless diffidences , banishment of friends , dissipation of cohorts , nuptial breaches , and I know not what .

How long have you been a sectary astronomical ?

Come , come ; when saw you my father last ?

The night gone by .

Spake you with him ?

Ay , two hours together .

Parted you in good terms ? Found you no displeasure in him by word or countenance ?

None at all .

Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him ; and at my entreaty forbear his presence till some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure , which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay .

Some villain hath done me wrong .

That's my fear . I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower , and , as I say , retire with me to my lodging , from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak . Pray you , go ; there's my key . If you do stir abroad , go armed .

Armed , brother !

Brother , I advise you to the best ; go armed ; I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you ; I have told you what I have seen and heard ; but faintly , nothing like the image and horror of it ; pray you , away .

Shall I hear from you anon ?

I do serve you in this business .

A credulous father , and a brother noble ,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms 
That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty 
My practices ride easy ! I see the business .
Let me , if not by birth , have lands by wit :
All with me's meet that I can fashion fit .


Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool ?

Ay , madam .

By day and night he wrongs me ; every hour 
He flashes into one gross crime or other ,
That sets us all at odds : I'll not endure it :
His knights grow riotous , and himself upbraids us 
On every trifle . When he returns from hunting 
I will not speak with him ; say I am sick :
If you come slack of former services ,
You shall do well ; the fault of it I'll answer .

He's coming , madam ; I hear him .


Put on what weary negligence you please ,
You and your fellows ; I'd have it come to question :
If he distaste it , let him to my sister ,
Whose mind and mine , I know , in that are one ,
Not to be over-rul'd . Idle old man ,
That still would manage those authorities 
That he hath given away ! Now , by my life ,
Old fools are babes again , and must be us'd 
With cheeks as flatteries , when they are seen abus'd .
Remember what I have said .

Well , madam .

And let his knights have colder looks among you ;
What grown of it , no matter ; advise your fellows so :
I would breed from hence occasions , and I shall ,
That I may speak : I'll write straight to my sister 
To hold my very source . Prepare for dinner .


If but as well I other accents borrow ,
That can my speech diffuse , my good intent 
May carry through itself to that full issue 
For which I raz'd my likeness . Now , banish'd Kent ,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd ,
So may it come , thy master , whom thou lov'st ,
Shall find thee full of labours .


Let me not stay a jot for dinner : go , get it ready .

How now ! what art thou ?

A man , sir .

What dost thou profess ? What wouldst thou with us ?

I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to serve him truly that will put me in trust ; to love him that is honest ; to converse with him that is wise , and says little ; to fear judgment ; to fight when I cannot choose ; and to eat no fish .

What art thou ?

A very honest-hearted fellow , and as poor as the king .

If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a king , thou art poor enough . What wouldst thou ?

Service .

Whom wouldst thou serve ?

You .

Dost thou know me , fellow ?

No , sir ; but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master .

What's that ?

Authority .

What services canst thou do ?

I can keep honest counsel , ride , run , mar a curious tale in telling it , and deliver a plain message bluntly ; that which ordinary men are fit for , I am qualified in , and the best of me is diligence .

How old art thou ?

Not so young , sir , to love a woman for singing , nor so old to dote on her for any thing ; I have years on my back forty-eight .

Follow me ; thou shalt serve me ; if I like thee no worse after dinner I will not part from thee yet . Dinner , ho ! dinner ! Where's my knave ? my fool ? Go you and call my fool hither .


You , you , sirrah , where's my daughter ?

So please you ,


What says the fellow there ? Call the clotpoll back .

Where's my fool , ho ? I think the world's asleep . How now ! where's that mongrel ?


He says , my lord , your daughter is not well .

Why came not the slave back to me when I called him ?

Sir , he answered me in the roundest manner , he would not .

He would not !

My lord , I know not what the matter is ; but , to my judgment , your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont ; there's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the duke himself also and your daughter .

Ha ! sayest thou so ?

I beseech you , pardon me , my lord , if I be mistaken ; for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged .

Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception : I have perceived a most faint neglect of late ; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness : I will look further into 't . But where's my fool ? I have not seen him this two days .

Since my young lady's going into France , sir , the fool hath much pined him away .

No more of that ; I have noted it well .
Go you and tell my daughter I would speak with her .

Go you , call hither my fool .

O ! you sir , you , come you hither , sir . Who am 

I , sir ?

My lady's father .

'My lady's father !' my lord's knave : you whoreson dog ! you slave ! you cur !

I am none of these , my lord ; I beseech your pardon .

Do you bandy looks with me , you rascal ?


I'll not be struck , my lord .

Nor tripped neither , you base football player .


I thank thee , fellow ; thou servest me , and I'll love thee .

Come , sir , arise , away ! I'll teach you differences : away , away ! If you will measure your lubber's length again , tarry ; but away !
Go to ; have you wisdom ? so .


Now , my friendly knave , I thank thee : there's earnest of thy service .

Let me hire him too : here's my coxcomb .


How now , my pretty knave ! how dost thou ?

Sirrah , you were best take my coxcomb .

Why , fool ?

Why ? for taking one's part that's out of favour . Nay , an thou canst not smile as the wind sits , thou'lt catch cold shortly : there , take my coxcomb . Why , this fellow has banished two on 's daughters , and did the third a blessing against his will : if thou follow him thou must needs wear my coxcomb . How now , nuncle ! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters !

Why , my boy ?

If I gave them all my living , I'd keep my coxcombs myself . There's mine ; beg another of thy daughters .

Take heed , sirrah ; the whip .

Truth's a dog must to kennel ; he must be whipped out when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink .

A pestilent gall to me !

Sirrah , I'll teach' thee a speech .

Do .

Mark it , nuncle :

Have more than thou showest ,
Speak less than thou knowest ,
Lend less than thou owest ,
Ride more than thou goest ,
Learn more than thou trowest ,
Set less than thou throwest ;
Leave thy drink and thy whore ,
And keep in-a-door ,
And thou shalt have more 
Than two tens to a score .


This is nothing , fool .

Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer , you gave me nothing for 't . Can you make no use of nothing , nuncle ?

Why , no , boy ; nothing can be made out of nothing .

Prithee , tell him , so much the rent of his land comes to : he will not believe a fool .

A bitter fool !

Dost thou know the difference , my boy , between a bitter fool and a sweet fool ?

No , lad ; teach me .


That lord that counsell'd thee 
To give away thy land ,
Come place him here by me ,
Do thou for him stand :
The sweet and bitter fool 
Will presently appear ;
The one in motley here ,
The other found out there .


Dost thou call me fool , boy ?

All thy other titles thou hast given away ; that thou wast born with .

This is not altogether fool , my lord .

No , faith , lords and great men will not let me ; if I had a monopoly out , they would have part on 't , and ladies too : they will not let me have all fool to myself ; they'll be snatching . Nuncle , give me an egg , and I'll give thee two crowns .

What two crowns shall they be ?

Why , after I have cut the egg i' the middle and eat up the meat , the two crowns of the egg . When thou clovest thy crown i' the middle , and gavest away both parts , thou borest thine ass on thy back o'er the dirt : thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy golden one away . If I speak like myself in this , let him be whipped that first finds it so .

Fools had ne'er less grace in a year ;
For wise men are grown foppish ,
And know not how their wits to wear ,
Their manners are so apish .


When were you wont to be so full of songs , sirrah ?

I have used it , nuncle , ever since thou madest thy daughters thy mothers ; for when thou gavest them the rod and puttest down thine own breeches ,

Then they for sudden joy did weep ,
And I for sorrow sung ,
That such a king should play bo-peep ,
And go the fools among .

Prithee , nuncle , keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to lie : I would fain learn to lie .

An you lie , sirrah , we'll have you whipped .

I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are : they'll have me whipped for speaking true , thou'lt have me whipped for lying ; and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace . I had rather be any kind o' thing than a fool ; and yet I would not be thee , nuncle ; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides , and left nothing i' the middle : here comes one o' the parings .


How now , daughter ! what makes that frontlet on ? Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown .

Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning ; now thou art an O without a figure . I am better than thou art now ; I am a fool , thou art nothing .

Yes , forsooth , I will hold my tongue ; so your face bids me , though you say nothing .

Mum , mum ;
He that keeps nor crust nor crumb ,
Weary of all , shall want some .

That's a shealed peascod .


Not only , sir , this your all-licens'd fool ,
But other of your insolent retinue 
Do hourly carp and quarrel , breaking forth 
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots . Sir ,
I had thought , by making this well known unto you ,
To have found a safe redress ; but now grow fearful ,
By what yourself too late have spoke and done .
That you protect this course , and put it on 
By your allowance ; which if you should , the fault 
Would not 'scape censure , nor the redresses sleep ,
Which , in the tender of a wholesome weal ,
Might in their working do you that offence ,
Which else were shame , that then necessity 
Will call discreet proceeding .

For you trow , nuncle ,

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long ,
That it had it head bit off by it young .

So out went the candle , and we were left darkling .

Are you our daughter ?

I would you would make use of your good wisdom ,
Whereof I know you are fraught ; and put away 
These dispositions which of late transform you 
From what you rightly are .

May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse ? Whoop , Jug ! I love thee .

Does any here know me ? This is not Lear :
Does Lear walk thus ? speak thus ? Where are his eyes ?
Either his notion weakens , his discernings 
Are lethargied . Ha ! waking ? 'tis not so .
Who is it that can tell me who I am ?

Lear's shadow .

I would learn that ; for , by the marks of sovereignty , knowledge and reason , I should be false persuaded I had daughters .

Which they will make an obedient father .

Your name , fair gentlewoman ?

This admiration , sir , is much o' the favour 
Of other your new pranks . I do beseech you 
To understand my purposes aright :
As you are old and reverend , should be wise .
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires ;
Men so disorder'd , so debosh'd , and bold ,
That this our court , infected with their manners ,
Shows like a riotous inn : epicurism and lust 
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel 
Than a grac'd palace . The shame itself doth speak 
For instant remedy ; be then desir'd 
By her that else will take the thing she begs ,
A little to disquantity your train ;
And the remainder , that shall still depend ,
To be such men as may besort your age ,
Which know themselves and you .

Darkness and devils !
Saddle my horses ; call my train together .
Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee :
Yet have I left a daughter .

You strike my people , and your disorder'd rabble 
Make servants of their betters .


Woe , that too late repents ;


O ! sir , are you come ?
Is it your will ? Speak , sir . Prepare my horses .
Ingratitude , thou marble-hearted fiend ,
More hideous , when thou show'st thee in a child ,
Than the sea-monster .

Pray , sir , be patient .

Detested kite ! thou liest :
My train are men of choice and rarest parts ,
That all particulars of duty know ,
And in the most exact regard support 
The worships of their name . O most small fault ,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show !
Which , like an engine , wrench'd my frame of nature 
From the fix'd place , drew from my heart all love ,
And added to the gall . O Lear , Lear , Lear !
Beat at this gate , that let thy folly in ,

And thy dear judgment out ! Go , go , my people .

My lord , I am guiltless , as I am ignorant 
Of what hath mov'd you .

It may be so , my lord .
Hear , Nature , hear ! dear goddess , hear !
Suspend thy purpose , if thou didst intend 
To make this creature fruitful !
Into her womb convey sterility !
Dry up in her the organs of increase ,
And from her derogate body never spring 
A babe to honour her ! If she must teem ,
Create her child of spleen , that it may live 
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her !
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ,
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks ,
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits 
To laughter and contempt , that she may feel 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
To have a thankless child ! Away , away !


Now , gods that we adore , whereof comes this ?

Never afflict yourself to know the cause ;
But let his disposition have that scope 
That dotage gives it .


What ! fifty of my followers at a clap ,
Within a fortnight ?

What's the matter , sir ?

I'll tell thee .

Life and death ! I am asham'd 
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ,
That these hot tears , which break from me perforce ,
Should make thee worth them . Blasts and fogs upon thee !
Th' untented woundings of a father's curse 
Pierce every sense about thee ! Old fond eyes ,
Beweep this cause again , I'll pluck ye out ,
And cast you , with the waters that you lose ,
To temper clay . Yea , is it come to this ?
Let it be so : I have another daughter ,
Who , I am sure , is kind and comfortable :
When she shall hear this of thee , with her nails 
She'll flay thy wolvish visage . Thou shalt find 
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think 
I have cast off for ever ; thou shalt , I warrant thee .


Do you mark that ?

I cannot be so partial , Goneril ,
To the great love I bear you .

Pray you , content . What , Oswald , ho !


You , sir , more knave than fool , after your master .

Nuncle Lear , nuncle Lear ! tarry , and take the fool with thee .

A fox , when one has caught her ,
And such a daughter ,
Should sure to the slaughter ,
If my cap would buy a halter ;
So the fool follows after .

This man hath had good counsel . A hundred knights !
'Tis politic and safe to let him keep 
At point a hundred knights ; yes , that on every dream ,
Each buzz , each fancy , each complaint , dislike ,
He may enguard his dotage with their powers ,
And hold our lives in mercy . Oswald , I say !

Well , you may fear too far .

Safer than trust too far .
Let me still take away the harms I fear ,
Not fear still to be taken : I know his heart .
What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister ;
If she sustain him and his hundred knights ,
When I have show'd the unfitness ,


How now , Oswald !

What ! have you writ that letter to my sister ?

Ay , madam .

Take you some company , and away to horse :
Inform her full of my particular fear ;
And thereto add such reasons of your own 
As may compact it more . Get you gone ,
And hasten your return .

No , no , my lord ,
This milky gentleness and course of yours 
Though I condemn not , yet , under pardon ,
You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom 
Than prais'd for harmful mildness .

How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell :
Striving to better , oft we mar what's well .

Nay , then 

Well , well ; the event .


Go you before to Gloucester with these letters . Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you know than comes from her demand out of the letter . If your diligence be not speedy I shall be there before you .

I will not sleep , my lord , till I have delivered your letter .


If a man's brains were in 's heels , were't not in danger of kibes ?

Ay , boy .

Then , I prithee , be merry ; thy wit shall not go slip-shod .

Ha , ha , ha !

Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly ; for though she's as like this as a crab is like an apple , yet I can tell what I can tell .

What canst tell , boy ?

She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab . Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' the middle on 's face ?

No .

Why , to keep one's eyes of either side's nose , that what a man cannot smell out , he may spy into .

I did her wrong ,

Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell ?

No .

Nor I neither ; but I can tell why a snail has a house .

Why ?

Why , to put his head in ; not to give it away to his daughters , and leave his horns without a case .

I will forget my nature . So kind a father ! Be my horses ready ?

Thy asses are gone about 'em . The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason .

Because they are not eight ?

Yes , indeed : thou wouldst make a good fool .

To take it again perforce ! Monster ingratitude !

If thou wert my fool , nuncle , I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time .

How's that ?

Thou shouldst not have been old before thou hadst been wise .

O ! let me not be mad , not mad , sweet heaven ;
Keep me in temper ; I would not be mad !

How now ! Are the horses ready ?

Ready , my lord .

Come , boy .

She that's a maid now , and laughs at my departure ,
Shall not be a maid long , unless things be cut shorter .

Save thee , Curan .

And you , sir . I have been with your father , and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him to-night .

How comes that ?

Nay , I know not . You have heard of the news abroad ? I mean the whispered ones , for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments ?

Not I : pray you , what are they ?

Have you heard of no likely wars toward , 'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ?

Not a word .

You may do then , in time . Fare you well , sir .


The duke be here to-night ! The better ! best !
This weaves itself perforce into my business .
My father hath set guard to take my brother ;
And I have one thing , of a queasy question ,
Which I must act . Briefness and fortune , work !
Brother , a word ; descend : brother , I say !


My father watches : O sir ! fly this place ;
Intelligence is given where you are hid ;
You have now the good advantage of the night .
Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall ?
He's coming hither , now , i' the night , i' the haste ,
And Regan with him ; have you nothing said 
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany ?

Advise yourself .

I am sure on 't , not a word .

I hear my father coming ; pardon me ;
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you ;
Draw ; seem to defend yourself ; now 'quit you well .
Yield ;come before my father . Light , ho ! here !
Fly , brother . Torches ! torches ! So , farewell .

Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 

Of my more fierce endeavour : I have seen drunkards 
Do more than this in sport . Father ! father !
Stop , stop ! No help ?


Now , Edmund , where's the villain ?

Here stood he in the dark , his sharp sword out ,
Mumbling of wicked charms , conjuring the moon 
To stand auspicious mistress .

But where is he ?

Look , sir , I bleed .

Where is the villain , Edmund ?

Fled this way , sir . When by no means he could 

Pursue him , ho ! Go after .

'By no means' what ?

Persuade me to the murder of your lordship ;
But that I told him , the revenging gods 
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend ;
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond 
The child was bound to the father ; sir , in fine ,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood 
To his unnatural purpose , in fell motion ,
With his prepared sword he charges home 
My unprovided body , lanc'd mine arm :
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits 
Bold in the quarrel's right , rous'd to the encounter ,
Or whether gasted by the noise I made ,
Full suddenly he fled .

Let him fly far :
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught ;
And found dispatch . The noble duke my master ,
My worthy arch and patron , comes to-night :
By his authority I will proclaim it ,
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks ,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake ;
He that conceals him , death .

When I dissuaded him from his intent ,
And found him pight to do it , with curst speech 
I threaten'd to discover him : he replied ,
'Thou unpossessing bastard ! dost thou think ,
If I would stand against thee , would the reposal 
Of any trust , virtue , or worth , in thee 
Make thy words faith'd ? No : what I should deny ,
As this I would ; ay , though thou didst produce 
My very character ,I'd turn it all 
To thy suggestion , plot , and damned practice :
And thou must make a dullard of the world ,
If they not thought the profits of my death 
Were very pregnant and potential spurs 
To make thee seek it .' 

Strong and fasten'd villain !
Would he deny his letter ? I never got him .

Hark ! the duke's trumpets . I know not why he comes .
All ports I'll bar ; the villain shall not 'scape ;
The duke must grant me that : besides , his picture 
I will send far and near , that all the kingdom 
May have due note of him ; and of my land ,
Loyal and natural boy , I'll work the means 
To make thee capable .


How now , my noble friend ! since I came hither ,
Which I can call but now ,I have heard strange news .

If it be true , all vengeance comes too short 
Which can pursue the offender . How dost , my lord ?

O ! madam , my old heart is crack'd , it's crack'd .

What ! did my father's godson seek your life ?
He whom my father nam'd ? your Edgar ?

O ! lady , lady , shame would have it hid .

Was he not companion with the riotous knights 
That tend upon my father ?

I know not , madam ; 'tis too bad , too bad .

Yes , madam , he was of that consort .

No marvel then though he were ill affected ;
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death ,
To have the expense and waste of his revenues .
I have this present evening from my sister 
Been well-inform'd of them , and with such cautions 
That if they come to sojourn at my house ,
I'll not be there .

Nor I , assure thee , Regan .
Edmund , I hear that you have shown your father 
A child-like office .

'Twas my duty , sir .

He did bewray his practice ; and receiv'd 
This hurt you see , striving to apprehend him .

Is he pursu'd ?

Ay , my good lord .

If he be taken he shall never more 
Be fear'd of doing harm ; make your own purpose ,
How in my strength you please . For you , Edmund ,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant 
So much commend itself , you shall be ours :
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need ;
You we first seize on .

I shall serve you , sir ,
Truly , however else .

For him I thank your Grace .

You know not why we came to visit you ,

Thus out of season , threading dark-ey'd night :
Occasions , noble Gloucester , of some prize ,
Wherein we must have use of your advice .
Our father he hath writ , so hath our sister ,
Of differences , which I best thought it fit 
To answer from our home ; the several messengers 
From hence attend dispatch . Our good old friend ,
Lay comforts to your bosom , and bestow 
Your needful counsel to our businesses ,
Which craves the instant use .

I serve you , madam .
Your Graces are right welcome .


Good dawning to thee , friend : art of this house ?

Ay .

Where may we set our horses ?

I' the mire .

Prithee , if thou lovest me , tell me .

I love thee not .

Why , then I care not for thee .

If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold , I would make thee care for me .

Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee not .

Fellow , I know thee .

What dost thou know me for ?

A knave , a rascal , an eater of broken meats ; a base , proud , shallow , beggarly , three-suited , hundred-pound , filthy , worsted-stocking knave ; a lily-liver'd , action-taking knave ; a whoreson , glass-gazing , superserviceable , finical rogue ; one-trunk-inheriting slave ; one that wouldst be a bawd , in way of good service , and art nothing but the composition of a knave , beggar , coward , pandar , and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch : one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition .

Why , what a monstrous fellow art thou , thus to rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee !

What a brazen-faced varlet art thou , to deny thou knowest me ! Is it two days since I tripped up thy heels and beat thee before the king ? Draw , you rogue ; for , though it be night , yet the moon shines : I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you .

Draw , you whoreson , cullionly , barber-monger , draw .

Away ! I have nothing to do with thee .

Draw , you rascal ; you come with letters against the king , and take vanity the pupet's part against the royalty of her father . Draw , you rogue , or I'll so carbonado your shanks : draw , you rascal ; come your ways .

Help , ho ! murder ! help !

Strike , you slave ; stand , rogue , stand ; you neat slave , strike .


Help , oh ! murder ! murder !


How now ! What's the matter ?


With you , goodman boy , if you please : come ,
I'll flesh ye ; come on , young master .


Weapons ! arms ! What's the matter here ?

Keep peace , upon your lives :
He dies that strikes again . What is the matter ?

The messengers from our sister and the king .

What is your difference ? speak .

I am scarce in breath , my lord .

No marvel , you have so bestirred your valour . You cowardly rascal , nature disclaims in thee : a tailor made thee .

Thou art a strange fellow ; a tailor make a man ?

Ay , a tailor , sir : a stone-cutter or a painter could not have made him so ill , though they had been but two hours o' the trade .

Speak yet , how grew your quarrel ?

This ancient ruffian , sir , whose life I have spar'd at suit of his grey beard ,

Thou whoreson zed ! thou unnecessary letter ! My lord , if you will give me leave , I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar , and daub the wall of a jakes with him . Spare my grey beard , you wagtail ?

Peace , sirrah !
You beastly knave , know you no reverence ?

Yes , sir ; but anger hath a privilege .

Why art thou angry ?

That such a slave as this should wear a sword ,
Who wears no honesty . Such smiling rogues as these ,
Like rats , oft bite the holy cords a-twain 
Which are too intrinse t' unloose ; smooth every passion 
That in the natures of their lords rebel ;
Bring oil to fire , snow to their colder moods ;
Renege , affirm , and turn their halcyon beaks 
With every gale and vary of their masters ,
Knowing nought , like dogs , but following .
A plague upon your epileptic visage !
Smile you my speeches , as I were a fool ?
Goose , if I had you upon Sarum plain ,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot .

What ! art thou mad , old fellow ?

How fell you out ? say that .

No contraries hold more antipathy 
Than I and such a knave .

Why dost thou call him knave ? What is his fault ?

His countenance likes me not .

No more , perchance , does mine , nor his , nor hers .

Sir , 'tis my occupation to be plain :
I have seen better faces in my time 
Than stands on any shoulder that I see 
Before me at this instant .

This is some fellow ,
Who , having been prais'd for bluntness , doth affect 
A saucy roughness , and constrains the garb 
Quite from his nature : he cannot flatter , he ,
An honest mind and plain , he must speak truth :
An they will take it , so ; if not , he's plain .
These kind of knaves I know , which in this plainness 
Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends 
Than twenty silly-ducking observants ,
That stretch their duties nicely .

Sir , in good sooth , in sincere verity ,
Under the allowance of your grand aspect ,
Whose influence , like the wreath of radiant fire 
On flickering Ph bus' front ,

What mean'st by this ?

To go out of my dialect , which you discommend so much . I know , sir , I am no flatterer : he that beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave ; which for my part I will not be , though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to 't .

What was the offence you gave him ?

I never gave him any :
It pleas'd the king his master very late 
To strike at me , upon his misconstruction ;
When he , conjunct , and flattering his displeasure ,
Tripp'd me behind ; being down , insulted , rail'd ,
And put upon him such a deal of man ,
That worthied him , got praises of the king 
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd ;
And , in the fleshment of this dread exploit ,
Drew on me here again .

None of these rogues and cowards 
But Ajax is their fool .

Fetch forth the stocks !
You stubborn ancient knave , you reverend braggart ,
We'll teach you .

Sir , I am too old to learn ,
Call not your stocks for me ; I serve the king ,
On whose employment I was sent to you ;
You shall do small respect , show too bold malice 
Against the grace and person of my master ,
Stocking his messenger .

Fetch forth the stocks ! As I have life and honour ,
There shall he sit till noon .

Till noon ! Till night , my lord ; and all night too .

Why , madam , if I were your father's dog ,
You should not use me so .

Sir , being his knave , I will .

This is a fellow of the self-same colour 
Our sister speaks of . Come , bring away the stocks .


Let me beseech your Grace not to do so .
His fault is much , and the good king his master 
Will check him for't : your purpos'd low correction 
Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches 
For pilferings and most common trespasses 
Are punish'd with : the king must take it ill ,
That he , so slightly valu'd in his messenger ,
Should have him thus restrain'd .

I'll answer that .

My sister may receive it much more worse 
To have her gentleman abus'd , assaulted ,
For following her affairs . Put in his legs .

Come , my good lord , away .


I am sorry for thee , friend ; 'tis the duke's pleasure ,
Whose disposition , all the world well knows ,
Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd ; I'll entreat for thee .

Pray , do not , sir . I have watch'd and travell'd hard ;
Some time I shall sleep out , the rest I'll whistle .
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels :
Give you good morrow !

The duke's to blame in this ; 'twill be ill taken .


Good king , that must approve the common saw ,
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st 
To the warm sun .
Approach , thou beacon to this under globe ,
That by thy comfortable beams I may 
Peruse this letter . Nothing almost sees miracles 
But misery : I know 'tis from Cordelia ,
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd 
Of my obscured course ; and shall find time 
From this enormous state , seeking to give 
Losses their remedies . All weary and o'erwatch'd ,
Take vantage , heavy eyes , not to behold 
This shameful lodging .
Fortune , good night , smile once more ; turn thy wheel !


I heard myself proclaim'd ;
And by the happy hollow of a tree 
Escap'd the hunt . No port is free ; no place ,
That guard , and most unusual vigilance ,
Does not attend my taking . While I may 'scape 
I will preserve myself ; and am bethought 
To take the basest and most poorest shape 
That ever penury , in contempt of man ,
Brought near to beast ; my face I'll grime with filth ,
Blanket my loins , elf all my hair in knots ,
And with presented nakedness outface 
The winds and persecutions of the sky .
The country gives me proof and precedent 
Of Bedlam beggars , who with roaring voices ,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
Pins , wooden pricks , nails , sprigs of rosemary ;
And with this horrible object , from low farms ,
Poor pelting villages , sheep-cotes , and mills ,
Sometime with lunatic bans , sometime with prayers ,
Enforce their charity . Poor Turlygood ! poor Tom !
That's something yet : Edgar I nothing am .


'Tis strange that they should so depart from home ,
And not send back my messenger .

As I learn'd ,
The night before there was no purpose in them 
Of this remove .

Hail to thee , noble master !

Ha !
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime ?

No , my lord .

Ha , ha ! he wears cruel garters . Horses are tied by the head , dogs and bears by the neck , monkeys by the loins , and men by the legs : when a man is over-lusty at legs , then he wears wooden nether-stocks .

What's he that hath so much thy place mistook 
To set thee here ?

It is both he and she ,
Your son and daughter .

No .

Yes .

No , I say .

I say , yea .

No , no ; they would not .

Yes , they have .

By Jupiter , I swear , no .

By Juno , I swear , ay .

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 .

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 , there came 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 perceiv'd , had poison'd mine ,
Being the very fellow which of late 
Display'd so saucily against your highness ,
Having more man than wit about me ,drew :
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries .
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 
The shame which here it suffers .

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 .

O ! how this mother swells up toward my heart ;
Hysterica passio ! down , thou climbing sorrow !
Thy element's below . Where is this daughter ?

With the earl , sir : here within .

Follow me not ; stay here .


Made you no more offence than what you speak of ?

None .
How chance the king comes with so small a number ?

An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that question , thou hadst well deserved it .

Why , 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 .


Where learn'd you this , fool ?

Not i' the stocks , fool .


Deny to speak with me ! They are sick ! they are weary ,
They have travell'd hard to-night ! Mere fetches ,
The images of revolt and flying off .
Fetch me a better answer .

My dear lord ,
You know the fiery quality of the duke ;
How unremovable and fix'd he is 
In his own course .

Vengeance ! plague ! death ! confusion !
Fiery ! what quality ? Why , Gloucester , Gloucester ,
I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife .

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

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

Ay , my good lord .

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 indispos'd and sickly fit 
For the sound man . Death on my state !

Wherefore 
Should he sit here ? This act persuades me 
That this remotion of the duke and her 
Is practice only . Give me my servant forth .
Go , tell the duke and's wife I'd 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 .

I would have all well betwixt you .


O , me ! my heart , my rising heart ! but , down !

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 .


Good morrow to you both .

Hail to your Grace !


I am glad to see your highness .

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 adult'ress .

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 :

I can scarce speak to thee ; thou'lt not believe 
With how deprav'd a quality O Regan !

I pray you , sir , take patience . I have hope 
You less know how to value her desert 
Than she to scant her duty .

Say , how is that ?

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 .

My curses on her !

O , sir ! you are old ;
Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine : you should be rul'd 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 .

Ask her forgiveness ?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house :
'Dear daughter , I confess that I am old ;
Age is unnecessary : on my knees I beg 

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

Good sir , no more ; these are unsightly tricks :
Return you to my sister .

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 stor'd vengeances of heaven fall 
On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones ,
You taking airs , with lameness !

Fie , air , fie !

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 !

O the blest gods ! So will you wish on me ,
When the rash mood is on .

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 .

Good sir , to the purpose .

Who put my man i' the stocks ?


What trumpet's that ?

I know't , my sister's ; this approves her letter ,
That she would soon be here . Is your lady come ?


This is a slave , whose easy-borrow'd pride 
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows .
Out , varlet , from my sight !

What means your Grace ?

Who stock'd my servant ? Regan , I have good hope 
Thou didst not know on 't . Who comes here ? O heavens ,


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 !


Art not asham'd to look upon this beard ?

O Regan , wilt thou take her by the hand ?

Why not by the hand , sir ? How have I offended ?
All's not offence that indiscretion finds 
And dotage terms so .

O sides ! you are too tough ;
Will you yet hold ? How came my man i' the stocks ?

I set him there , sir : but his own disorders 
Deserv'd much less advancement .

You ! did you ?

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 .

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 .


At your choice , sir .

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 .

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 .

Is this well spoken ?

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 .

Why might not you , my lord , receive attendance 
From those that she calls servants , or from mine ?

Why not , my lord ? If then they chanc'd 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 .

I gave you all 

And in good time you gave it 

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 ?

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

Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd ,
When others are more wicked ; not being the worst 
Stands in some rank of praise .

I'll go with thee :
Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty ,
And thou art twice her love .

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 ?

What need one ?

O ! reason not the need ; our basest beggars 
Are in the poorest thing superfluous :
Allow not nature more than nature needs ,
Man's life is 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 .


Let us withdraw ; 'twill be a storm .


This house is little : the old man and his people 
Cannot be well bestow'd .

'Tis his own blame ; hath put himself from rest ,
And must needs taste his folly .

For his particular , I'll receive him gladly ,
But not one follower .

So am I purpos'd .
Where is my Lord of Gloucester ?

Follow'd the old man forth . He is return'd .


The king is in high rage .

Whither is he going ?

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

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

My lord , entreat him by no means to stay .

Alack ! the night comes on , and the bleak winds 
Do sorely ruffle ; for many miles about 
There's scarce a bush .

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 abus'd , wisdom bids fear .

Shut up your doors , my lord ; 'tis a wild night :
My Regan counsels well : come out o' the storm .

Who's here , beside foul weather ?

One minded like the weather , most unquietly .

I know you . Where's the king ?

Contending with the fretful elements ;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea ,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main ,
That things might change or cease ; tears his white hair ,
Which the impetuous blasts , with eyeless rage ,
Catch in their fury , and make nothing of ;
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain .
This night , wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch ,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
Keep their fur dry , unbonneted he runs ,
And bids what will take all .

But who is with him ?

None but the fool , who labours to out-jest 
His heart-struck injuries .

Sir , I do know you ;
And dare , upon the warrant of my note ,
Commend a dear thing to you . There is division ,
Although as yet the face of it be cover'd 
With mutual cunning , 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ;
Who have as who have not , that their great stars 
Thron'd and set high servants , who seem no less ,
Which are to France the spies and speculations 
Intelligent of our state ; what hath been seen ,
Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes ,
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne 
Against the old kind king ; or something deeper ,
Whereof perchance these are but furnishings ;
But , true it is , from France there comes a power 
Into this scatter'd kingdom ; who already ,
Wise in our negligence , have secret feet 
In some of our best ports , and are at point 
To show their open banner . Now to you :
If on my credit you dare build so far 
To make your speed to Dover , you shall find 
Some that will thank you , making just report 
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 
The king hath cause to plain .
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding ,
And from some knowledge and assurance offer 
This office to you .

I will talk further with you .

No , do not .
For confirmation that I am much more 
Than my out-wall , open this purse , and take 
What it contains . If you shall see Cordelia ,
As doubt not but you shall ,show her this ring ,
And she will tell you who your fellow is 
That yet you do not know . Fie on this storm !
I will go seek the king .

Give me your hand . Have you no more to say ?

Few words , but , to effect , more than all yet ;
That , when we have found the king ,in which your pain 
That way , I'll this ,he that first lights on him 
Holla the other .


Blow , winds , and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow !
You cataracts and hurricanoes , spout 
Till you have drench'd our steeples , drown'd the cocks !
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires ,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts ,
Singe my white head ! And thou , all-shaking thunder ,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world !
Crack nature's moulds , all germens spill at once 
That make ingrateful man !

O nuncle , court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o' door . Good nuncle , in , and ask thy daughters' blessing ; here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool .

Rumble thy bellyfull Spit , fire ! spout , rain !
Nor rain , wind , thunder , fire , are my daughters :
I tax not you , you elements , with unkindness ;
I never gave you kingdom , call'd you children ,
You owe me no subscription : then , let fall 
Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand , your slave ,
A poor , infirm , weak , and despis'd old man .
But yet I call you servile ministers ,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd 
Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this . O ! O ! 'tis foul .

He that has a house to put his head in has a good head-piece .

The cod-piece that will house 
Before the head has any ,
The head and he shall louse ;
So beggars marry many .
The man that makes his toe 
What he his heart should make ,
Shall of a corn cry woe ,
And turn his sleep to wake .

For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass .


No , I will be the pattern of all patience ; I will say nothing .

Who's there ?

Marry , here's grace and a cod-piece ; that's a wise man and a fool .

Alas ! sir , are you here ? things that love night 
Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful skies 
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark ,
And make them keep their caves . Since I was man 
Such sheets of fire , such bursts of horrid thunder ,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain , I never 
Remember to have heard ; man's nature cannot carry 
The affliction nor the fear .

Let the great gods ,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads ,
Find out their enemies now . Tremble , thou wretch ,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes ,
Unwhipp'd of justice ; hide thee , thou bloody hand ;
Thou perjur'd , and thou simular of virtue 
That art incestuous ; caitiff , to pieces shake ,
That under covert and convenient seeming 
Hast practis'd on man's life ; close pent-up guilts ,
Rive your concealing continents , and cry 
These dreadful summoners grace . I am a man 
More sinn'd against than sinning .

Alack ! bare-headed !
Gracious my lord , hard by here is a hovel ;
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest ;
Repose you there while I to this hard house ,
More harder than the stone whereof 'tis rais'd ,
Which even but now , demanding after you ,
Denied me to come in , return and force 
Their scanted courtesy .

My wits begin to turn .
Come on , my boy . How dost , my boy ? Art cold ?
I am cold myself . Where is this straw , my fellow ?
The art of our necessities is strange ,
That can make vile things precious . Come , your hovel .
Poor fool and knave , I have one part in my heart 
That's sorry yet for thee .


He that has a little tiny wit ,
With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ,
Must make content with his fortunes fit ,
Though the rain it raineth every day .


True , my good boy . Come , bring us to this hovel .


This is a brave night to cool a courtezan .
I'll speak a prophecy ere I go :

When priests are more in word than matter ;
When brewers mar their malt with water ;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors ;
No heretics burn'd , but wenches' suitors ;
When every case in law is right ;
No squire in debt , nor no poor knight ;
When slanders do not live in tongues ;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs ;
When usurers tell their gold i' the field ;
And bawds and whores do churches build ;
Then shall the realm of Albion 
Come to great confusion :
Then comes the time , who lives to see 't ,
That going shall be us'd with feet .

This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before his time .


Alack , alack ! Edmund , I like not this unnatural dealing . When I desired their leave that I might pity him , they took from me the use of mine own house ; charged me , on pain of their perpetual displeasure , neither to speak of him , entreat for him , nor any way sustain him .

Most savage , and unnatural !

Go to ; say you nothing . There is division between the dukes , and a worse matter than that . I have received a letter this night ; 'tis dangerous to be spoken ; I have locked the letter in my closet . These injuries the king now bears will be revenged home ; there's part of a power already footed ; we must incline to the king . I will seek him and privily relieve him ; go you and maintain talk with the duke , that my charity be not of him perceived . If he ask for me , I am ill and gone to bed . If I die for it , as no less is threatened me , the king , my old master , must be relieved . There is some strange thing toward , Edmund ; pray you , be careful .


This courtesy , forbid thee , shall the duke 
Instantly know ; and of that letter too :
This seems a fair deserving , and must draw me 
That which my father loses ; no less than all :
The younger rises when the old doth fall .


Here is the place , my lord ; good my lord , enter :
The tyranny of the open night's too rough 
For nature to endure .


Let me alone .

Good my lord , enter here .

Wilt break my heart ?

I'd rather break mine own . Good my lord , enter .

Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm 
Invades us to the skin : so 'tis to thee ;
But where the greater malady is fix'd ,
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' the mouth . When the mind's free 
The body's delicate ; the tempest in my mind 
Doth from my senses take all feeling else 
Save what beats there . Filial ingratitude !
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand 
For lifting food to 't ? But I will punish home :
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 frank heart gave all ,
O ! that way madness lies ; let me shun that ;
No more of that .

Good , my lord , enter here .

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 .


In , boy ; go first . You houseless poverty ,
Nay , get thee in . I'll pray , and then I'll sleep .

Poor naked wretches , wheresoe'er you are ,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm ,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides ,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness , defend you 
From seasons such as these ? O ! I have ta'en 
Too little care of this . Take physic , pomp ;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them ,
And show the heavens more just .

Fathom and half , fathom and half ! Poor Tom !


Come not in here , nuncle ; here's a spirit .
Help me ! help me !

Give me thy hand . Who's there ?

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

What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw ?
Come forth .


Away ! the foul fiend follows me !
Through the sharp hawthorn blow the winds .
Hum ! go to thy cold bed and warm thee .

Didst thou give all to thy two daughters ?
And art thou come to this ?

Who gives anything to poor Tom ? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame , through ford and whirlpool , o'er bog and quagmire ; that hath laid knives under his pillow , and halters in his pew ; set ratsbane by his porridge ; made him proud of heart , to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges , to course his own shadow for a traitor . Bless thy five wits ! Tom's a-cold . O ! do de , do de , do de . Bless thee from whirlwinds , starblasting , and taking ! Do poor Tom some charity , whom the foul fiend vexes . There could I have him now , and there , and there again , and there .


What ! have his daughters brought him to this pass ?
Couldst thou save nothing ? Didst thou give them all ?

Nay , he reserved a blanket , else we had been all shamed .

Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air 
Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters !

He hath no daughters , sir .

Death , traitor ! nothing could have subdu'd nature 
To such a lowness , but his unkind daughters .
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers 
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh ?
Judicious punishment ! 'twas this flesh begot 
Those pelican daughters .

Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill :
Halloo , halloo , loo , loo !

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

Take heed o' the foul fiend . Obey thy parents ; keep thy word justly ; swear not ; commit not with man's sworn spouse ; set not thy sweet heart on proud array . Tom's a-cold .

What hast thou been ?

A servingman , proud in heart and mind ; that curled my hair , wore gloves in my cap , served the lust of my mistress's 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 in the contriving of lust , and waked to do it . Wine loved I deeply , dice dearly , and in woman out-paramoured the Turk : false of heart , light of ear , bloody of hand ; hog in sloth , fox in stealth , wolf in greediness , dog in madness , lion in prey . Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman : keep thy foot out of brothels , thy hand out of plackets , thy pen from lenders' books , and defy the foul fiend . Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind ; says suum , mun ha no nonny . Dolphin my boy , my boy ; sessa ! let him trot by .


Why , thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies . Is man no more than this ? Consider him well . Thou owest the worm no silk , the beast no hide , the sheep no wool , the cat no perfume . Ha ! here's three on's are sophisticated ; thou art the thing itself ; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor , bare , forked animal as thou art . Off , off , you lendings ! Come ; unbutton here .


Prithee , nuncle , be contented ; 'tis a naughty night to swim in . Now a little fire in a wide field were like an old lecher's heart ; a small spark , all the rest on's body cold . Look ! here comes a walking fire .


This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet : he begins at curfew , and walks till the first cock ; he gives the web and the pin , squints the eye , and makes the harelip ; mildews the white wheat , and hurts the poor creature of earth .

Swithold footed thrice the old ;
He met the night-mare , and her nine-fold ;
Bid her alight ,
And her troth plight ,
And aroint thee , witch , aroint thee !


How fares your Grace ?

What's he ?

Who's there ? What is't you seek ?

What are you there ? Your names ?

Poor Tom ; that eats the swimming frog ; the toad , the tadpole , the wall-newt , and the water ; that in the fury of his heart , when the foul fiend rages , eats cow-dung for sallets ; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog ; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool ; who is whipped from tithing to tithing , and stock-punished , and imprisoned ; who hath had three suits to his back , six shirts to his body , horse to ride , and weapon to wear ;

But mice and rats and such small deer 
Have been Tom's food for seven long year .

Beware my follower . Peace , Smulkin ! peace , thou fiend .

What ! hath your Grace no better company ?

The prince of darkness is a gentleman ;
Modo he's call'd , and Mahu .

Our flesh and blood , my lord , is grown so vile ,
That it doth hate what gets it .

Poor Tom's a-cold .

Go in with me . My duty cannot suffer 
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands :
Though their injunction be to bar my doors ,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you ,
Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out 
And bring you where both fire and food is ready .

First let me talk with this philosopher .
What is the cause of thunder ?

Good my lord , take his offer ; go into the house .

I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban .
What is your study ?

How to prevent the fiend , and to kill vermin .

Let me ask you one word in private .

Importune him once more to go , my lord ;
His wits begin to unsettle .

Canst thou blame him ?

His daughters seek his death . Ah ! that good Kent ;
He said it would be thus , poor banish'd man !
Thou sayst the king grows mad ; I'll tell thee , friend ,
I am almost mad myself . I had a son ,
Now outlaw'd from my blood ; he sought my life ,
But lately , very late ; I lov'd him , friend ,
No father his son dearer ; true to tell thee ,

The grief hath craz'd my wits . What a night's this !
I do beseech your Grace ,

O ! cry you mercy , sir .
Noble philosopher , your company .

Tom's a-cold .

In , fellow , there , into the hovel : keep thee warm .

Come , let's in all .

This way , my lord .

With him ;
I will keep still with my philosopher .

Good my lord , soothe him ; let him take the fellow .

Take him you on .

Sirrah , come on ; go along with us .

Come , good Athenian .

No words , no words : hush .


Child Rowland to the dark tower came ,
His word was still , Fie , foh , and fum ,
I smell the blood of a British man .

I will have my revenge ere I depart his house .

How , my lord , I may be censured , that nature thus gives way to loyalty , something fears me to think of .

I now perceive it was not altogether your brother's evil disposition made him seek his death ; but a provoking merit , set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself .

How malicious is my fortune , that I must repent to be just ! This is the letter he spoke of , which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France . O heavens ! that this treason were not , or not I the detector !

Go with me to the duchess .

If the matter of this paper be certain , you have mighty business in hand .

True , or false , it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester . Seek out where thy father is , that he may be ready for our apprehension .

If I find him comforting the king , it will stuff his suspicion more fully . I will persever in my course of loyalty , though the conflict be sore between that and my blood .

I will lay trust upon thee ; and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love .


Here is better than the open air ; take it thankfully . I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can : I will not be long from you .

All the power of his wits has given way to his impatience . The gods reward your kindness !


Frateretto calls me , and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness . Pray , innocent , and beware the foul fiend .

Prithee , nuncle , tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman !

A king , a king !

No ; he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son ; for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him .

To have a thousand with red burning spits 
Come hizzing in upon 'em ,

The foul fiend bites my back .

He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf , a horse's health , a boy's love , or a whore's oath .

It shall be done ; I will arraign them straight .


Come , sit thou here , most learned justicer ;


Thou , sapient sir , sit here . Now , you she foxes !

Look , where he stands and glares ! wantest thou eyes at trial , madam ?
Come o'er the bourn , Bessy , to me ,


Her boat hath a leak ,
And she must not speak 
Why she dares not come over to thee .


The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale . Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herring . Croak not , black angel ; I have no food for thee .

How do you , sir ? Stand you not so amaz'd :
Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions ?

I'll see their trial first . Bring in their evidence .


Thou robed man of justice , take thy place ;


And thou , his yoke-fellow of equity ,
Bench by his side .

You are o' the commission ,
Sit you too .

Let us deal justly .

Sleepest or wakest thou , jolly shepherd ?
Thy sheep be in the corn ,
And for one blast of thy minikin mouth ,
Thy sheep shall take no harm .

Purr ! the cat is grey .

Arraign her first ; 'tis Goneril . I here take my oath before this honourable assembly , she kicked the poor king her father .

Come hither , mistress . Is your name Goneril ?

She cannot deny it .

Cry you mercy , I took you for a joint-stool .

And here's another , whose warp'd looks proclaim 
What store her heart is made on . Stop her there !
Arms , arms , sword , fire ! Corruption in the place !
False justicer , why hast thou let her 'scape ?

Bless thy five wits !

O pity ! Sir , where is the patience now 
That you so oft have boasted to retain ?

My tears begin to take his part so much ,
They'll mar my counterfeiting .

The little dogs and all ,
Tray , Blanch , and Sweet-heart , see , they bark at me .

Tom will throw his head at them .
Avaunt , you curs !

Be thy mouth or black or white ,
Tooth that poisons if it bite ;
Mastiff , greyhound , mongrel grim ,
Hound or spaniel , brach or lym ;
Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail ;
Tom will make them weep and wail :
For , with throwing thus my head ,
Dogs leap the hatch , and all are fled .

Do de , de , de . Sessa ! Come , march to wakes and fairs and market-towns . Poor Tom , thy horn is dry .

Then let them anatomize Regan , see what breeds about her heart . Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts ?

You , sir , I entertain you for one of my hundred ; only I do not like the fashion of your garments : you will say , they are Persian attire ; but let them be changed .

Now , good my lord , lie here and rest awhile .

Make no noise , make no noise ; draw the curtains : so , so , so . We'll go to supper i' the morning : so , so , so .

And I'll go to bed at noon .


Come hither , friend : where is the king my master ?

Here , sir ; but trouble him not , his wits are gone .

Good friend , I prithee , take him in thy arms ;
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him .
There is a litter ready ; lay him in 't ,
And drive toward Dover , friend , where thou shalt meet 
Both welcome and protection . Take up thy master :
If thou shouldst dally half an hour , his life ,
With thine , and all that offer to defend him ,
Stand in assured loss . Take up , take up ;
And follow me , that will to some provision 
Give thee quick conduct .

Oppress'd nature sleeps :
This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken sinews ,
Which , if convenience will not allow ,
Stand in hard cure .

Come , help to bear thy master ;
Thou must not stay behind .

Come , come , away .


When we our betters see bearing our woes ,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes .
Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind ,
Leaving free things and happy shows behind ;
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip ,
When grief hath mates , and bearing fellowship .
How light and portable my pain seems now ,
When that which makes me bend makes the king bow ;
He childed as I father'd ! Tom , away !
Mark the high noises , and thyself bewray 
When false opinion , whose wrong thought defiles thee ,
In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee .
What will hap more to-night , safe 'scape the king !
Lurk , lurk .


Post speedily to my lord your husband ; show him this letter : the army of France is landed . Seek out the traitor Gloucester .


Hang him instantly .

Pluck out his eyes .

Leave him to my displeasure . Edmund , keep you our sister company : the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding . Advise the duke , where you are going , to a most festinate preparation : we are bound to the like . Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us . Farewell , dear sister : farewell , my Lord of Gloucester .

How now ? Where's the king ?

My Lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence :
Some five or six and thirty of his knights ,
Hot questrists after him , met him at gate ;
Who , with some other of the lord's dependants ,
Are gone with him toward Dover , where they boast 
To have well-armed friends .

Get horses for your mistress .

Farewell , sweet lord , and sister .

Edmund , farewell .

Go seek the traitor Gloucester ,
Pinion him like a thief , bring him before us .

Though well we may not pass upon his life 
Without the form of justice , yet our power 
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath , which men 
May blame but not control . Who's there ? The traitor ?


Ingrateful fox ! 'tis he .

Bind fast his corky arms .

What mean your Graces ? Good my friends , consider 
You are my guests : do me no foul play , friends 

Bind him , I say .


Hard , hard . O filthy traitor !

Unmerciful lady as you are , I'm none .

To this chair bind him . Villain , thou shalt find 


By the kind gods , 'tis most ignobly done 
To pluck me by the beard .

So white , and such a traitor !

Naughty lady ,
These hairs , which thou dost ravish from my chin ,
Will quicken , and accuse thee : I am your host :
With robbers' hands my hospitable favours 
You should not ruffle thus . What will you do ?

Come , sir , what letters had you late from France ?

Be simple-answer'd , for we know the truth .

And what confederacy have you with the traitors 
Late footed in the kingdom ?

To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king ?
Speak .

I have a letter guessingly set down ,
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart ,
And not from one oppos'd .

Cunning .

And false .

Where hast thou sent the king ?

To Dover .

Wherefore to Dover ? Wast thou not charg'd at peril 

Wherefore to Dover ? Let him answer that .

I am tied to the stake , and I must stand the course .

Wherefore to Dover ?

Because I would not see thy cruel nails 
Pluck out his poor old eyes ; nor thy fierce sister 
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs .
The sea , with such a storm as his bare head 
In hell-black night endur'd , would have buoy'd up ,
And quench'd the stelled fires ;
Yet , poor old heart , he holp the heavens to rain .
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that dern time ,
Thou shouldst have said , 'Good porter , turn the key ,' 
All cruels else subscrib'd : but I shall see 
The winged vengeance overtake such children .

See 't shalt thou never . Fellows , hold the chair .
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot .

He that will think to live till he be old ,
Give me some help ! O cruel ! O ye gods !


One side will mock another ; the other too .

If you see vengeance .

Hold your hand , my lord :
I have serv'd you ever since I was a child ,
But better service have I never done you 
Than now to bid you hold .

How now , you dog !

If you did wear a beard upon your chin ,
I'd shake it on this quarrel . What do you mean ?

My villain !


Nay then , come on , and take the chance of anger .


Give me thy sword . A peasant stand up thus !


O ! I am slain . My lord , you have one eye left 
To see some mischief on him . O !


Lest it see more , prevent it . Out , vile jelly !
Where is thy lustre now ?

All dark and comfortless . Where's my son Edmund ?
Edmund , enkindle all the sparks of nature 
To quit this horrid act .

Out , treacherous villain !
Thou call'st on him that hates thee ; it was he 
That made the overture of thy treasons to us ,
Who is too good to pity thee .

O my follies ! Then Edgar was abus'd .
Kind gods , forgive me that , and prosper him !

Go thrust him out at gates , and let him smell 
His way to Dover .

How is 't , my lord ? How look you ?

I have receiv'd a hurt . Follow me , lady .
Turn out that eyeless villain ; throw this slave 
Upon the dunghill . Regan , I bleed apace :
Untimely comes this hurt . Give me your arm .


I'll never care what wickedness I do 
If this man come to good .

If she live long ,
And , in the end , meet the old course of death ,
Women will all turn monsters .

Let's follow the old earl , and get the Bedlam 
To lead him where he would : his roguish madness 
Allows itself to any thing .

Go thou ; I'll fetch some flax , and whites of eggs ,
To apply to his bleeding face . Now , heaven help him !

Yet better thus , and known to be contemn'd ,
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd . To be worst ,
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune ,
Stands still in esperance , lives not in fear :
The lamentable change is from the best ;
The worst returns to laughter . Welcome , then ,
Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace :
The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst 
Owes nothing to thy blasts . But who comes here ?


My father , poorly led ? World , world , O world !
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee ,

Life would not yield to age .

O my good lord !
I have been your tenant , and your father's tenant ,
These fourscore years .

Away , get thee away ; good friend , be gone ;
Thy comforts can do me no good at all ;
Thee they may hurt .

You cannot see your way .

I have no way , and therefore want no eyes ;
I stumbled when I saw . Full oft 'tis seen ,
Our means secure us , and our mere defects 
Prove our commodities . Ah ! dear son Edgar .
The food of thy abused father's wrath ;
Might I but live to see thee in my touch ,
I'd say I had eyes again .

How now ! Who's there ?

O gods ! Who is 't can say , 'I am at the worst ?' 
I am worse than e'er I was .

'Tis poor mad Tom .

And worse I may be yet ; the worst is not ,
So long as we can say , 'This is the worst .' 

Fellow , where goest ?

Is it a beggar-man ?

Madman and beggar too .

He has some reason , else he could not beg .
I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw ,
Which made me think a man a worm : my son 
Came then into my mind ; and yet my mind 
Was then scarce friends with him : I have heard more since .
As flies to wanton boys , are we to the gods ;
They kill us for their sport .

How should this be ?
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow ,
Angering itself and others .

Bless thee , master !

Is that the naked fellow ?

Ay , my lord .

Then , prithee , get thee gone . If , for my sake ,
Thou wilt o'ertake us , hence a mile or twain ,
I' the way toward Dover , do it for ancient love ;
And bring some covering for this naked soul 
Who I'll entreat to lead me .

Alack , sir ! he is mad .

'Tis the times' plague , when madmen lead the blind .
Do as I bid thee , or rather do thy pleasure ;
Above the rest , be gone .

I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have ,
Come on 't what will .


Sirrah , naked fellow ,

Poor Tom's a-cold .

I cannot daub it further .

Come hither , fellow .

And yet I must . Bless thy sweet eyes , they bleed .

Know'st thou the way to Dover ?

Both stile and gate , horse-way and footpath . Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits : bless thee , good man's son , from the foul fiend ! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once ; of lust , as Obidicut ; Hobbididance , prince of dumbness ; Mahu , of stealing ; Modo , of murder ; and Flibbertigibbet , of mopping and mowing ; who since possesses chambermaids and waiting-women . So , bless thee , master !

Here , take this purse , thou whom the heavens' plagues 
Have humbled to all strokes : that I am wretched 
Makes thee the happier : heavens , deal so still !
Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man ,
That slaves your ordinance , that will not see 
Because he doth not feel , feel your power quickly ;
So distribution should undo excess ,
And each man have enough . Dost thou know Dover ?

Ay , master .

There is a cliff , whose high and bending head 
Looks fearfully in the confined deep ;
Bring me but to the very brim of it ,
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear ;
With something rich about me ; from that place 
I shall no leading need .

Give me thy arm :
Poor Tom shall lead thee .


Welcome , my lord ; I marvel our mild husband 
Not met us on the way .

Now , where's your master ?

Madam , within ; but never man so chang'd .
I told him of the army that was landed ;
He smil'd 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 ,
And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out :
What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him ;
What like , offensive .

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 powers :
I must change arms at home , and give the distaff 
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 ;

Decline your head : this kiss , if it durst speak ,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air .
Conceive , and fare thee well .

Yours in the ranks of death .

My most dear Gloucester !

O ! the difference of man and man !
To thee a woman's services are due :
My fool usurps my bed .

Madam , here comes my lord .

I have been worth the whistle .

O Goneril !
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 
From her material sap , perforce must wither 
And come to deadly use .

No more ; the text is foolish .

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 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 .

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 slayer begins threats ,
Whilst thou , a moral fool , sitt'st still , and criest 
'Alack ! why does he so ?' 

See thyself , devil !
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend 
So horrid as in woman .

O vain fool !

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 ,
A woman's shape doth shield thee .

Marry , your manhood .Mew !


What news ?

O ! my good lord , the Duke of Cornwall's dead ;
Slain by his servant , going to put out 
The other eye of Gloucester .

Gloucester's eyes !

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 .

This shows you are above ,
You justicers , that these our nether crimes 
So speedily can venge ! But , O poor Gloucester !
Lost he his other eye ?

Both , both , my lord .
This letter , madam , craves a speedy answer ;
'Tis from your sister .

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 ,
This news is not so tart .

I'll read and answer .


Where was his son when they did take his eyes ?

Come with my lady hither .

He is not here .

No , my good lord ; I met him back again .

Knows he the wickedness ?

Ay , my good lord ; 'twas he inform'd against him ,
And quit the house on purpose that their punishment 
Might have the freer course .

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 knowest .


Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason ?

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 .

Who hath he left behind him general ?

The Marshal of France , Monsieur la Far .

Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief ?

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 passion ; who , most rebel-like ,
Sought to be king o'er her .

O ! then it mov'd her .

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 .

Made she no verbal question ?

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' the storm ? i' the night ?
Let pity not be believed !' There she shook 
The holy water from her heavenly eyes ,
And clamour-moisten'd , then away she started 
To deal with grief alone .

It is the stars ,
The stars above us , govern our conditions ;
Else one self mate and make could not beget 
Such different issues . You spoke not with her since ?

No .

Was this before the king return'd ?

No , since .

Well , sir , the poor distress'd Lear's i' the town ,
Who sometime , in his better tune , remembers 
What we are come about , and by no means 
Will yield to see his daughter .

Why , good sir ?

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 .

Alack ! poor gentleman .

Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not ?

'Tis so , they are afoot .

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 .


Alack ! 'tis he : why , he was met even now 
As mad as the vex'd sea ; singing aloud ;
Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds ,
With burdocks , hemlock , nettles , cuckoo-flowers ,
Darnel , and all the idle weeds that grow 
In our sustaining corn . A century send forth ;
Search every acre in the high-grown field ,
And bring him to our eye .

What can man's wisdom 
In the restoring his bereaved sense ?
He that helps him take all my outward worth .

There is means , madam ;
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose ,
The which he lacks ; that to provoke in him ,
Are many simples operative , whose power 
Will close the eye of anguish .

All bless'd secrets ,
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth ,
Spring with my tears ! be aidant and remediate 
In the good man's distress ! Seek , seek for him ,
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life 
That wants the means to lead it .


News , madam ;
The British powers are marching hitherward .

'Tis known before ; our preparation stands 
In expectation of them . O dear father !
It is thy business that I go about ;
Therefore great France 
My mourning and important tears hath pitied ,
No blown ambition doth our arms incite ,
But love , dear love , and our ag'd father's right ,
Soon may I hear and see him !


But are my brother's powers set forth ?

Ay , madam .

Himself in person there ?

Madam , with much ado :
Your sister is the better soldier .

Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home ?

No , madam .

What might import my sister's letter to him ?

I know not , lady .

Faith , he is posted hence on serious matter .
It was great ignorance , Gloucester's eyes being out ,
To let him live ; where he arrives he moves 
All hearts against us . Edmund , I think , is gone ,
In pity of his misery , to dispatch 
His nighted life ; moreover , to descry 
The strength o' the enemy .

I must needs after him , madam , with my letter .

Our troops set forth to-morrow ; stay with us ,
The ways are dangerous .

I may not , madam ;
My lady charg'd my duty in this business .

Why should she write to Edmund ? Might not you 
Transport her purposes by word ? Belike ,
Something I know not what . I'll love thee much ,
Let me unseal the letter .

Madam , I had rather 

I know your lady does not love her husband ;
I am sure of that : and at her late being here 
She gave strange ceilliades and most speaking looks 
To noble Edmund . I know you are of her bosom .

I , madam !

I speak in understanding ; you are , I know't :
Therefore I do advise you , take this note :
My lord is dead ; Edmund and I have talk'd ,
And more convenient is he for my hand 
Than for your lady's . You may gather more .
If you do find him , pray you , give him this ,
And when your mistress hears thus much from you ,
I pray desire her call her wisdom to her :
So , fare you well .
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor ,
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off .

Would I could meet him , madam : I would show 
What party I do follow .

Fare thee well .


When shall I come to the top of that same hill ?

You do climb up it now ; look how we labour .

Methinks the ground is even .

Horrible steep :
Hark ! do you hear the sea ?

No , truly .

Why , then you other senses grow imperfect 
By your eyes' anguish .

So may it be , indeed .
Methinks thy voice is alter'd , and thou speak'st 
In better phrase and matter than thou didst .

Y'are much deceiv'd ; in nothing am I chang'd 
But in my garments .

Methinks you're better spoken .

Come on , sir ; here's the place : stand still .
How fearful 
And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low !
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air 
Show scarce so gross as beetles ; half way down 
Hangs one that gathers samphire , dreadful trade !
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head .
The fishermen that walk upon the beach 
Appear like mice , and yond tall anchoring bark 
Diminish'd to her cock , her cock a buoy 
Almost too small for sight . The murmuring surge ,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes ,
Cannot be heard so high . I'll look no more ,
Lest my brain turn , and the deficient sight 
Topple down headlong .

Set me where you stand .

Give me your hand ; you are now within a foot 
Of the extreme verge : for all beneath the moon 
Would I not leap upright .

Let go my hand .
Here , friend , 's another purse ; in it a jewel 
Well worth a poor man's taking : fairies and gods 
Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off ;
Bid me farewell , and let me hear thee going .

Now fare you well , good sir .


With all my heart .

Why I do trifle thus with his despair 
Is done to cure it .

O you mighty gods !
This world I do renounce , and , in your sights ,
Shake patiently my great affliction off ;
If I could bear it longer , and not fall 
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills ,
My snuff and loathed part of nature should 
Burn itself out . If Edgar live , O , bless him !
Now , fellow , fare thee well .


Gone , sir : farewell .


And yet I know not how conceit may rob 
The treasury of life when life itself 
Yields to the theft ; had he been where he thought 
By this had thought been past . Alive or dead ?


Ho , you sir ! friend ! Hear you , sir ? speak !
Thus might he pass indeed ; yet he revives .
What are you , sir ?

Away and let me die .

Hadst thou been aught but gossamer , feathers , air ,
So many fathom down precipitating ,
Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg ; but thou dost breathe ,
Hast heavy substance , bleed'st not , speak'st , art sound .
Ten masts at each make not the altitude 
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell :
Thy life's a miracle . Speak yet again .

But have I fallen or no ?

From the dread summit of this chalky bourn .
Look up a-height ; the shrill-gorg'd lark so far 
Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up .

Alack ! I have no eyes .
Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit 
To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort ,
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage ,
And frustrate his proud will .

Give me your arm :
Up : so . How is 't ? Feel you your legs ? You stand .

Too well , too well .

This is above all strangeness .
Upon the crown o' the cliff , what thing was that 
Which parted from you ?

A poor unfortunate beggar .

As I stood here below methought his eyes 
Were two full moons ; he had a thousand noses ,
Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea :
It was some fiend ; therefore , thou happy father ,
Think that the clearest gods , who make them honours 
Of men's impossibilities , have preserv'd thee .

I do remember now ; henceforth I'll bear 
Affliction till it do cry out itself 
'Enough , enough ,' and die . That thing you speak of 
I took it for a man ; often 'twould say 
'The fiend , the fiend :' he led me to that place .

Bear free and patient thoughts . But who comes here ?


The safer sense will ne'er accommodate 

His master thus .

No , they cannot touch me for coining ;
I am the king himself .

O thou side-piercing sight !

Nature's above art in that respect . There's your press-money . That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper : draw me a clothier's yard . Look , look ! a mouse . Peace , peace ! this piece of toasted cheese will do 't . There's my gauntlet ; I'll prove it on a giant . Bring up the brown bills . O ! well flown , bird ; i' the clout , i' the clout : hewgh ! Give the word .

Sweet marjoram .

Pass .

I know that voice .

Ha ! Goneril , with a white beard ! They flatter'd me like a dog , and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there . To say 'ay' and 'no' to everything I said ! 'Ay' and 'no' too was no good divinity . When the rain came to wet me once and the wind to make me chatter , when the thunder would not peace at my bidding , there I found 'em , there I smelt 'em out . Go to , they are not men o' their words : they told me I was every thing ; 'tis a lie , I am not ague-proof .

The trick of that voice I do well remember :
Is 't not the king ?

Ay , every inch a king :
When I do stare , see how the subject quakes .
I pardon that man's life . What was thy cause ?
Adultery ?
Thou shalt not die : die for adultery ! No :
The wren goes to 't , and the small gilded fly 
Does lecher in my sight .
Let copulation thrive ; for Gloucester's bastard son 
Was kinder to his father than my daughters 
Got 'tween the lawful sheets .
To 't luxury , pell-mell ! for I lack soldiers .
Behold yond simpering dame ,
Whose face between her forks presageth snow ;
That minces virtue , and does shake the head 
To hear of pleasure's name ;
The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to 't 
With a more riotous appetite .
Down from the waist they are Centaurs ,
Though women all above :
But to the girdle do the gods inherit ,
Beneath is all the fiends' :
There's hell , there's darkness , there is the sulphurous pit ,
Burning , scalding , stench , consumption ; fie , fie , fie ! pah , pah ! Give me an ounce of civet , good apothecary , to sweeten my imagination : there's money for thee .

O ! let me kiss that hand !

Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality .

O ruin'd piece of nature ! This great world 
Shall so wear out to nought . Dost thou know me ?

I remember thine eyes well enough .
Dost thou squiny at me ? No , do thy worst , blind Cupid ; I'll not love . Read thou this challenge ; mark but the penning of it .

Were all the letters suns , I could not see .

I would not take this from report ; it is ,
And my heart breaks at it .

Read .

What ! with the case of eyes ?

O , ho ! are you there with me ? No eyes in your head , nor no money in your purse ? Your eyes are in a heavy case , your purse in a light : yet you see how this world goes .

I see it feelingly .

What ! art mad ? A man may see how this world goes with no eyes . Look with thine ears : see how yound justice rails upon yon simple thief . Hark , in thine ear : change places ; and , handy-dandy , which is the justice , which is the thief ? Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar ?

Ay , sir .

And the creature run from the cur ? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority ; a dog's obey'd in office .
Thou rascal beadle , hold thy bloody hand !
Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine own back ;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind 
For which thou whipp'st her . The usurer hangs the cozener .
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all . Plate sin with gold ,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ;
Arm it in rags , a pigmy's straw doth pierce it .
None does offend , none , I say none ; I'll able 'em :
Take that of me , my friend , who have the power 
To seal the accuser's lips . Get thee glass eyes ;
And , like a scurvy politician , seem 
To see the things thou dost not . Now , now , now , now ;
Pull off my boots ; harder , harder ; so .

O ! matter and impertinency mix'd ;
Reason in madness !

If thou wilt weep my fortunes , take my eyes ;
I know thee well enough ; thy name is Gloucester :
Thou must be patient ; we came crying hither :
Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air 
We waul and cry . I will preach to thee : mark .

Alack ! alack the day !

When we are born , we cry that we are come 
To this great stage of fools . This' a good block !
It were a delicate stratagem to shoe 
A troop of horse with felt ; I'll put it in proof ,
And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law ,
Then , kill , kill , kill , kill , kill , kill !


O ! here he is ; lay hand upon him . Sir ,
Your most dear daughter 

No rescue ? What ! a prisoner ? I am even 
The natural fool of fortune . Use me well ;
You shall have ransom . Let me have surgeons ;
I am cut to the brains .

You shall have any thing .

No seconds ? All myself ?
Why this would make a man a man of salt ,
To use his eyes for garden water-pots ,
Ay , and laying autumn's dust .

Good sir ,

I will die bravely as a bridegroom . What !
I will be jovial : come , come ; I am a king ,
My masters , know you that ?

You are a royal one , and we obey you .

Then there's life in it . Nay , an you get it , you shall get it by running . Sa , sa , sa , sa 


A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ,
Past speaking of in a king ! Thou hast one daughter ,
Who redeems nature from the general curse 
Which twain have brought her to .

Hail , gentle sir !

Sir , speed you : what's your will ?

Do you hear aught , sir , of a battle toward ?

Most sure and vulgar ; every one hears that ,
Which can distinguish sound .

But , by your favour ,
How near's the other army ?

Near , and on speedy foot ; the main descry 
Stands on the hourly thought .

I thank you , sir : that's all 

Though that the queen on special cause is here ,
Her army is mov'd on .

I thank you , sir .


You ever-gentle gods , take my breath from me :
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again 
To die before you please !

Well pray you , father .

Now , good sir , what are you ?

A most poor man , made tame to fortune's blows ;
Who , by the art of known and feeling sorrows ,
Am pregnant to good pity . Give me your hand ,
I'll lead you to some biding .

Hearty thanks :
The bounty and the benison of heaven 
To boot , and boot !


A proclaim'd prize ! Most happy !
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh 
To raise my fortunes . Thou old unhappy traitor ,
Briefly thyself remember : the sword in out 
That must destroy thee .

Now let thy friendly hand 
Put strength enough to 't .


Wherefore , bold peasant ,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor ? Hence ;
Lest that infection of his fortune take 
Like hold on thee . Let go his arm .

Chill not let go , zur , without vurther 'casion .

Let go , slave , or thou diest .

Good gentleman , go your gait , and let poor volk pass . An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life , 'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight . Nay , come not near th' old man ; keep out , che vor ye , or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder . Chill be plain with you .

Out , dunghill !

Chill pick your teeth , zur . Come ; no matter vor your foins .


Slave , thou hast slain me . Villain , take my purse .
If ever thou wilt thrive , bury my body ;
And give the letters which thou find'st about me 
To Edmund Earl of Gloucester ; seek him out 
Upon the English party : O ! untimely death .


I know thee well : a serviceable villain ;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress 
As badness would desire .

What ! is he dead ?

Sit you down , father ; rest you .
Let's see his pockets : these letters that he speaks of 
May be my friends . He's dead ; I am only sorry 
He had no other deaths-man . Let us see :
Leave , gentle wax ; and , manners , blame us not :
To know our enemies' minds , we'd rip their hearts ;
Their papers , is more lawful .
Let our reciprocal vows be remembered . You have many opportunities to cut him off ; if your will want not , time and place will be fruitfully offered . There is nothing done if he return the conqueror ; then am I the prisoner , and his bed my gaol ; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me , and supply the place for your labour .
Your wife , so I would say 
Affectionate servant ,
O undistinguish'd space of woman's will !
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ,
And the exchange my brother ! Here , in the sands ,
Thee I'll rake up , the post unsanctified 
Of murderous lechers ; and in the mature time 
With this ungracious paper strike the sight 
Of the death-practis'd duke . For him 'tis well 
That of thy death and business I can tell .

The king is mad : how stiff is my vile sense ,
That I stand up , and have ingenious feeling 
Of my huge sorrows ! Better I were distract :
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs ,
And woes by wrong imaginations lose 
The knowledge of themselves .


Give me your hand :
Far off , methinks , I hear the beaten drum .
Come , father , I'll bestow you with a friend .


O thou good Kent ! how shall I live and work 
To match thy goodness ? My life will be too short ,
And every measure fail me .

To be acknowledg'd , madam , is o'erpaid .
All my reports go with the modest truth ,
Nor more nor clipp'd , but so .

Be better suited :
These weeds are memories of those worser hours :
I prithee , put them off .

Pardon me , dear madam ;
Yet to be known shortens my made intent :
My boon I make it that you know me not 
Till time and I think meet .

Then be 't so , my good lord .

How does the king ?

Madam , sleeps still .

O you kind gods ,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature !
The untun'd and jarring senses , O ! wind up 
Of this child-changed father !

So please your majesty 
That we may wake the king ? he hath slept long .

Be govern'd by your knowledge , and proceed 
I' the sway of your own will . Is he array'd ?


Ay , madam ; in the heaviness of sleep ,
We put fresh garments on him .

Be by , good madam , when we do awake him ;
I doubt not of his temperance .

Very well .


Please you , draw near . Louder the music there .

O my dear father ! Restoration , hang 
Thy medicine on my lips , and let this kiss 
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters 
Have in thy reverence made !

Kind and dear princess !

Had you not been their father , these white flakes 
Had challeng'd pity of them . Was this a face 
To be expos'd against the warring winds ?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder ?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
Of quick cross lightning ? to watch poor perdu !
With this thin helm ? Mine enemy's dog ,
Though he had bit me , should have stood that night 
Against my fire . And wast thou fain , poor father ,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn ,
In short and musty straw ? Alack , alack !
'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once 
Had not concluded all . He wakes ; speak to him .

Madam , do you ; 'tis fittest .

How does my royal lord ? How fares your majesty ?

You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave ;
Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound 
Upon a wheel of fire , that mine own tears 
Do scald like molten lead .

Sir , do you know me ?

You are a spirit , I know ; when did you die ?

Still , still , far wide .

He's scarce awake ; let him alone awhile .

Where have I been ? Where am I ? Fair day-light ?
I am mightily abus'd . I should even die with pity 
To see another thus . I know not what to say .
I will not swear these are my hands : let's see ;
I feel this pin prick . Would I were assur'd 
Of my condition !

O ! look upon me , sir ,
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me .
No , sir , you must not kneel .

Pray , do not mock me :
I am a very foolish fond old man ,
Fourscore and upward , not an hour more or less ;
And , to deal plainly ,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind .
Methinks I should know you and know this man ;
Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant 
What place this is , and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not 
Where I did lodge last night . Do not laugh at me ;
For , as I am a man , I think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia .

And so I am , I am .

Be your tears wet ? Yes , faith . I pray , weep not :
If you have poison for me , I will drink it .
I know you do not love me ; for your sisters 
Have , as I do remember , done me wrong :
You have some cause , they have not .

No cause , no cause .

Am I in France ?

In your own kingdom , sir .

Do not abuse me .

Be comforted , good madam ; the great rage ,
You see , is kill'd in him ; and yet it is danger 
To make him even o'er the time he has lost .
Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more 
Till further settling .

Will 't please your highness walk ?

You must bear with me .
Pray you now , forget and forgive : I am old and foolish .


Holds it true , sir , that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain ?

Most certain , sir .

Who is conductor of his people ?

As 'tis said , the bastard son of Gloucester .

They say Edgar , his banished son , is with the Earl of Kent in Germany .

Report is changeable . 'Tis time to look about ; the powers of the kingdom approach apace .

The arbitrement is like to be bloody .
Fare you well , sir .


My point and period will be throughly wrought ,
Or well or ill , as this day's battle's fought .

Know of the duke if his last purpose hold ,
Or whether since he is advis'd by aught 
To change the course ; he's full of alteration 
And self-reproving ; bring his constant pleasure .


Our sister's man is certainly miscarried .

'Tis to be doubted , madam .

Now , sweet lord ,
You know the goodness I intend upon you :
Tell me , but truly , but then speak the truth ,
Do you not love my sister ?

In honour'd love .

But have you never found my brother's way 
To the forefended place ?

That thought abuses you .

I am doubtful that you have been conjunct 
And bosom'd with her , as far as we call hers .

No , by mine honour , madam .

I never shall endure her : dear my lord ,
Be not familiar with her .

Fear me not .
She and the duke her husband !


I had rather lose the battle than that sister 
Should loosen him and me .

Our very loving sister , well be-met .
Sir , this I heard , the king is come to his daughter ,
With others ; whom the rigour of our state 
Forc'd to cry out . Where I could not be honest 
I never yet was valiant : for this business ,
It toucheth us , as France invades our land ,
Not bolds the king , with others , whom , I fear ,
Most just and heavy causes make oppose .

Sir , you speak nobly .

Why is this reason'd ?

Combine together 'gainst the enemy ;
For these domestic and particular broils 
Are not the question here .

Let's then determine 
With the ancient of war on our proceeding .

I shall attend you presently at your tent .

Sister , you'll go with us ?

No .

'Tis most convenient ; pray you , go with us .

O , ho ! I know the riddle . [Aloud .] I will go .


If e'er your Grace had speech with man so poor ,
Hear me one word .

I'll overtake you . Speak .


Before you fight the battle , ope this letter .
If you have victory , let the trumpet sound 
For him that brought it : wretched though I seem ,
I can produce a champion that will prove 
What is avouched there . If you miscarry ,
Your business of the world hath so an end ,
And machination ceases . Fortune love you !

Stay till I have read the letter .

I was forbid it .
When time shall serve , let but the herald cry ,
And I'll appear again .

Why , fare thee well : I will o'erlook thy paper .

The enemy's in view ; draw up your powers .
Here is the guess of their true strength and forces 
By diligent discovery ; but your haste 
Is now urg'd on you .

We will greet the time .


To both these sisters have I sworn my love ;
Each jealous of the other , as the stung 
Are of the adder . Which of them shall I take ?
Both ? one ? or neither ? Neither can be enjoy'd 
If both remain alive : to take the widow 
Exasperates , makes mad her sister Goneril ;
And hardly shall I carry out my side ,
Her husband being alive . Now then , we'll use 
His countenance for the battle ; which being done 
Let her who would be rid of him devise 
His speedy taking off . As for the mercy 
Which he intends to Lear , and to Cordelia ,
The battle done , and they within our power ,
Shall never see his pardon ; for my state 
Stands on me to defend , not to debate .

Here , father , take the shadow of this tree 
For your good host ; pray that the right may thrive .
If ever I return to you again ,
I'll bring you comfort .

Grace go with you , sir !

Away , old man ! give me thy hand : away !
King Lear hath lost , he and his daughter ta'en .
Give me thy hand ; come on .

No further , sir ; a man may rot even here .

What ! in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure 
Their going hence , even as their coming hither :
Ripeness is all . Come on .

And that's true too .

Some officers take them away : good guard ,
Until their greater pleasures first be known 
That are to censure them .

We are not the first 
Who , with best meaning , have incurr'd the worst .
For thee , oppressed king , am I cast down ;
Myself could else out-frown false Fortune's frown .
Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters ?

No , no , no , no ! Come , let's away to prison ;
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage :
When thou dost ask me blessing , I'll kneel down ,
And ask of thee forgiveness : so we'll live ,
And pray , and sing , and tell old tales , and laugh 
At gilded butterflies , and hear poor rogues 
Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too ,
Who loses and who wins ; who's in , who's out ;
And take upon's the mystery of things ,
As if we were God's spies : and we'll wear out ,
In a wall'd prison , packs and sets of great ones 
That ebb and flow by the moon .

Take them away .

Upon such sacrifices , my Cordelia ,
The gods themselves throw incense . Have I caught thee ?
He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven ,
And fire us hence like foxes . Wipe thine eyes ;
The goujeres shall devour them , flesh and fell ,
Ere they shall make us weep : we'll see 'em starve first .
Come .


Come hither , captain ; hark ,
Take thou this note ;

go follow them to prison :
One step I have advanc'd thee ; if thou dost 
As this instructs thee , thou dost make thy way 
To noble fortunes ; know thou this , that men 
Are as the time is ; to be tender-minded 
Does not become a sword ; thy great employment 
Will not bear question ; either say thou'lt do't ,
Or thrive by other means .

I'll do't , my lord .

About it ; and write happy when thou hast done .
Mark ,I say , instantly , and carry it so 
As I have set it down .

I cannot draw a cart nor eat dried oats ;
If it be man's work I will do it .

Sir , you have show'd to-day your valiant strain ,
And fortune led you well ; you have the captives 
Who were the opposites of this day's strife ;
We do require them of you , so to use them 
As we shall find their merits and our safety 
May equally determine .

Sir , I thought it fit 
To send the old and miserable king 
To some retention , and appointed guard ;
Whose age has charms in it , whose title more ,
To pluck the common bosom on his side ,
And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes 
Which do command them . With him I sent the queen ;
My reason all the same ; and they are ready 
To-morrow , or at further space , to appear 
Where you shall hold your session . At this time 
We sweat and bleed ; the friend hath lost his friend ,
And the best quarrels , in the heat , are curs'd 
By those that feel their sharpness ;
The question of Cordelia and her father 
Requires a fitter place .

Sir , by your patience ,
I hold you but a subject of this war ,
Not as a brother .

That's as we list to grace him :
Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded ,
Ere you had spoke so far . He led our powers ,
Bore the commission of my place and person ;
The which immediacy may well stand up ,
And call itself your brother .

Not so hot ;
In his own grace he doth exalt himself 
More than in your addition .

In my rights ,
By me invested , he compeers the best .

That were the most , if he should husband you .

Jesters do oft prove prophets .

Holla , holla !
That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint .

Lady , I am not well ; else I should answer 
From a full-flowing stomach . General ,
Take thou my soldiers , prisoners , patrimony ;
Dispose of them , of me ; the walls are thine ;
Witness the world , that I create thee here 
My lord and master .

Mean you to enjoy him ?

The let-alone lies not in your good will .

Nor in thine , lord .

Half-blooded fellow , yes .

Let the drum strike , and prove my title thine .

Stay yet ; hear reason . Edmund , I arrest thee 
On capital treason ; and , in thy arrest ,
This gilded serpent .

For your claim , fair sister ,
I bar it in the interest of my wife ;
'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord ,
And I , her husband , contradict your bans .
If you will marry , make your love to me ,
My lady is bespoke .

An interlude !

Thou art arm'd , Gloucester ; let the trumpet sound :
If none appear to prove upon thy person 
Thy heinous , manifest , and many treasons ,
There is my pledge ;

I'll prove it on thy heart ,
Ere I taste bread , thou art in nothing less 
Than I have here proclaim'd thee .

Sick ! O sick !

If not , I'll ne'er trust medicine .

There's my exchange :

what in the world he is 
That names me traitor , villain-like be lies .
Call by thy trumpet : he that dares approach ,
On him , on you , who not ? I will maintain 
My truth and honour firmly .

A herald , ho !

A herald , ho ! a herald !

Trust to thy single virtue ; for thy soldiers ,
All levied in my name , have in my name 
Took their discharge .

My sickness grows upon me .

She is not well ; convey her to my tent .

Come hither , herald ,


Let the trumpet sound ,

And read out this .

Sound , trumpet !


If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund , supposed Earl of Gloucester , that he is a manifold traitor , let him appear at the third sound of the trumpet . He is bold in his defence .

Sound !


Again !


Again !


Ask him his purposes , why he appears 
Upon this call o' the trumpet .

What are you ?
Your name ? your quality ? and why you answer 
This present summons ?

Know , my name is lost ;
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit :
Yet am I noble as the adversary 
I come to cope .

Which is that adversary ?

What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester ?

Himself : what sayst thou to him ?

Draw thy sword ,
That , if my speech offend a noble heart ,
Thy arm may do thee justice ; here is mine :
Behold , it is the privilege of mine honours ,
My oath , and my profession : I protest ,
Maugre thy strength , youth , place , and eminence ,
Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune ,
Thy valour and thy heart , thou art a traitor ,
False to thy gods , thy brother , and thy father ,
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince ,
And , from the extremest upward of thy head 
To the descent and dust below thy foot ,
A most toad-spotted traitor . Say thou 'No ,' 
This sword , this arm , and my best spirits are bent 
To prove upon thy heart , whereto I speak ,
Thou liest .

In wisdom I should ask thy name ;
But since thy outside looks so fair and war-like ,
And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes ,
What safe and nicely I might well delay 
By rule of knighthood , I disdain and spurn ;
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head ,
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart ,
Which , for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise ,
This sword of mine shall give them instant way ,
Where they shall rest for ever . Trumpets , speak !


Save him , save him !

This is practice , Gloucester :
By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer 
An unknown opposite ; thou art not vanquish'd ,
But cozen'd and beguil'd .

Shut your mouth , dame ,
Or with this paper shall I stop it . Hold , sir ;
Thou worse than any name , read thine own evil :
No tearing , lady ; I perceive you know it .


Say , if I do , the laws are mine , not thine :
Who can arraign me for 't ?


Most monstrous !
Know'st thou this paper ?

Ask me not what I know .

Go after her : she's desperate ; govern her .


What you have charg'd me with , that have I done ,
And more , much more ; the time will bring it out :
'Tis past , and so am I . But what art thou 
That hast this fortune on me ? If thou'rt noble ,
I do forgive thee .

Let's exchange charity .
I am no less in blood than thou art , Edmund ;
If more , the more thou hast wrong'd me .
My name is Edgar , and thy father's son .
The gods are just , and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to plague us :
The dark and vicious place where thee he got 
Cost him his eyes .

Thou hast spoken right , 'tis true ;
The wheel is come full circle ; I am here .

Methought thy very gait did prophesy 
A royal nobleness : I must embrace thee :
Let sorrow split my heart , if ever I 
Did hate thee or thy father .

Worthy prince , I know 't .

Where have you hid yourself ?
How have you known the miseries of your father ?

By nursing them , my lord . List a brief tale ;
And , when 'tis told , O ! that my heart would burst ,
The bloody proclamation to escape 
That follow'd me so near ,O ! our lives' sweetness ,
That we the pain of death would hourly die 
Rather than die at once !taught me to shift 
Into a madman's rags , to assume a semblance 
That very dogs disdain'd : and in this habit 
Met I my father with his bleeding rings ,
Their precious stones new lost ; became his guide ,
Led him , begg'd for him , sav'd him from despair ;
Never ,O fault !reveal'd myself unto him ,
Until some half hour past , when I was arm'd ;
Not sure , though hoping , of this good success ,
I ask'd his blessing , and from first to last 
Told him my pilgrimage : but his flaw'd heart ,
Alack ! too weak the conflict to support ;
'Twixt two extremes of passion , joy and grief ,
Burst smilingly .

This speech of yours hath mov'd me ,
And shall perchance do good ; but speak you on ;
You look as you had something more to say .

If there be more , more woeful , hold it in ;
For I am almost ready to dissolve ,
Hearing of this .

This would have seem'd a period 
To such as love not sorrow ; but another ,
To amplify too much , would make much more ,
And top extremity .
Whilst I was big in clamour came there a man ,
Who , having seen me in my worst estate ,
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then , finding 
Who 'twas that so endur'd , with his strong arms 
He fasten'd on my neck , and bellow'd out 
As he'd burst heaven ; threw him on my father ;
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him 
That ever ear receiv'd ; which in recounting 
His grief grew puissant , and the strings of life 
Began to crack : twice then the trumpet sounded ,
And there I left him tranc'd .

But who was this ?

Kent , sir , the banish'd Kent ; who in disguise 
Follow'd his enemy king , and did him service 
Improper for a slave .


Help , help ! O help !

What kind of help ?

Speak , man .

What means that bloody knife ?

'Tis hot , it smokes ;
It came even from the heart of O ! she's dead .

Who dead ? speak , man .

Your lady , sir , your lady : and her sister 
By her is poison'd ; she confesses it .

I was contracted to them both : all three 
Now marry in an instant .

Here comes Kent .

Produce the bodies , be they alive or dead :
This judgment of the heavens , that makes us tremble ,
Touches us not with pity .

O ! is this he ?
The time will not allow the compliment 

Which very manners urges .

I am come 
To bid my king and master aye good-night ;
Is he not here ?

Great thing of us forgot !
Speak , Edmund , where's the king ? and where's Cordelia ?
Seest thou this object , Kent ?


Alack ! why thus ?

Yet Edmund was belov'd :
The one the other poison'd for my sake ,
And after slew herself .

Even so . Cover their faces .

I pant for life : some good I mean to do 
Despite of mine own nature . Quickly send ,
Be brief in it , to the castle ; for my writ 
Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia .
Nay , send in time .

Run , run ! O run !

To whom , my lord ? Who has the office ? send 
Thy token of reprieve .

Well thought on : take my sword ,
Give it the captain .

Haste thee , for thy life .


He hath commission from my wife and me 
To hang Cordelia in the prison , and 
To lay the blame upon her own despair ,
That she fordid herself .

The gods defend her ! Bear him hence awhile .

Howl , howl , howl , howl ! O ! you are men of stones :
Had I your tongues and eyes , I'd use them so 
That heaven's vaults should crack . She's gone for ever .
I know when one is dead , and when one lives ;
She's dead as earth . Lend me a looking-glass ;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone ,
Why , then she lives .

Is this the promis'd end ?

Or image of that horror ?

Fall and cease ?

This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so ,
It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt .

O , my good master !

Prithee , away .

'Tis noble Kent , your friend .

A plague upon you , murderers , traitors all !
I might have sav'd her ; now , she's gone for ever !
Cordelia , Cordelia ! stay a little . Ha !
What is 't thou sayst ? Her voice was ever soft ,
Gentle and low , an excellent thing in woman .
I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee .

'Tis true , my lord , he did .

Did I not , fellow ?
I have seen the day , with my good biting falchion 
I would have made them skip : I am old now ,
And these same crosses spoil me . Who are you ?
Mine eyes are not o' the best : I'll tell you straight .

If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated ,
One of them we behold .

This is a dull sight . Are you not Kent ?

The same ,
Your servant Kent . Where is your servant Caius ?

He's a good fellow , I can tell you that ;
He'll strike , and quickly too . He's dead and rotten .

No , my good lord ; I am the very man 

I'll see that straight .

That , from your first of difference and decay ,
Have follow'd your sad steps .

You are welcome hither .

Nor no man else ; all's cheerless , dark , and deadly :
Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves ,
And desperately are dead .

Ay , so I think .

He knows not what he says , and vain it is 
That we present us to him .

Very bootless .


Edmund is dead , my lord .

That's but a trifle here .
You lords and noble friends , know our intent ;
What comfort to this great decay may come 
Shall be applied : for us , we will resign ,
During the life of this old majesty ,
To him our absolute power :

You , to your rights ;
With boot and such addition as your honours 
Have more than merited . All friends shall taste 
The wages of their virtue , and all foes 
The cup of their deservings . O ! see , see !

And my poor fool is hang'd ! No , no , no life !
Why should a dog , a horse , a rat , have life ,
And thou no breath at all ? Thou'lt come no more ,
Never , never , never , never , never !
Pray you , undo this button : thank you , sir .
Do you see this ? Look on her , look , her lips ,
Look there , look there !


He faints !my lord , my lord !

Break , heart ; I prithee , break .

Look up , my lord .

Vex not his ghost : O ! let him pass ; he hates him 
That would upon the rack of this tough world 
Stretch him out longer .

He is gone , indeed .

The wonder is he hath endur'd so long :
He but usurp'd his life .

Bear them from hence . Our present business 
Is general woe .

Friends of my soul , you twain 
Rule in this realm , and the gor'd state sustain .

I have a journey , sir , shortly to go ;
My master calls me , I must not say no .

The weight of this sad time we must obey ;
Speak what we feel , not what we ought to say .
The oldest hath borne most : we that are young ,
Shall never see so much , nor live so long .

MACBETH

When shall we three meet again 
In thunder , lightning , or in rain ?

When the hurlyburly's done ,
When the battle's lost and won .

That will be ere the set of sun .

Where the place ?

Upon the heath .

There to meet with Macbeth .

I come , Graymalkin !

Paddock calls .

Anon .

Fair is foul , and foul is fair :
Hover through the fog and filthy air .

What bloody man is that ? He can report ,
As seemeth by his plight , of the revolt 
The newest state .

This is the sergeant 
Who , like a good and hardy soldier fought 
'Gainst my captivity . Hail , brave friend !
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil 
As thou didst leave it .

Doubtful it stood ;
As two spent swimmers , that do cling together 
And choke their art . The merciless Macdonwald 
Worthy to be a rebel , for to that 
The multiplying villanies of nature 
Do swarm upon him from the western isles 
Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied ;
And fortune , on his damned quarrel smiling ,
Show'd like a rebel's whore : but all's too weak ;
For brave Macbeth ,well he deserves that name ,
Disdaining fortune , with his brandish'd steel ,
Which smok'd with bloody execution ,
Like valour's minion carv'd out his passage 
Till he fac'd the slave ;
Which ne'er shook hands , nor bade farewell to him ,
Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps ,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements .

O valiant cousin ! worthy gentleman !

As whence the sun 'gins his reflection 
Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break ,
So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come 
Discomfort swells . Mark , King of Scotland , mark :
No sooner justice had with valour arm'd 
Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels ,
But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage ,
With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men 
Began a fresh assault .

Dismay'd not this 
Our captains , Macbeth and Banquo ?

Yes ;
As sparrows eagles , or the hare the lion .
If I say sooth , I must report they were 
As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks ;
So they 
Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe :
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds ,
Or memorize another Golgotha ,
I cannot tell 
But I am faint , my gashes cry for help .

So well thy words become thee as thy wounds ;
They smack of honour both . Go , get him surgeons .


Who comes here ?

The worthy Thane of Ross .

What a haste looks through his eyes ! So should he look 
That seems to speak things strange .

God save the king !

Whence cam'st thou , worthy thane ?

From Fife , great king ;
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky 
And fan our people cold . Norway himself ,
With terrible numbers ,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor ,
The Thane of Cawdor , began a dismal conflict ;
Till that Bellona's bridegroom , lapp'd in proof ,
Confronted him with self-comparisons ,
Point against point , rebellious arm 'gainst arm ,
Curbing his lavish spirit : and , to conclude ,
The victory fell on us .

Great happiness !

That now 
Sweno , the Norways' king , craves composition ;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men 
Till he disbursed , at Saint Colme's Inch ,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use .

No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive 
Our bosom interest . Go pronounce his present death ,
And with his former title greet Macbeth .

I'll see it done .

What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won .


Where hast thou been , sister ?

Killing swine .

Sister , where thou ?

A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap ,
And munch'd , and munch'd , and munch'd : 'Give me ,' quoth I :
'Aroint thee , witch !' the rump-fed ronyon cries .
Her husband's to Aleppo gone , master o' the Tiger :
But in a sieve I'll thither sail ,
And , like a rat without a tail ,
I'll do , I'll do , and I'll do .

I'll give thee a wind .

Thou'rt kind .

And I another .

I myself have all the other ;
And the very ports they blow ,
All the quarters that they know 
I' the shipman's card .
I'll drain him dry as hay :
Sleep shall neither night nor day 
Hang upon his pent-house lid ;
He shall live a man forbid .
Weary se'nnights nine times nine 
Shall he dwindle , peak and pine :
Though his bark cannot be lost ,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost .
Look what I have .

Show me , show me .

Here I have a pilot's thumb ,
Wrack'd as homeward he did come .


A drum ! a drum !
Macbeth doth come .

The weird sisters , hand in hand ,
Posters of the sea and land ,
Thus do go about , about :
Thrice to thine , and thrice to mine ,
And thrice again , to make up nine .
Peace ! the charm's wound up .


So foul and fair a day I have not seen .

How far is 't call'd to Forres ? What are these ,
So wither'd and so wild in their attire ,
That look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth ,
And yet are on 't ? Live you ? or are you aught 
That man may question ? You seem to understand me ,
By each at once her choppy finger laying 
Upon her skinny lips : you should be women ,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
That you are so .

Speak , if you can : what are you ?

All hail , Macbeth ! hail to thee , Thane of Glamis !

All hail , Macbeth ! hail to thee , Thane of Cawdor !

All hail , Macbeth ! that shalt be king hereafter .

Good sir , why do you start , and seem to fear 
Things that do sound so fair ? I' the name of truth ,
Are ye fantastical , or that indeed 
Which outwardly ye show ? My noble partner 
You greet with present grace and great prediction 
Of noble having and of royal hope ,
That he seems rapt withal : to me you speak not .
If you can look into the seeds of time ,
And say which grain will grow and which will not ,
Speak then to me , who neither beg nor fear 
Your favours nor your hate .

Hail !

Hail !

Hail !

Lesser than Macbeth , and greater .

Not so happy , yet much happier .

Thou shalt get kings , though thou be none :
So , all hail , Macbeth and Banquo !

Banquo and Macbeth , all hail !

Stay , you imperfect speakers , tell me more :
By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis ;
But how of Cawdor ? the Thane of Cawdor lives ,
A prosperous gentleman ; and to be king 
Stands not within the prospect of belief 
No more than to be Cawdor . Say , from whence 
You owe this strange intelligence ? or why 
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way 
With such prophetic greeting ? Speak , I charge you .


The earth hath bubbles , as the water has ,
And these are of them . Whither are they vanish'd ?

Into the air , and what seem'd corporal melted 
As breath into the wind . Would they had stay'd !

Were such things here as we do speak about ?
Or have we eaten on the insane root 
That takes the reason prisoner ?

Your children shall be kings .

You shall be king .

And Thane of Cawdor too ; went it not so ?

To the self-same tune and words . Who's here ?


The king hath happily receiv'd , Macbeth ,
The news of thy success ; and when he reads 
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight ,
His wonders and his praises do contend 
Which should be thine or his . Silenc'd with that ,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day ,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks ,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make ,
Strange images of death . As thick as hail 
Came post with post , and every one did bear 
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence ,
And pour'd them down before him .

We are sent 
To give thee from our royal master thanks ;
Only to herald thee into his sight ,
Not pay thee .

And , for an earnest of a greater honour ,
He bade me , from him , call thee Thane of Cawdor :
In which addition , hail , most worthy thane !
For it is thine .

What ! can the devil speak true ?

The Thane of Cawdor lives : why do you dress me 
In borrow'd robes ?

Who was the thane lives yet ;
But under heavy judgment bears that life 
Which he deserves to lose . Whether he was combin'd 
With those of Norway , or did line the rebel 
With hidden help or vantage , or that with both 
He labour'd in his country's wrack , I know not ;
But treasons capital , confess'd and prov'd ,
Have overthrown him .

Glamis , and Thane of Cawdor :
The greatest is behind .

Thanks for your pains .


Do you not hope your children shall be kings ,
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me 
Promis'd no less to them ?

That , trusted home ,
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown ,
Besides the Thane of Cawdor . But 'tis strange :
And oftentimes , to win us to our harm ,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths ,
Win us with honest trifles , to betray's 
In deepest consequence .
Cousins , a word , I pray you .

Two truths are told ,
As happy prologues to the swelling act 
Of the imperial theme . I thank you , gentlemen .


This supernatural soliciting 
Cannot be ill , cannot be good ; if ill ,
Why hath it given me earnest of success ,
Commencing in a truth ? I am Thane of Cawdor :
If good , why do I yield to that suggestion 
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair 
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs ,
Against the use of nature ? Present fears 
Are less than horrible imaginings ;
My thought , whose murder yet is but fantastical ,
Shakes so my single state of man that function 
Is smother'd in surmise , and nothing is 
But what is not .

Look , how our partner's rapt .

If chance will have me king , why , chance may crown me ,
Without my stir .

New honours come upon him ,
Like our strange garments , cleave not to their mould 
But with the aid of use .

Come what come may ,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day .

Worthy Macbeth , we stay upon your leisure .

Give me your favour : my dull brain was wrought 
With things forgotten . Kind gentlemen , your pains 
Are register'd where every day I turn 
The leaf to read them . Let us toward the king .
Think upon what hath chanc'd ; and , at more time ,
The interim having weigh'd it , let us speak 
Our free hearts each to other .

Very gladly .

Till then , enough . Come , friends .


Is execution done on Cawdor ? Are not 
Those in commission yet return'd ?

My liege ,
They are not yet come back ; but I have spoke 
With one that saw him die ; who did report 
That very frankly he confess'd his treasons ,
Implor'd your highness' pardon and set forth 
A deep repentance . Nothing in his life 
Became him like the leaving it ; he died 
As one that had been studied in his death 
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd ,
As 'twere a careless trifle .

There's no art 
To find the mind's construction in the face :
He was a gentleman on whom I built 
An absolute trust .


O worthiest cousin !
The sin of my ingratitude even now 
Was heavy on me . Thou art so far before 
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow 
To overtake thee ; would thou hadst less deserv'd ,
That the proportion both of thanks and payment 
Might have been mine ! only I have left to say ,

More is thy due than more than all can pay .

The service and the loyalty I owe ,
In doing it , pays itself . Your highness' part 
Is to receive our duties : and our duties 
Are to your throne and state , children and servants ;
Which do but what they should , by doing everything 
Safe toward your love and honour .

Welcome hither :
I have begun to plant thee , and will labour 
To make thee full of growing . Noble Banquo ,
That hast no less deserv'd , nor must be known 
No less to have done so , let me infold thee 
And hold thee to my heart .

There if I grow ,
The harvest is your own .

My plenteous joys 
Wanton in fulness , seek to hide themselves 
In drops of sorrow . Sons , kinsmen , thanes ,
And you whose places are the nearest , know 
We will establish our estate upon 
Our eldest , Malcolm , whom we name hereafter 
The Prince of Cumberland ; which honour must 
Not unaccompanied invest him only ,
But signs of nobleness , like stars , shall shine 
On all deservers . From hence to Inverness ,
And bind us further to you .

The rest is labour , which is not us'd for you :
I'll be myself the harbinger , and make joyful 
The hearing of my wife with your approach ;
So , humbly take my leave .

My worthy Cawdor !

The Prince of Cumberland ! that is a step 
On which I must fall down , or else o'er-leap ,
For in my way it lies . Stars , hide your fires !
Let not light see my black and deep desires ;
The eye wink at the hand ; yet let that be 
Which the eye fears , when it is done , to see .


True , worthy Banquo ; he is full so valiant ,
And in his commendations I am fed ;
It is a banquet to me . Let's after him ,
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome :
It is a peerless kinsman .

They met me in the day of success ; and I have learned by the perfectest report , they have more in them than mortal knowledge . When I burned in desire to question them further , they made themselves air , into which they vanished . Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it , came missives from the king , who all-hailed me , 'Thane of Cawdor ;' by which title , before , these weird sisters saluted me , and referred me to the coming on of time , with , 'Hail , king that shall be !' This have I thought good to deliver thee , my dearest partner of greatness , that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing , by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee . Lay it to thy heart , and farewell .
Glamis thou art , and Cawdor ; and shalt be 
What thou art promis'd . Yet do I fear thy nature ;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness 
To catch the nearest way ; thou wouldst be great ,
Art not without ambition , but without 
The illness should attend it ; what thou wouldst highly ,
That thou wouldst holily ; wouldst not play false ,
And yet wouldst wrongly win ; thou'dst have , great Glamis ,
That which cries , 'Thus thou must do , if thou have it ;' 
And that which rather thou dost fear to do 
Than wishest should be undone . Hie thee hither ,
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear ,
And chastise with the valour of my tongue 
All that impedes thee from the golden round ,
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem 
To have thee crown'd withal .

What is your tidings ?

The king comes here to-night .

Thou'rt mad to say it .
Is not thy master with him ? who , were't so ,
Would have inform'd for preparation .

So please you , it is true : our thane is coming ;
One of my fellows had the speed of him ,
Who , almost dead for breath , had scarcely more 
Than would make up his message .

Give him tending ;
He brings great news .

The raven himself is hoarse 
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
Under my battlements . Come , you spirits 
That tend on mortal thoughts ! unsex me here ,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top full 
Of direst cruelty ; make thick my blood ,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse ,
That no compunctious visitings of nature 
Shake my fell purpose , nor keep peace between 
The effect and it ! Come to my woman's breasts ,
And take my milk for gall , you murdering ministers ,
Wherever in your sightless substances 
You wait on nature's mischief ! Come , thick night ,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark ,
To cry , 'Hold , hold !' 


Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor !
Greater than both , by the all-hail hereafter !
Thy letters have transported me beyond 
This ignorant present , and I feel now 

The future in the instant .

My dearest love ,
Duncan comes here to-night .

And when goes hence ?

To-morrow , as he purposes .

O ! never 
Shall sun that morrow see .
Your face , my thane , is as a book where men 
May read strange matters . To beguile the time ,
Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye ,
Your hand , your tongue : look like the innocent flower ,
But be the serpent under't . He that's coming 
Must be provided for ; and you shall put 
This night's great business into my dispatch ;
Which shall to all our nights and days to come 
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom .

We will speak further .

Only look up clear ;
To alter favour ever is to fear .
Leave all the rest to me .

This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air 
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
Unto our gentle senses .

This guest of summer ,
The temple-haunting martlet , does approve 
By his lov'd mansionry that the heaven's breath 
Smells wooingly here : no jutty , frieze ,
Buttress , nor coign of vantage , but this bird 
Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle :
Where they most breed and haunt , I have observ'd 
The air is delicate .


See , see , our honour'd hostess !
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble ,
Which still we thank as love . Herein I teach you 
How you shall bid God 'eyld us for your pains ,
And thank us for your trouble .

All our service ,
In every point twice done , and then done double ,
Were poor and single business , to contend 
Against those honours deep and broad wherewith 
Your majesty loads our house : for those of old ,
And the late dignities heap'd up to them ,
We rest your hermits .

Where's the Thane of Cawdor ?
We cours'd him at the heels , and had a purpose 
To be his purveyor ; but he rides well ,
And his great love , sharp as his spur , hath holp him 
To his home before us . Fair and noble hostess ,
We are your guest to-night .

Your servants ever 
Have theirs , themselves , and what is theirs , in compt ,
To make their audit at your highness' pleasure ,
Still to return your own .

Give me your hand ;
Conduct me to mine host : we love him highly ,
And shall continue our graces towards him .
By your leave , hostess .

If it were done when 'tis done , then 'twere well 
It were done quickly ; if the assassination 
Could trammel up the consequence , and catch 
With his surcease success ; that but this blow 
Might be the be-all and the end-all here ,
But here , upon this bank and shoal of time ,
We'd jump the life to come . But in these cases 
We still have judgment here ; that we but teach 
Bloody instructions , which , being taught , return 
To plague the inventor ; this even-handed justice 
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
To our own lips . He's here in double trust :
First , as I am his kinsman and his subject ,
Strong both against the deed ; then , as his host ,
Who should against his murderer shut the door ,
Not bear the knife myself . Besides , this Duncan 
Hath borne his faculties so meek , hath been 
So clear in his great office , that his virtues 
Will plead like angels trumpet-tongu'd against 
The deep damnation of his taking-off ;
And pity , like a naked new-born babe ,
Striding the blast , or heaven's cherubin , hors'd 
Upon the sightless couriers of the air ,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye ,
That tears shall drown the wind . I have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent , but only 
Vaulting ambition , which o'er-leaps itself 
And falls on the other .

How now ! what news ?

He has almost supp'd : why have you left the chamber ?

Hath he ask'd for me ?

Know you not he has ?

We will proceed no further in this business :
He hath honour'd me of late ; and I have bought 
Golden opinions from all sorts of people ,
Which would be worn now in their newest gloss ,
Not cast aside so soon .

Was the hope drunk ,
Wherein you dress'd yourself ? hath it slept since ,
And wakes it now , to look so green and pale 
At what it did so freely ? From this time 
Such I account thy love . Art thou afeard 
To be the same in thine own act and valour 
As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that 
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life ,
And live a coward in thine own esteem ,
Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would ,' 
Like the poor cat i' the adage ?

Prithee , peace .
I dare do all that may become a man ;
Who dares do more is none .

What beast was't , then ,
That made you break this enterprise to me ?
When you durst do it then you were a man ;
And , to be more than what you were , you would 
Be so much more the man . Nor time nor place 
Did then adhere , and yet you would make both :
They have made themselves , and that their fitness now 
Does unmake you . I have given suck , and know 
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me :
I would , while it was smiling in my face ,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums ,
And dash'd the brains out , had I so sworn as you 
Have done to this .

If we should fail ,

We fail !
But screw your courage to the sticking-place ,
And we'll not fail . When Duncan is asleep ,
Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey 
Soundly invite him , his two chamberlains 
Will I with wine and wassail so convince 
That memory , the warder of the brain ,
Shall be a fume , and the receipt of reason 
A limbeck only ; when in swinish sleep 
Their drenched natures lie , as in a death ,
What cannot you and I perform upon 
The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon 
His spongy officers , who shall bear the guilt 
Of our great quell ?

Bring forth men-children only ;
For thy undaunted mettle should compose 
Nothing but males . Will it not be receiv'd ,
When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two 
Of his own chamber and us'd their very daggers ,
That they have done't ?

Who dares receive it other ,
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar 
Upon his death ?

I am settled , and bend up 
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat .
Away , and mock the time with fairest show :
False face must hide what the false heart doth know .

How goes the night , boy ?

The moon is down ; I have not heard the clock .

And she goes down at twelve .

I take't , 'tis later , sir .

Hold , take my sword . There's husbandry in heaven ;
Their candles are all out . Take thee that too .
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me ,
And yet I would not sleep : merciful powers !
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature 
Gives way to in repose .


Give me my sword .

Who's there ?

A friend .

What , sir ! not yet at rest ? The king's a-bed :
He hath been in unusual pleasure , and 
Sent forth great largess to your offices .
This diamond he greets your wife withal ,
By the name of most kind hostess ; and shut up 
In measureless content .

Being unprepar'd ,
Our will became the servant to defect ,
Which else should free have wrought .

All's well .
I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters :
To you they have show'd some truth .

I think not of them :
Yet , when we can entreat an hour to serve ,
We would spend it in some words upon that business ,
If you would grant the time .

At your kind'st leisure .

If you shall cleave to my consent , when 'tis ,
It shall make honour for you .

So I lose none 
In seeking to augment it , but still keep 
My bosom franchis'd and allegiance clear ,
I shall be counsell'd .

Good repose the while !

Thanks , sir : the like to you .


Go bid thy mistress , when my drink is ready 
She strike upon the bell . Get thee to bed .

Is this a dagger which I see before me ,
The handle toward my hand ? Come , let me clutch thee :
I have thee not , and yet I see thee still .
Art thou not , fatal vision , sensible 
To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but 
A dagger of the mind , a false creation ,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ?
I see thee yet , in form as palpable 
As this which now I draw .
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ;
And such an instrument I was to use .
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses ,
Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ;
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood ,
Which was not so before . There's no such thing :
It is the bloody business which informs 
Thus to mine eyes . Now o'er the one half-world 
Nature seems dead , and wicked dreams abuse 
The curtain'd sleep ; witchcraft celebrates 
Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder ,
Alarum'd by his sentinel , the wolf ,
Whose howl's his watch , thus with his stealthy pace ,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides , toward his design 
Moves like a ghost . Thou sure and firm-set earth ,
Hear not my steps , which way they walk , for fear 
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout ,
And take the present horror from the time ,
Which now suits with it . Whiles I threat he lives :
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives .

I go , and it is done ; the bell invites me .
Hear it not , Duncan ; for it is a knell 
That summons thee to heaven or to hell .


That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold ,
What hath quench'd them hath given me fire . Hark !
Peace !
It was the owl that shriek'd , the fatal bellman ,
Which gives the stern'st good-night . He is about it :
The doors are open , and the surfeited grooms 
Do mock their charge with snores : I have drugg'd their possets ,
That death and nature do contend about them ,
Whether they live or die .

Who's there ? what , ho !

Alack ! I am afraid they have awak'd ,
And 'tis not done ; the attempt and not the deed 
Confounds us . Hark ! I laid their daggers ready ;
He could not miss them . Had he not resembled 
My father as he slept I had done 't . My husband !


I have done the deed . Didst thou not hear a noise ?

I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry .
Did not you speak ?

When ?

Now .

As I descended ?

Ay .

Hark !
Who lies i' the second chamber ?

Donalbain .

This is a sorry sight .

A foolish thought to say a sorry sight .

There's one did laugh in 's sleep , and one cried 'Murder !' 
That they did wake each other : I stood and heard them ;
But they did say their prayers , and address'd them 
Again to sleep .

There are two lodg'd together .

One cried 'God bless us !' and 'Amen' the other :
As they had seen me with these hangman's hands .
Listening their fear , I could not say 'Amen ,' 
When they did say 'God bless us !' 

Consider it not so deeply .

But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen ?' 
I had most need of blessing , and 'Amen' 
Stuck in my throat .

These deeds must not be thought 
After these ways ; so , it will make us mad .

Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more !
Macbeth does murder sleep ,' the innocent sleep ,
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care ,
The death of each day's life , sore labour's bath ,
Balm of hurt minds , great nature's second course ,
Chief nourisher in life's feast ,

What do you mean ?

Still it cried , 'Sleep no more !' to all the house :
'Glamis hath murder'd sleep , and therefore Cawdor 
Shall sleep no more , Macbeth shall sleep no more !' 

Who was it that thus cried ? Why , worthy thane ,
You do unbend your noble strength to think 
So brainsickly of things . Go get some water ,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand .
Why did you bring these daggers from the place ?
They must lie there : go carry them , and smear 
The sleepy grooms with blood .

I'll go no more :
I am afraid to think what I have done ;
Look on 't again I dare not .

Infirm of purpose !
Give me the daggers . The sleeping and the dead 
Are but as pictures ; 'tis the eye of childhood 
That fears a painted devil . If he do bleed ,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal ;
For it must seem their guilt .


Whence is that knocking ?
How is't with me , when every noise appals me ?
What hands are here ! Ha ! they pluck out mine eyes .
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
Clean from my hand ? No , this my hand will rather 
The multitudinous seas incarnadine ,
Making the green one red .


My hands are of your colour , but I shame 
To wear a heart so white .

I hear a knocking 
At the south entry ; retire we to our chamber ;
A little water clears us of this deed ;
How easy is it , then ! Your constancy 
Hath left you unattended .

Hark ! more knocking .
Get on your night-gown , lest occasion call us ,
And show us to be watchers . Be not lost 
So poorly in your thoughts .

To know my deed 'twere best not know myself .

Wake Duncan with thy knocking ! I would thou couldst !


Here's a knocking , indeed ! If a man were porter of hell-gate he should have old turning the key .

Knock , knock , knock ! Who's there , i' the name of Beelzebub ? Here's a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty : come in time ; have napkins enough about you ; here you'll sweat for 't . [Knocking within .] Knock , knock ! Who's there i' the other devil's name ! Faith , here's an equivocator , that could swear in both the scales against either scale ; who committed treason enough for God's sake , yet could not equivocate to heaven : O ! come in , equivocator . [Knocking within .] Knock , knock , knock ! Who's there ? Faith , here's an English tailor come hither for stealing out of a French hose : come in , tailor ; here you may roast your goose . [Knocking within .] Knock , knock ; never at quiet ! What are you ? But this place is too cold for hell . I'll devil-porter it no further : I had thought to have let in some of all professions , that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire . [Knocking within .] Anon , anon ! I pray you , remember the porter .

Was it so late , friend , ere you went to bed ,
That you do lie so late ?

Faith , sir , we were carousing till the second cock ; and drink , sir , is a great provoker of three things .

What three things does drink especially provoke ?

Marry , sir , mose-painting , sleep , and urine . Lechery , sir , it provokes , and unprovokes ; it provokes the desire , but it takes away the performance . Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery ; it makes him , and it mars him ; it sets him on , and it takes him off ; it persuades him , and disheartens him ; makes him stand to , and not stand to ; in conclusion , equivocates him in a sleep , and , giving him the lie , leaves him .

I believe drink gave thee the lie last night .

That it did , sir , i' the very throat o' me : but I requited him for his lie ; and , I think , being too strong for him , though he took up my legs sometime , yet I made a shift to cast him .

Is thy master stirring ?

Our knocking has awak'd him ; here he comes .

Good morrow , noble sir .

Good morrow , both .

Is the king stirring , worthy thane ?

Not yet .

He did command me to call timely on him :
I have almost slipp'd the hour .

I'll bring you to him .

I know this is a joyful trouble to you ;
But yet 'tis one .

The labour we delight in physics pain .
This is the door .

I'll make so bold to call ,
For 'tis my limited service .


Goes the king hence to-day ?

He does : he did appoint so .

The night has been unruly : where we lay ,
Ourchimneys were blown down ; and , as they say ,
Lamentings heard i' the air ; strange screams of death ,
And prophesying with accents terrible 
Of dire combustion and confus'd events 
New hatch'd to the woeful time . The obscure bird 
Clamour'd the livelong night : some say the earth 
Was feverous and did shake .

'Twas a rough night .

My young remembrance cannot parallel 
A fellow to it .


O horror ! horror ! horror ! Tongue nor heart 
Cannot conceive nor name thee !

What's the matter ?

What's the matter ?

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece !
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
The Lord's anointed temple , and stole thence 
The life o' the building !

What is 't you say ? the life ?

Mean you his majesty ?

Approach the chamber , and destroy your sight 
With a new Gorgon : do not bid me speak ;
See , and then speak yourselves .

Awake ! awake !
Ring the alarum-bell . Murder and treason !
Banquo and Donalbain ! Malcolm ! awake !
Shake off this downy sleep , death's counterfeit ,
And look on death itself ! up , up , and see 
The great doom's image ! Malcolm ! Banquo !
As from your graves rise up , and walk like sprites ,
To countenance this horror ! Ring the bell .

What's the business ,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley 
The sleepers of the house ? speak , speak !

O gentle lady !
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak ;
The repetition in a woman's ear 
Would murder as it fell .


O Banquo ! Banquo !

Our royal master's murder'd !

Woe , alas !
What ! in our house ?

Too cruel any where .
Dear Duff , I prithee , contradict thyself ,
And say it is not so .


Had I but died an hour before this chance 
I had liv'd a blessed time ; for , from this instant ,
There's nothing serious in mortality ,
All is but toys ; renown and grace is dead ,
The wine of life is drawn , and the mere lees 
Is left this vault to brag of .


What is amiss ?

You are , and do not know 't :
The spring , the head , the fountain of your blood 
Is stopp'd ; the very source of it is stopp'd .

Your royal father's murder'd .

O ! by whom ?

Those of his chamber , as it seem'd , had done 't :
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood ;
So were their daggers , which unwip'd we found 
Upon their pillows : they star'd , and were distracted ; no man's life 
Was to be trusted with them .

O ! yet I do repent me of my fury ,
That I did kill them .

Wherefore did you so ?

Who can be wise , amaz'd , temperate and furious ,
Loyal and neutral , in a moment ? No man :
The expedition of my violent love 
Outran the pauser , reason . Here lay Duncan ,
His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood ;
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature 
For ruin's wasteful entrance : there , the murderers ,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade , their daggers 
Unmannerly breech'd with gore : who could refrain ,
That had a heart to love , and in that heart 
Courage to make 's love known ?

Help me hence , ho !

Look to the lady .

Why do we hold our tongues ,
That most may claim this argument for ours :

What should be spoken 
Here where our fate , hid in an auger-hole ,
May rush and seize us ? Let's away : our tears 
Are not yet brew'd .

Nor our strong sorrow 
Upon the foot of motion .

Look to the lady :

And when we have our naked frailties hid ,
That suffer in exposure , let us meet ,
And question this most bloody piece of work ,
To know it further . Fears and scruples shake us :
In the great hand of God I stand , and thence 
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight 
Of treasonous malice .

And so do I .

So all .

Let's briefly put on manly readiness ,
And meet i' the hall together .

Well contented .


What will you do ? Let's not consort with them :
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office 
Which the false man does easy . I'll to England .

To Ireland , I ; our separated fortune 
Shall keep us both the safer : where we are ,
There's daggers in men's smiles : the near in blood ,
The nearer bloody .

This murderous shaft that's shot 
Hath not yet lighted , and our safest way 
Is to avoid the aim : therefore , to horse ;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking ,
But shift away : there's warrant in that theft 
Which steals itself when there's no mercy left .


Threescore and ten I can remember well ;
Within the volume of which time I have seen 
Hours dreadful and things strange , but this sore night 
Hath trifled former knowings .

Ah ! good father ,
Thou seest , the heavens , as troubled with man's act ,
Threaten his bloody stage : by the clock 'tis day ,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp .
Is 't night's predominance , or the day's shame ,
That darkness does the face of earth entomb ,
When living light should kiss it ?

'Tis unnatural ,
Even like the deed that's done . On Tuesday last ,
A falcon , towering in her pride of place ,
Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd .

And Duncan's horses ,a thing most strange and certain ,
Beauteous and swift , the minions of their race ,
Turn'd wild in nature , broke their stalls , flung out ,
Contending 'gainst obedience , as they would 
Make war with mankind .

'Tis said they eat each other .

They did so ; to the amazement of mine eyes ,
That look'd upon 't . Here comes the good Macduff .

How goes the world , sir , now ?

Why , see you not ?

Is 't known who did this more than bloody deed ?

Those that Macbeth hath slain .

Alas , the day !
What good could they pretend ?

They were suborn'd .
Malcolm and Donalbain , the king's two sons ,
Are stol'n away and fled , which puts upon them 
Suspicion of the deed .

'Gainst nature still !
Thriftless ambition , that wilt ravin up 
Thine own life's means ! Then 'tis most like 
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth .

He is already nam'd , and gone to Scone 
To be invested .

Where is Duncan's body ?

Carried to Colmekill ;
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors 
And guardian of their bones .

Will you to Scone ?

No , cousin , I'll to Fife .

Well , I will thither .

Well , may you see things well done there : adieu !
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new !

Farewell , father .

God's benison go with you ; and with those 
That would make good of bad , and friends of foes !

Thou hast it now : King , Cawdor , Glamis , all ,
As the weird women promis'd ; and , I fear ,
Thou play'dst most foully for 't ; yet it was said 
It should not stand in thy posterity ,
But that myself should be the root and father 
Of many kings . If there come truth from them ,
As upon thee , Macbeth , their speeches shine ,
Why , by the verities on thee made good ,
May they not be my oracles as well ,
And set me up in hope ? But , hush ! no more .

Here's our chief guest .

If he had been forgotten 
It had been as a gap in our great feast ,
And all-thing unbecoming .

To-night we hold a solemn supper , sir ,
And I'll request your presence .

Let your highness 
Command upon me ; to the which my duties 
Are with a most indissoluble tie 
For ever knit .

Ride you this afternoon ?

Ay , my good lord .

We should have else desir'd your good advice 
Which still hath been both grave and prosperous 
In this day's council ; but we'll take to-morrow .
Is 't far you ride ?

As far , my lord , as will fill up the time 
'Twixt this and supper ; go not my horse the better ,
I must become a borrower of the night 
For a dark hour or twain .

Fail not our feast .

My lord , I will not .

We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd 
In England and in Ireland , not confessing 
Their cruel parricide , filling their hearers 
With strange invention ; but of that to-morrow ,
When therewithal we shall have cause of state 
Craving us jointly . Hie you to horse ; adieu 
Till you return at night . Goes Fleance with you ?

Ay , my good lord : our time does call upon 's .

I wish your horses swift and sure of foot ;
And so I do commend you to their backs .
Farewell .

Let every man be master of his time 
Till seven at night ; to make society 
The sweeter welcome , we will keep ourself 
Till supper-time alone ; while then , God be with you !

Sirrah , a word with you . Attend those men 
Our pleasure ?

They are , my lord , without the palace gate .

Bring them before us .

To be thus is nothing ;
But to be safely thus . Our fears in Banquo 
Stick deep , and in his royalty of nature 
Reigns that which would be fear'd : 'tis much he dares ,
And , to that dauntless temper of his mind ,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour 
To act in safety . There is none but he 
Whose being I do fear ; and under him 
My genius is rebuk'd , as it is said 
Mark Antony's was by C sar . He chid the sisters 
When first they put the name of king upon me ,
And bade them speak to him ; then , prophet-like ,
They hail'd him father to a line of kings .
Upon my head they plac'd a fruitless crown ,
And put a barren sceptre in my gripe ,
Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand ,
No son of mine succeeding . If 't be so ,
For Banquo's issue have I fil'd my mind ;
For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd ;
Put rancours in the vessel of my peace 
Only for them ; and mine eternal jewel 
Given to the common enemy of man ,
To make them kings , the seed of Banquo kings !
Rather than so , come fate into the list ,
And champion me to the utterance ! Who's there ?


Now go to the door , and stay there till we call .


Was it not yesterday we spoke together ?

It was , so please your highness .

Well then , now 
Have you consider'd of my speeches ? Know 
That it was he in the times past which held you 
So under fortune , which you thought had been 
Our innocent self . This I made good to you 
In our last conference , pass'd in probation with you ,
How you were borne in hand , how cross'd , the instruments ,
Who wrought with them , and all things else that might 
To half a soul and to a notion craz'd 
Say , 'Thus did Banquo .' 

You made it known to us .

I did so ; and went further , which is now 
Our point of second meeting . Do you find 
Your patience so predominant in your nature 
That you can let this go ? Are you so gospell'd 
To pray for this good man and for his issue ,
Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave 
And beggar'd yours for ever ?

We are men , my liege .

Ay , in the catalogue ye go for men ;
As hounds and greyhounds , mongrels , spaniels , curs ,
Shoughs , water-rugs , and demi-wolves , are clept 
All by the name of dogs : the valu'd file 
Distinguishes the swift , the slow , the subtle ,
The housekeeper , the hunter , every one 
According to the gift which bounteous nature 
Hath in him clos'd ; whereby he does receive 
Particular addition , from the bill 
That writes them all alike : and so of men .
Now , if you have a station in the file ,
Not i' the worst rank of manhood , say it ;
And I will put that business in your bosoms ,
Whose execution takes your enemy off ,
Grapples you to the heart and love of us ,
Who wear our health but sickly in his life ,
Which in his death were perfect .

I am one , my liege ,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
Have so incens'd that I am reckless what 
I do to spite the world .

And I another ,
So weary with disasters , tugg'd with fortune ,
That I would set my life on any chance ,
To mend it or be rid on 't .

Both of you 
Know Banquo was your enemy .

True , my lord .

So is he mine ; and in such bloody distance 
That every minute of his being thrusts 
Against my near'st of life : and though I could 
With bare-fac'd power sweep him from my sight 
And bid my will avouch it , yet I must not ,
For certain friends that are both his and mine ,
Whose loves I may not drop , but wail his fall 
Whom I myself struck down ; and thence it is 
That I to your assistance do make love ,
Masking the business from the common eye 
For sundry weighty reasons .

We shall , my lord ,
Perform what you command us .

Though our lives 

Your spirits shine through you . Within this hour at most 
I will advise you where to plant yourselves ,
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time ,
The moment on 't ; for 't must be done to-night ,
And something from the palace ; always thought 
That I require a clearness : and with him 
To leave no rubs nor botches in the work 
Fleance his son , that keeps him company ,
Whose absence is no less material to me 
Than is his father's , must embrace the fate 
Of that dark hour . Resolve yourselves apart ;
I'll come to you anon .

We are resolv'd , my lord .

I'll call upon you straight : abide within .

It is concluded : Banquo , thy soul's flight ,
If it find heaven , must find it out to-night .


Is Banquo gone from court ?

Ay , madam , but returns again to-night .

Say to the king , I would attend his leisure 
For a few words .

Madam , I will .


Nought's had , all's spent ,
Where our desire is got without content :
'Tis safer to be that which we destroy 
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy .


How now , my lord ! why do you keep alone ,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making ,
Using those thoughts which should indeed have died 
With them they think on ? Things without all remedy 

Should be without regard : what's done is done .

We have scotch'd the snake , not kill'd it :
She'll close and be herself , whilst our poor malice 
Remains in danger of her former tooth .
But let the frame of things disjoint , both the worlds suffer ,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear , and sleep 
In the affliction of these terrible dreams 
That shake us nightly . Better be with the dead ,
Whom we , to gain our peace , have sent to peace ,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
In restless ecstasy . Duncan is in his grave ;
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well ;
Treason has done his worst : nor steel , nor poison ,
Malice domestic , foreign levy , nothing 
Can touch him further .

Come on ;
Gentle my lord , sleek o'er your rugged looks ;
Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night .

So shall I , love ; and so , I pray , be you .
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo ;
Present him eminence , both with eye and tongue :
Unsafe the while , that we 
Must lave our honours in these flattering streams ,
And make our faces vizards to our hearts ,
Disguising what they are .

You must leave this .

O ! full of scorpions is my mind , dear wife ;
Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives .

But in them nature's copy's not eterne .

There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ;
Then be thou jocund . Ere the bat hath flown 
His cloister'd flight , ere , to black Hecate's summons 
The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums 
Hath rung night's yawning peal , there shall be done 
A deed of dreadful note .

What's to be done ?

Be innocent of the knowledge , dearest chuck ,
Till thou applaud the deed . Come , seeling night ,
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ,
And with thy bloody and invisible hand 
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond 
Which keeps me pale ! Light thickens , and the crow 
Makes wing to the rooky wood ;
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ,
Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse .
Thou marvell'st at my words : but hold thee still ;
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill :
So , prithee , go with me .


But who did bid thee join with us ?

Macbeth .

He needs not our mistrust , since he delivers 
Our offices and what we have to do 
To the direction just .

Then stand with us .
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day :
Now spurs the lated traveller apace 
To gain the timely inn ; and near approaches 
The subject of our watch .

Hark ! I hear horses .

Give us a light there , ho !

Then 'tis he : the rest 
That are within the note of expectation 
Already are i' the court .

His horses go about .

Almost a mile ; but he does usually ,
So all men do , from hence to the palace gate 
Make it their walk .

A light , a light !

'Tis he .

Stand to 't .


It will be rain to-night .

Let it come down .


O , treachery ! Fly , good Fleance , fly , fly , fly !
Thou mayst revenge . O slave !


Who did strike out the light ?

Was 't not the way ?

There's but one down ; the son is fled .

We have lost 
Best half of our affair .

Well , let's away , and say how much is done .


You know your own degrees ; sit down : at first and last ,
The hearty welcome .

Thanks to your majesty .

Ourself will mingle with society 
And play the humble host .
Our hostess keeps her state , but in best time 
We will require her welcome .

Pronounce it for me , sir , to all our friends ;
For my heart speaks they are welcome .


See , they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks ;
Both sides are even : here I'll sit i' the midst :
Be large in mirth ; anon , we'll drink a measure 
The table round .

There's blood upon thy face .

'Tis Banquo's , then .

'Tis better thee without than he within .
Is he dispatch'd ?

My lord , his throat is cut ; that I did for him .

Thou art the best o' the cut-throats ; yet he's good 
That did the like for Fleance : if thou didst it ,
Thou art the nonpareil .

Most royal sir ,
Fleance is 'scap'd .

Then comes my fit again : I had else been perfect ;
Whole as the marble , founded as the rock ,
As broad and general as the casing air :
But now I am cabin'd , cribb'd , confin'd , bound in 
To saucy doubts and fears . But Banquo's safe ?

Ay , my good lord ; safe in a ditch he bides ,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head ;
The least a death to nature .

Thanks for that .
There the grown serpent lies : the worm that's fled 
Hath nature that in time will venom breed ,
No teeth for the present . Get thee gone ; to-morrow 
We'll hear ourselves again .


My royal lord ,
You do not give the cheer : the feast is sold 
That is not often vouch'd , while 'tis a-making ,
'Tis given with welcome : to feed were best at home ;
From thence , the sauce to meat is ceremony ;
Meeting were bare without it .

Sweet remembrancer !
Now good digestion wait on appetite ,
And health on both !

May it please your highness sit ?


Here had we now our country's honour roof'd ,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present ;
Who may I rather challenge for unkindness 
Than pity for mischance !

His absence , sir ,
Lays blame upon his promise . Please 't your highness 
To grace us with your royal company .

The table's full .

Here is a place reserv'd , sir .

Where ?

Here , my good lord . What is 't that moves your highness ?

Which of you have done this ?

What , my good lord ?

Thou canst not say I did it : never shake 
Thy gory locks at me .

Gentlemen , rise ; his highness is not well .

Sit , worthy friends : my lord is often thus ,
And hath been from his youth : pray you , keep seat ;
The fit is momentary ; upon a thought 
He will again be well . If much you note him 
You shall offend him and extend his passion :
Feed and regard him not . Are you a man ?

Ay , and a bold one , that dare look on that 
Which might appal the devil .

O proper stuff !
This is the very painting of your fear ;
This is the air-drawn dagger which , you said ,
Led you to Duncan . O ! these flaws and starts 
Impostors to true fear would well become 
A woman's story at a winter's fire ,
Authoriz'd by her grandam . Shame itself !
Why do you make such faces ? When all's done 
You look but on a stool .

Prithee , see there ! behold ! look ! lo ! how say you ?
Why , what care I ? If thou canst nod , speak too .
If charnel-houses and our graves must send 
Those that we bury back , our monuments 
Shall be the maws of kites .


What ! quite unmann'd in folly ?

If I stand here , I saw him .

Fie , for shame !

Blood hath been shed ere now , i' the olden time ,
Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal ;
Ay , and since too , murders have been perform'd 
Too terrible for the ear : the times have been ,
That , when the brains were out , the man would die ,

And there an end ; but now they rise again ,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns ,
And push us from our stools : this is more strange 
Than such a murder is .

My worthy lord ,
Your noble friends do lack you .

I do forget .
Do not muse at me , my most worthy friends ;
I have a strange infirmity , which is nothing 
To those that know me . Come , love and health to all ;
Then , I'll sit down . Give me some wine ; fill full .
I drink to the general joy of the whole table ,
And to our dear friend Banquo , whom we miss ;
Would he were here ! to all , and him , we thirst ,
And all to all .

Our duties , and the pledge .


Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee !
Thy bones are marrowless , thy blood is cold ;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
Which thou dost glare with .

Think of this , good peers ,
But as a thing of custom : 'tis no other ;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time .

What man dare , I dare :
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear ,
The arm'd rhinoceros , or the Hyrcan tiger ;
Take any shape but that , and my firm nerves 
Shall never tremble : or be alive again ,
And dare me to the desart with thy sword ;
If trembling I inhabit then , protest me 
The baby of a girl . Hence , horrible shadow !
Unreal mockery , hence !

Why , so ; being gone ,
I am a man again . Pray you , sit still .

You have displac'd the mirth , broke the good meeting ,
With most admir'd disorder .

Can such things be 
And overcome us like a summer's cloud ,
Without our special wonder ? You make me strange 
Even to the disposition that I owe ,
When now I think you can behold such sights ,
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks ,
When mine are blanch'd with fear .

What sights , my lord ?

I pray you , speak not ; he grows worse and worse ;
Question enrages him . At once , good-night :
Stand not upon the order of your going ,
But go at once .

Good-night ; and better health 
Attend his majesty !

A kind good-night to all !


It will have blood , they say ; blood will have blood :
Stones have been known to move and trees to speak ;
Augurs and understood relations have 
By maggot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth 
The secret'st man of blood . What is the night ?

Almost at odds with morning , which is which .

How sayst thou , that Macduff denies his person 
At our great bidding ?

Did you send to him , sir ?

I hear it by the way ; but I will send .
There's not a one of them but in his house 
I keep a servant fee'd . I will to-morrow 
And betimes I will to the weird sisters :
More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know ,
By the worst means , the worst . For mine own good 
All causes shall give way : I am in blood 
Stepp'd in so far , that , should I wade no more ,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er .
Strange things I have in head that will to hand ,
Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd .

You lack the season of all natures , sleep .

Come , we'll to sleep . My strange and self-abuse 
Is the initiate fear that wants hard use :
We are yet but young in deed .


Why , how now , Hecate ! you look angerly .

Have I not reason , beldams as you are ,
Saucy and overbold ? How did you dare 
To trade and traffic with Macbeth 
In riddles and affairs of death ;
And I , the mistress of your charms ,
The close contriver of all harms ,
Was never call'd to bear my part ,
Or show the glory of our art ?
And , which is worse , all you have done 
Hath been but for a wayward son ,
Spiteful and wrathful ; who , as others do ,
Loves for his own ends , not for you .
But make amends now : get you gone ,
And at the pit of Acheron 
Meet me i' the morning : thither he 
Will come to know his destiny :
Your vessels and your spells provide ,
Your charms and every thing beside .
I am for the air ; this night I'll spend 
Unto a dismal and a fatal end :
Great business must be wrought ere noon :
Upon the corner of the moon 
There hangs a vaporous drop profound ;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground :
And that distill'd by magic sleights 
Shall raise such artificial sprites 
As by the strength of their illusion 
Shall draw him on to his confusion :
He shall spurn fate , scorn death , and bear 
His hopes 'bove wisdom , grace , and fear ;
And you all know security 
Is mortals' chiefest enemy .

Hark ! I am call'd ; my little spirit , see ,
Sits in a foggy cloud , and stays for me .


Come , let's make haste ; she'll soon be back again .


My former speeches have but hit your thoughts ,
Which can interpret further : only , I say ,
Things have been strangely borne . The gracious Duncan 
Was pitied of Macbeth : marry , he was dead :
And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late ;
Whom , you may say , if 't please you , Fleance kill'd ,
For Fleance fled : men must not walk too late .
Who cannot want the thought how monstrous 
It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain 
To kill their gracious father ? damned fact !
How it did grieve Macbeth ! did he not straight 
In pious rage the two delinquents tear ,
That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep ?
Was not that nobly done ? Ay , and wisely too ;
For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive 
To hear the men deny 't . So that , I say ,
He has borne all things well ; and I do think 
That , had he Duncan's sons under his key ,
As , an 't please heaven , he shall not ,they should find 
What 'twere to kill a father ; so should Fleance .
But , peace ! for from broad words , and 'cause he fail'd .
His presence at the tyrant's feast , I hear ,
Macduff lives in disgrace . Sir , can you tell 
Where he bestows himself ?

The son of Duncan ,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth ,
Lives in the English court , and is receiv'd 
Of the most pious Edward with such grace 
That the malevolence of fortune nothing 
Takes from his high respect . Thither Macduff 
Is gone to pray the holy king , upon his aid 
To wake Northumberland and war-like Siward :
That , by the help of these with him above 
To ratify the work we may again 
Give to our tables meat , sleep to our nights ,
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives ,
Do faithful homage and receive free honours ;
All which we pine for now . And this report 
Hath so exasperate the king that he 
Prepares for some attempt at war .

Sent he to Macduff ?

He did : and with an absolute , 'Sir , not I ,' 
The cloudy messenger turns me his back ,
And hums , as who should say , 'You'll rue the time 
That clogs me with this answer .' 

And that well might 
Advise him to a caution to hold what distance 
His wisdom can provide . Some holy angel 
Fly to the court of England and unfold 
His message ere he come , that a swift blessing 
May soon return to this our suffering country 
Under a hand accurs'd !

I'll send my prayers with him !

Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd .

Thrice and once the hedge-pig whin'd .

Harper cries : 'Tis time , 'tis time .


Round about the cauldron go ,
In the poison'd entrails throw .
Toad , that under cold stone 
Days and nights hast thirty-one 
Swelter'd venom sleeping got ,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot .

Double , double toil and trouble ;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble .

Fillet of a fenny snake ,
In the cauldron boil and bake ;
Eye of newt , and toe of frog ,
Wool of bat , and tongue of dog ,
Adder's fork , and blind-worm's sting ,
Lizard's leg , and howlet's wing ,
For a charm of powerful trouble ,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble .

Double , double toil and trouble ;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble .

Scale of dragon , tooth of wolf ,
Witches' mummy , maw and gulf 
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark ,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark ,
Liver of blaspheming Jew ,
Gall of goat , and slips of yew 
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse ,
Nose of Turk , and Tartar's lips ,
Finger of birth-strangled babe 
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab ,
Make the gruel thick and slab :
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron ,
For the ingredients of our cauldron .

Double , double toil and trouble ;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble .

Cool it with a baboon's blood ,
Then the charm is firm and good .


O ! well done ! I commend your pains ,
And every one shall share i' the gains .
And now about the cauldron sing ,
Like elves and fairies in a ring ,
Enchanting all that you put in .


By the pricking of my thumbs ,
Something wicked this way comes .
Open , locks ,
Whoever knocks .

How now , you secret , black , and mid-night hags !
What is 't you do ?

A deed without a name .

I conjure you , by that which you profess ,
Howe'er you come to know it ,answer me :
Though you untie the winds and let them fight 
Against the churches ; though the yesty waves 
Confound and swallow navigation up ;
Though bladed corn be lodg'd and trees blown down ;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads ;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure 
Of Nature's germens tumble all together ,
Even till destruction sicken ; answer me 
To what I ask you .

Speak .

Demand .

We'll answer .

Say if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths ,
Or from our masters' ?

Call 'em : let me see 'em .


Pour in sow's blood , that hath eaten 
Her nine farrow ; grease , that's sweaten 
From the murderer's gibbet throw 
Into the flame .

Come , high or low ;
Thyself and office deftly show .

Tell me , thou unknown power ,

He knows thy thought :
Hear his speech , but say thou nought .

Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth ! beware Macduff ;
Beware the Thane of Fife . Dismiss me . Enough .


Whate'er thou art , for thy good caution thanks ;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright . But one word more ,

He will not be commanded : here's another ,
More potent than the first .


Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth !

Had I three ears , I'd hear thee .

Be bloody , bold , and resolute ; laugh to scorn 
The power of man , for none of woman born 
Shall harm Macbeth .

Then live , Macduff : what need I fear of thee ?
But yet I'll make assurance double sure ,
And take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live ;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies ,
And sleep in spite of thunder .

What is this ,
That rises like the issue of a king ,
And wears upon his baby brow the round 

And top of sovereignty ?

Listen , but speak not to 't .

Be lion-mettled , proud , and take no care 
Who chafes , who frets or where conspirers are :
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until 
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill 
Shall come against him .


That will never be :
Who can impress the forest , bid the tree 
Unfix his earth-bound root ? Sweet bodements ! good !
Rebellion's head , rise never till the wood 
Of Birnam rise , and our high-plac'd Macbeth 
Shall live the lease of nature , pay his breath 
To time and mortal custom . Yet my heart 
Throbs to know one thing : tell me if your art 
Can tell so much ,shall Banquo's issue ever 
Reign in this kingdom ?

Seek to know no more .

I will be satisfied : deny me this ,
And an eternal curse fall on you ! Let me know .
Why sinks that cauldron ? and what noise is this ?


Show !

Show !

Show !

Show his eyes , and grieve his heart ;
Come like shadows , so depart .


Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo ; down !
Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs : and thy hair ,
Thou other gold-bound brow , is like the first :
A third is like the former . Filthy hags !
Why do you show me this ? A fourth ! Start , eyes !
What ! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom ?
Another yet ? A seventh ! I'll see no more :
And yet the eighth appears , who bears a glass 
Which shows me many more ; and some I see 
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry .
Horrible sight ! Now , I see , 'tis true ;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me ,
And points at them for his .

What ! is this so ?

Ay , sir , all this is so : but why 
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly ?
Come , sisters , cheer we up his sprites ,
And show the best of our delights .
I'll charm the air to give a sound ,
While you perform your antick round ,
That this great king may kindly say ,
Our duties did his welcome pay .


Where are they ? Gone ? Let this pernicious hour 
Stand aye accursed in the calendar !
Come in , without there !


What's your Grace's will ?

Saw you the weird sisters ?

No , my lord .

Came they not by you ?

No indeed , my lord .

Infected be the air whereon they ride ,
And damn'd all those that trust them ! I did hear 
The galloping of horse : who was 't came by ?

'Tis two or three , my lord , that bring you word 
Macduff is fled to England .

Fled to England !

Ay , my good lord .

Time , thou anticipat'st my dread exploits ;
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook 
Unless the deed go with it ; from this moment 
The very firstlings of my heart shall be 
The firstlings of my hand . And even now ,
To crown my thoughts with acts , be it thought and done :
The castle of Macduff I will surprise ;
Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge of the sword 
His wife , his babes , and all unfortunate souls 
That trace him in his line . No boasting like a fool ;
This deed I'll do , before this purpose cool :
But no moresights ! Where are these gentlemen ?
Come , bring me where they are .


What had he done to make him fly the land ?

You must have patience , madam .

He had none :
His flight was madness : when our actions do not ,
Our fears do make us traitors .

You know not 
Whether it was his wisdom or his fear .

Wisdom ! to leave his wife , to leave his babes ,
His mansion and his titles in a place 
From whence himself does fly ? He loves us not ;
He wants the natural touch ; for the poor wren ,
The most diminutive of birds , will fight 
Her young ones in her nest against the owl .
All is the fear and nothing is the love ;
As little is the wisdom , where the flight 
So runs against all reason .

My dearest coz ,
I pray you , school yourself : but , for your husband ,
He is noble , wise , judicious , and best knows 
The fits o' the season . I dare not speak much further :
But cruel are the times , when we are traitors 
And do not know ourselves , when we hold rumour 
From what we fear , yet know not what we fear ,
But float upon a wild and violent sea 
Each way and move . I take my leave of you :
Shall not be long but I'll be here again .
Things at the worst will cease , or else climb upward 
To what they were before . My pretty cousin ,
Blessing upon you !

Father'd he is , and yet he's fatherless .

I am so much a fool , should I stay longer ,
It would be my disgrace , and your discomfort :
I take my leave at once .


Sirrah , your father's dead :
And what will you do now ? How will you live ?

As birds do , mother .

What ! with worms and flies ?

With what I get , I mean ; and so do they .

Poor bird ! thou'dst never fear the net nor lime ,
The pit-fall nor the gin .

Why should I , mother ? Poor birds they are not set for .
My father is not dead , for all your saying .

Yes , he is dead : how wilt thou do for a father ?

Nay , how will you do for a husband ?

Why , I can buy me twenty at any market .

Then you'll buy 'em to sell again .

Thou speak'st with all thy wit ; and yet , i' faith ,
With wit enough for thee .

Was my father a traitor , mother ?

Ay , that he was .

What is a traitor ?

Why , one that swears and lies .

And be all traitors that do so ?

Every one that does so is a traitor , and must be hanged .

And must they all be hanged that swear and lie ?

Every one .

Who must hang them ?

Why , the honest men .

Then the liars and swearers are fools , for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men , and hang up them .

Now God help thee , poor monkey !
But how wilt thou do for a father ?

If he were dead , you'd weep for him : if you would not , it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father .

Poor prattler , how thou talk'st !


Bless you , fair dame ! I am not to you known ,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect .
I doubt some danger does approach you nearly :
If you will take a homely man's advice ,
Be not found here ; hence , with your little ones .
To fright you thus , methinks , I am too savage ;
To do worse to you were fell cruelty ,
Which is too nigh your person . Heaven preserve you !
I dare abide no longer .


Whither should I fly ?
I have done no harm . But I remember now 
I am in this earthly world , where , to do harm 
Is often laudable , to do good sometime 
Accounted dangerous folly ; why then , alas !
Do I put up that womanly defence ,
To say I have done no harm ?

What are these faces ?

Where is your husband ?

I hope in no place so unsanctified 
Where such as thou mayst find him .

He's a traitor .

Thou liest , thou shag-hair'd villain .

What ! you egg .
Young fry of treachery !


He has killed me , mother :
Run away , I pray you !

Let us seek out some desolate shade , and there 
Weep our sad bosoms empty .

Let us rather 
Hold fast the mortal sword , and like good men 
Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom ; each new morn 
New widowshowl , new orphans cry , new sorrows 
Strike heaven on the face , that it resounds 
As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out 
Like syllable of dolour .

What I believe I'll wail ,
What know believe , and what I can redress ,
As I shall find the time to friend , I will .
What you have spoke , it may be so perchance .
This tyrant , whosesole name blisters our tongues ,
Was once thought honest : you have lov'd him well ;
He hath not touch'd you yet . I am young ; but something 
You may deserve of him through me , and wisdom 
To offer up a weak , poor , innocent lamb 
To appease an angry god .

I am not treacherous .

But Macbeth is .
A good and virtuous nature may recoil 
In an imperial charge . But I shall crave your pardon ;
That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose ;
Angels are bright still , though the brightest fell ;
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace ,
Yet grace must still look so .

I have lost my hopes .

Perchance even there where I did find my doubts .
Why in that rawness left you wife and child 
Those precious motives , those strong knots of love 
Without leave-taking ? I pray you ,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours ,
But mine own safeties : you may be rightly just ,
Whatever I shall think .

Bleed , bleed , poor country !
Great tyranny , lay thou thy basis sure ,
For goodness dares not check thee ! wear thou thy wrongs ;
The title is affeer'd ! Fare thee well , lord :
I would not be the villain that thou think'st 
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp ,
And the rich East to boot .

Be not offended :
I speak not as in absolute fear of you .
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke ;
It weeps , it bleeds , and each new day a gash 
Is added to her wounds : I think withal ,
There would be hands uplifted in my right ;
And here from gracious England have I offer 
Of goodly thousands : but , for all this ,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head ,
Or wear it on my sword , yet my poor country 
Shall have more vices than it had before ,
More suffer , and more sundry ways than ever ,
By him that shall succeed .

What should he be ?

It is myself I mean ; in whom I know 
All the particulars of vice so grafted ,
That , when they shall be open'd , black Macbeth 
Will seem as pure as snow , and the poor state 
Esteem him as a lamb , being compar'd 
With my confineless harms .

Not in the legions 
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd 
In evils to top Macbeth .

I grant him bloody ,
Luxurious , avaricious , false , deceitful ,
Sudden , malicious , smacking of every sin 
That has a name ; but there's no bottom , none ,
In my voluptuousness : your wives , your daughters ,
Your matrons , and your maids , could not fill up 
The cistern of my lust ; and my desire 
All continent impediments would o'erbear 
That did oppose my will ; better Macbeth 
Than such an one to reign .

Boundless intemperance 
In nature is a tyranny ; it hath been 
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne ,
And fall of many kings . But fear not yet 
To take upon you what is yours ; you may 
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty ,
And yet seem cold , the time you may so hoodwink .
We have willing dames enough ; there cannot be 
That vulture in you , to devour so many 
As will to greatness dedicate themselves ,
Finding it so inclin'd .

With this there grows 
In my most ill-compos'd affection such 
A stanchless avarice that , were I king ,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands ,
Desire his jewels and this other's house ;
And my more-having would be as a sauce 
To make me hunger more , that I should forge 
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal ,
Destroying them for wealth .

This avarice 
Sticks deeper , grows with more pernicious root 
Than summer-seeming lust , and it hath been 
The sword of our slain kings : yet do not fear ;
Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will ,
Of your mere own ; all these are portable ,
With other graces weigh'd .

But I have none : the king-becoming graces ,
As justice , verity , temperance , stableness ,
Bounty , perseverance , mercy , lowliness ,
Devotion , patience , courage , fortitude ,
I have no relish of them , but abound 
In the division of each several crime ,
Acting it many ways . Nay , had I power , I should 
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell ,
Uproar the universal peace , confound 
All unity on earth .

O Scotland , Scotland !

If such a one be fit to govern , speak :
I am as I have spoken .

Fit to govern !
No , not to live . O nation miserable ,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd ,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again ,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
By his own interdiction stands accurs'd ,
And does blaspheme his breed ? Thy royal father 
Was a most sainted king ; the queen that bore thee ,
Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet ,
Died every day she liv'd . Fare thee well !
These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself 
Have banish'd me from Scotland . O my breast ,
Thy hope ends here !

Macduff , this noble passion ,
Child of integrity , hath from my soul 
Wip'd the black scruples , reconcil'd my thoughts 
To thy good truth and honour . Devilish Macbeth 
By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
Into his power , and modest wisdom plucks me 
From over-credulous haste ; but God above 
Deal between thee and me ! for even now 
I put myself to thy direction , and 
Unspeak mine own detraction , here abjure 
The taints and blames I laid upon myself ,
For strangers to my nature . I am yet 
Unknown to woman , never was forsworn ,
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own ;
At no time broke my faith , would not betray 
The devil to his fellow , and delight 
No less in truth than life ; my first false speaking 
Was this upon myself . What I am truly ,
Is thine and my poor country's to command ;
Whither indeed , before thy here-approach ,
Old Siward , with ten thousand war-like men ,
Already at a point , was setting forth .
Now we'll together , and the chance of goodness 
Be like our warranted quarrel . Why are you silent ?

Such welcome and unwelcome things at once 
'Tis hard to reconcile .


Well ; more anon . Comes the king forth , I pray you ?

Ay , sir ; there are a crew of wretched souls 
That stay his cure ; their malady convinces 
The great assay of art ; but , at his touch ,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand ,
They presently amend .

I thank you , doctor .


What's the disease he means ?

'Tis call'd the evil :
A most miraculous work in this good king ,
Which often , since my here-remain in England ,
I have seen him do . How he solicits heaven ,
Himself best knows ; but strangely-visited people ,
All swoln and ulcerous , pitiful to the eye ,
The mere despair of surgery , he cures ;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks ,
Put on with holy prayers ; and 'tis spoken 
To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
The healing benediction . With this strange virtue ,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ,
And sundry blessings hang about his throne 
That speak him full of grace .

See , who comes here ?

My countryman ; but yet I know him not .


My ever-gentle cousin , welcome hither .

I know him now . Good God , betimes remove 
The means that make us strangers !

Sir , amen .

Stands Scotland where it did ?

Alas ! poor country ;
Almost afraid to know itself . It cannot 
Be call'd our mother , but our grave ; where nothing ,
But who knows nothing , is once seen to smile ;
Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rent the air 
Are made , not mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems 
A modern ecstasy ; the dead man's knell 
Is there scarce ask'd for who ; and good men's lives 
Expire before the flowers in their caps ,
Dying or ere they sicken .

O ! relation 
Too nice , and yet too true !

What's the newest grief ?

That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker ;
Each minute teems a new one .

How does my wife ?

Why , well .

And all my children ?

Well too .

The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ?

No ; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em .

Be not a niggard of your speech : how goes 't ?

When I came hither to transport the tidings ,
Which I have heavily borne , there ran a rumour 
Of many worthy fellows that were out ;
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather 
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot .
Now is the time of help ; your eye in Scotland 
Would create soldiers , make our women fight ,
To doff their dire distresses .

Be 't their comfort ,
We are coming thither . Gracious England hath 
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men ;
An older and a better soldier none 
That Christendom gives out .

Would I could answer 
This comfort with the like ! But I have words 
That would be howl'd out in the desert air ,
Where hearing should not latch them .

What concern they ?
The general cause ? or is it a fee-grief 
Due to some single breast ?

No mind that's honest 
But in it shares some woe , though the main part 
Pertains to you alone .

If it be mine 
Keep it not from me ; quickly let me have it .

Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever ,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound 
That ever yet they heard .

Hum ! I guess at it .

Your castle is surpris'd ; your wife and babes 
Savagely slaughter'd ; to relate the manner ,
Were , on the quarry of these murder'd deer ,
To add the death of you .

Merciful heaven !
What ! man ; ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ;
Give sorrow words ; the grief that does not speak 
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break .

My children too ?

Wife , children , servants , all 
That could be found .

And I must be from thence !
My wife kill'd too ?

I have said .

Be comforted :
Let's make us medicine of our great revenge ,
To cure this deadly grief .

He has no children . All my pretty ones ?
Did you say all ? O hell-kite ! All ?
What ! all my pretty chickens and their dam 
At one fell swoop ?

Dispute it like a man .

I shall do so ;
But I must also feel it as a man :
I cannot but remember such things were ,
That were most precious to me . Did heaven look on ,
And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff !
They were all struck for thee . Naught that I am ,
Not for their own demerits , but for mine ,
Fell slaughter on their souls . Heaven rest them now !

Be this the whetstone of your sword : let grief 
Convert to anger ; blunt not the heart , enrage it .

O ! I could play the woman with mine eyes ,
And braggart with my tongue . But , gentle heavens ,
Cut short all intermission ; front to front 
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself ;
Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape ,
Heaven forgive him too !

This tune goes manly .
Come , go we to the king ; our power is ready ;
Our lack is nothing but our leave . Macbeth 
Is ripe for shaking , and the powers above 
Put on their instruments . Receive what cheer you may ;
The night is long that never finds the day .

I have two nights watched with you , but can perceive no truth in your report . When was it she last walked ?

Since his majesty went into the field , I have seen her rise from her bed , throw her night-gown upon her , unlock her closet , take forth paper , fold it , write upon 't , read it , afterwards seal it , and again return to bed ; yet all this while in a most fast sleep .

A great perturbation in nature , to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching ! In this slumbery agitation , besides her walking and other actual performances , what , at any time , have you heard her say ?

That , sir , which I will not report after her .

You may to me , and 'tis most meet you should .

Neither to you nor any one , having no witness to confirm my speech .

Lo you ! here she comes . This is her very guise ; and , upon my life , fast asleep . Observe her ; stand close .

How came she by that light ?

Why , it stood by her : she has light by her continually ; 'tis her command .

You see , her eyes are open .

Ay , but their sense is shut .

What is it she does now ? Look , how she rubs her hands .

It is an accustomed action with her , to seem thus washing her hands . I have known her to continue in this a quarter of an hour .

Yet here's a spot .

Hark ! she speaks . I will set down what comes from her , to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly .

Out , damned spot ! out , I say ! One ; two : why , then , 'tis time to do't . Hell is murky ! Fie , my lord , fie ! a soldier , and afeard ? What need we fear who knows it , when none can call our power to account ? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him ?

Do you mark that ?

The Thane of Fife had a wife : where is she now ? What ! will these hands ne'er be clean ? No more o' that , my lord , no more o' that : you mar all with this starting .

Go to , go to ; you have known what you should not .

She has spoke what she should not , I am sure of that : Heaven knows what she has known .

Here's the smell of the blood still : all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand . Oh ! oh ! oh !

What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely charged .

I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body .

Well , well , well .

Pray God it be , sir .

This disease is beyond my practice : yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds .

Wash your hands , put on your night-gown ; look not so pale . I tell you yet again , Banquo's buried ; he cannot come out on 's grave .

Even so ?

To bed , to bed : there's knocking at the gate . Come , come , come , come , give me your hand . What's done cannot be undone .
To bed , to bed , to bed .


Will she go now to bed ?

Directly .

Foul whisperings are abroad . Unnatural deeds 
Do breed unnatural troubles ; infected minds 
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets ;
More needs she the divine than the physician .
God , God forgive us all ! Look after her ;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance ,
And still keep eyes upon her . So , good-night :
My mind she has mated , and amaz'd my sight .
I think , but dare not speak .

Good-night , good doctor .


The English power is near , led on by Malcolm ,
His uncle Siward , and the good Macduff .
Revenges burn in them ; for their dear causes 
Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm 
Excite the mortified man .

Near Birnam wood 
Shall we well meet them ; that way are they coming .

Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother ?

For certain , sir , he is not : I have a file 
Of all the gentry : there is Siward's son ,
And many unrough youths that even now 
Protest their first of manhood .

What does the tyrant ?

Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies .
Some say he's mad ; others that lesser hate him 
Do call it valiant fury ; but , for certain ,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause 
Within the belt of rule .

Now does he feel 
His secret murders sticking on his hands ;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach ;
Those he commands move only in command ,
Nothing in love ; now does he feel his title 
Hang loose about him , like a giant's robe 
Upon a dwarfish thief .

Who then shall blame 
His pester'd senses to recoil and start ,
When all that is within him does condemn 
Itself for being there ?

Well , march we on ,
To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd ;
Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal ,
And with him pour we in our country's purge 
Each drop of us .

Or so much as it needs 
To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds .
Make we our march towards Birnam .


Bring me no more reports ; let them fly all :
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane 
I cannot taint with fear . What's the boy Malcolm ?
Was he not born of woman ? The spirits that know 
All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus :
'Fear not , Macbeth ; no man that's born of woman 
Shall e'er have power upon thee .' Then fly , false thanes ,
And mingle with the English epicures :
The mind I sway by and the heart I bear 
Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear .


The devil damn thee black , thou cream-fac'd loon !

Where gott'st thou that goose look ?

There is ten thousand 

Geese , villain ?

Soldiers , sir .

Go , prick thy face , and over-red thy fear ,
Thou lily-liver'd boy . What soldiers , patch ?
Death of thy soul ! those linen cheeks of thine 
Are counsellors to fear . What soldiers , wheyface ?

The English force , so please you .

Take thy face hence .

Seyton !I am sick at heart 
When I behold Seyton , I say !This push 
Will cheer me ever or disseat me now .
I have liv'd long enough : my way of life 
Is fall'n into the sear , the yellow leaf ;
And that which should accompany old age ,
As honour , love , obedience , troops of friends ,
I must not look to have ; but , in their stead ,
Curses , not loud but deep , mouth-honour , breath ,
Which the poor heart would fain deny , and dare not .
Seyton !


What is your gracious pleasure ?

What news more ?

All is confirm'd , my lord , which was reported .

I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd .
Give me my armour .

'Tis not needed yet .

I'll put it on .
Send out more horses , skirr the country round ;
Hang those that talk of fear . Give me mine armour .
How does your patient , doctor ?

Not so sick , my lord ,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies ,
That keep her from her rest .

Cure her of that :
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd ,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff 
Which weighs upon the heart ?

Therein the patient 
Must minister to himself .

Throw physic to the dogs ; I'll none of it .
Come , put mine armour on ; give me my staff .
Seyton , send out .Doctor , the thanes fly from me .
Come , sir , dispatch .If thou couldst , doctor , cast 
The water of my land , find her disease ,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health ,
I would applaud thee to the very echo ,
That should applaud again .Pull 't off , I say .
What rhubarb , senna , or what purgative drug 
Would scour these English hence ? Hear'st thou of them ?

Ay , my good lord ; your royal preparation 
Makes us hear something .

Bring it after me .
I will not be afraid of death and bane 
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane .

Were I from Dunsinane away and clear ,
Profit again should hardly draw me here .

Cousins , I hope the days are near at hand 
That chambers will be safe .

We doubt it nothing .

What wood is this before us ?

The wood of Birnam .

Let every soldier hew him down a bough 
And bear 't before him : thereby shall we shadow 
The numbers of our host , and make discovery 
Err in report of us .

It shall be done .

We learn no other but the confident tyrant 
Keeps still in Dunsinane , and will endure 
Our setting down before 't .

'Tis his main hope ;
For where there is advantage to be given ,
Both more and less have given him the revolt ,
And none serve with him but constrained things 
Whose hearts are absent too .

Let our just censures 
Attend the true event , and put we on 
Industrious soldiership .

The time approaches 
That will with due decision make us know 
What we shall say we have and what we owe .
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate ,
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate ,
Towards which advance the war .


Hang out our banners on the outward walls ;
The cry is still , 'They come ;' our castle's strength 
Will laugh a siege to scorn ; here let them lie 
Till famine and the ague eat them up ;
Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours ,
We might have met them dareful , beard to beard ,
And beat them backward home .

What is that noise ?

It is the cry of women , my good lord .


I have almost forgot the taste of fears .
The time has been my senses would have cool'd 
To hear a night-shriek , and my fell of hair 
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir 
As life were in 't . I have supp'd full with horrors ;
Direness , familiar to my slaughterous thoughts ,
Cannot once start me .

Wherefore was that cry ?

The queen , my lord , is dead .

She should have died hereafter ;
There would have been a time for such a word .
To-morrow , and to-morrow , and to-morrow ,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day ,
To the last syllable of recorded time ;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death . Out , out , brief candle !
Life's but a walking shadow , a poor player 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage ,
And then is heard no more ; it is a tale 
Told by an idiot , full of sound and fury ,
Signifying nothing .

Thou com'st to use thy tongue ; thy story quickly .

Gracious my lord ,
I should report that which I say I saw ,
But know not how to do it .

Well , say , sir .

As I did stand my watch upon the hill ,
I look'd towards Birnam , and anon , methought ,
The wood began to move .

Liar and slave !

Let me endure your wrath if't be not so :
Within this three mile may you see it coming ;
I say , a moving grove .

If thou speak'st false ,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive ,
Till famine cling thee ; if thy speech be sooth ,
I care not if thou dost for me as much .
I pull in resolution and begin 
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend 
That lies like truth ; 'Fear not , till Birnam wood 
Do come to Dunsinane ;' and now a wood 
Comes toward Dunsinane . Arm , arm , and out !
If this which he avouches does appear ,
There is nor flying hence , nor tarrying here .
I 'gin to be aweary of the sun ,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone .
Ring the alarum-bell ! Blow , wind ! come , wrack !
At least we'll die with harness on our back .


Now near enough ; your leavy screens throw down ,
And show like those you are . You , worthy uncle ,
Shall , with my cousin , your right-noble son ,
Lead our first battle ; worthy Macduff and we 
Shall take upon 's what else remains to do ,
According to our order .

Fare you well .
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night ,
Let us be beaten , if we cannot fight .

Make all our trumpets speak ; give them all breath ,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death .


They have tied me to a stake ; I cannot fly ,
But bear-like I must fight the course . What's he 
That was not born of woman ? Such a one 
Am I to fear , or none .


What is thy name ?

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it .

No ; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name 
Than any is in hell .

My name's Macbeth .

The devil himself could not pronounce a title 
More hateful to mine ear .

No , nor more fearful .

Thou liest , abhorred tyrant ; with my sword 
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st .


Thou wast born of woman :
But swords I smile at , weapons laugh to scorn ,
Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born .

That way the noise is . Tyrant , show thy face :
If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine ,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still .
I cannot strike at wretched kerns , whose arms 
Are hir'd to bear their staves : either thou , Macbeth ,
Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge 
I sheathe again undeeded . There thou shouldst be ;
By this great clatter , one of greatest note 
Seems bruited . Let me find him , fortune !
And more I beg not .

This way , my lord ; the castle's gently render'd :
The tyrant's people on both sides do fight ;
The noble thanes do bravely in the war ;
The day almost itself professes yours ,
And little is to do .

We have met with foes 
That strike beside us .

Enter , sir , the castle .

Why should I play the Roman fool , and die 
On mine own sword ? whiles I see lives , the gashes 
Do better upon them .


Turn , hell-hound , turn !

Of all men else I have avoided thee :
But get thee back , my soul is too much charg'd 
With blood of thine already .

I have no words ;
My voice is in my sword , thou bloodier villain 
Than terms can give thee out !


Thou losest labour :
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air 
With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed :
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests ;
I bear a charmed life , which must not yield 
To one of woman born .

Despair thy charm ;
And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd 
Tell thee , Macduff was from his mother's womb 
Untimely ripp'd .

Accursed be that tongue that tells me so ,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man :
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd ,
That palter with us in a double sense ;
That keep the word of promise to our ear ,
And break it to our hope . I'll not fight with thee .

Then yield thee , coward ,
And live to be the show and gaze o' the time :
We'll have thee , as our rarer monsters are ,
Painted upon a pole , and underwrit ,
'Here may you see the tyrant .' 

I will not yield ,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet ,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse .
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane ,
And thou oppos'd , being of no woman born ,
Yet I will try the last : before my body 
I throw my war-like shield . Lay on , Macduff ,
And damn'd be him that first cries , 'Hold , enough !' 


I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd .

Some must go off ; and yet , by these I see ,
So great a day as this is cheaply bought .

Macduff is missing , and your noble son .

Your son , my lord , has paid a soldier's debt :
He only liv'd but till he was a man ;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd 
In the unshrinking station where he fought ,
But like a man he died .

Then he is dead ?

Ay , and brought off the field . Your cause of sorrow 
Must not be measur'd by his worth , for then 
It hath no end .

Had he his hurts before ?

Ay , on the front .

Why then , God's soldier be he !
Had I as many sons as I have hairs ,
I would not wish them to a fairer death :
And so , his knell is knoll'd .

He's worth more sorrow ,
And that I'll spend for him .

He's worth no more ;
They say , he parted well , and paid his score :
And so , God be with him ! Here comes newer comfort .


Hail , king ! for so thou art . Behold , where stands 
The usurper's cursed head : the time is free :
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl ,
That speak my salutation in their minds ;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine ;
Hail , King of Scotland !

Hail , King of Scotland !


We shall not spend a large expense of time 
Before we reckon with your several loves ,
And make us even with you . My thanes and kinsmen ,
Henceforth be earls , the first that ever Scotland 
In such an honour nam'd . What's more to do ,
Which would be planted newly with the time ,
As calling home our exil'd friends abroad 
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny ;
Producing forth the cruel ministers 
Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen ,
Who , as 'tis thought , by self and violent hands 
Took off her life ; this , and what needful else 
That calls upon us , by the grace of Grace 
We will perform in measure , time , and place :
So , thanks to all at once and to each one ,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone .