Act 4, Scene 1

Original Text

*Enter Edgar.* EDGAR. Yet better thus, and known to be contemned, Than still contemned and flattered, 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.

Modern English

*Edgar enters alone.* EDGAR. It's still better to be like this, openly despised, than to be despised while people flatter you to your face. When you've hit the absolute bottom of fortune, you can still hope — at least you've got nothing left to fear. The truly painful fall is from the top; from the bottom, the only direction is back up. So welcome, you empty air that I'm clutching at: the wretch you've blown down to rock bottom has nothing left for your storms to take.

Original Text

*Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Man.* 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.

Modern English

*Gloucester enters, led by an Old Man.* But who's this? My father, led around like a beggar? World, world, O world! If your cruel twists and turns didn't make us so bitter, we'd never accept growing old and dying.

Original Text

OLD MAN. O my good lord, I have been your tenant, And your father's tenant, these fourscore years. GLOUCESTER. Away, get thee away: good friend, be gone. Thy comforts can do me no good at all; Thee, they may hurt.

Modern English

OLD MAN. Oh my good lord, I've been your tenant, and your father's tenant, for eighty years. GLOUCESTER. Go away, leave me — good friend, be gone. Your kindness can't do me any good at all; it might bring trouble on you, though.

Original Text

OLD MAN. You cannot see your way. GLOUCESTER. 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. Oh 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.

Modern English

OLD MAN. You can't see the road. GLOUCESTER. I have no path to follow, so I don't need eyes; I tripped and fell when I could still see. It happens often — our advantages make us careless, and our very losses turn out to be blessings. Oh dear son Edgar, the victim of your deceived father's rage: if I could only live to feel your touch again, I'd say I had my eyes back.

Original Text

OLD MAN. How now? Who's there? EDGAR. *(aside)* O gods! Who is't can say I am at the worst? I am worse than e'er I was. OLD MAN. 'Tis poor mad Tom. EDGAR. *(aside)* And worse I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can say "this is the worst."

Modern English

OLD MAN. What's this? Who's there? EDGAR. *(aside)* Oh gods! Who can say they've seen the worst? I'm worse off now than I was before. OLD MAN. It's poor mad Tom. EDGAR. *(aside)* And it could still get worse: the worst hasn't come as long as we're still able to say "this is the worst."

Original Text

OLD MAN. Fellow, where goest? GLOUCESTER. Is it a beggar-man? OLD MAN. Madman, and beggar too.

Modern English

OLD MAN. You there, where are you going? GLOUCESTER. Is he a beggar? OLD MAN. A madman, and a beggar too.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I'th' 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 th' gods; They kill us for their sport.

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. He must have some wits left, or he couldn't beg. In last night's storm, I saw a fellow just like him; it made me think that a man is no more than a worm. My son came into my thoughts then, though at the time my mind was hardly on his side. I've learned more since then: we are to the gods as flies are to cruel boys; they kill us for fun.

Original Text

EDGAR. *(aside)* How should this be? Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Angering itself, and others. — Bless thee, master. GLOUCESTER. Is that the naked fellow? OLD MAN. Ay, my lord.

Modern English

EDGAR. *(aside)* How can I bear this? It's a wretched business, having to play the fool for grief, making everything worse — for myself and others. — God bless you, master. GLOUCESTER. Is that the naked fellow? OLD MAN. Yes, my lord.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. Get thee away: if for my sake Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain I'th' way toward Dover, do it for ancient love, And bring some covering for this naked soul, Which I'll entreat to lead me. OLD MAN. Alack, sir, he is mad.

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. Go on ahead — if you'll do me a kindness, catch up with us a mile or two from here on the road toward Dover. For old friendship's sake, bring some clothing for this poor naked soul; I'll ask him to guide me. OLD MAN. But sir, he's mad.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. 'Tis the time's plague, When madmen lead the blind. Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure: Above the rest, be gone. OLD MAN. I'll bring him the best apparel that I have, Come on't what will. *Exit.*

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. That's the curse of these times — when madmen lead the blind. Do as I ask, or do whatever you please; but either way, go now. OLD MAN. I'll bring him the best clothes I have, whatever comes of it. *He exits.*

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. Sirrah, naked fellow — EDGAR. Poor Tom's a-cold. *(aside)* I cannot daub it further. GLOUCESTER. Come hither, fellow. EDGAR. *(aside)* And yet I must. — Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. Hey — you, the naked fellow — EDGAR. Poor Tom's freezing. *(aside)* I can't keep up this act much longer. GLOUCESTER. Come here, fellow. EDGAR. *(aside)* And yet I have to. — God bless your poor eyes — they're bleeding.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. Know'st thou the way to Dover? EDGAR. Both stile, and gate; horseway, and footpath: poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend.

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. Do you know the way to Dover? EDGAR. Every stile and gate, every horse road and footpath — poor Tom's been scared out of his senses. God bless you, good sir, and protect you from the foul fiend.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. 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 does not feel, feel your power quickly: So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? EDGAR. Ay, master.

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. Here, take this purse — you, whom heaven's punishments have beaten down past caring: the fact that I'm miserable makes you luckier by comparison. Heaven always works this way: let the man who has too much, who gorges on his appetites, who ignores your laws, who won't see suffering because he doesn't feel it — let him feel your power soon. That way, the excess would be shared out, and every man would have enough. Do you know Dover? EDGAR. Yes, master.

Original Text

GLOUCESTER. 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. EDGAR. Give me thy arm; Poor Tom shall lead thee. *Exeunt.*

Modern English

GLOUCESTER. There's a cliff whose high, jutting edge looks terrifyingly down into the sea below. Just bring me to the very brink of it, and I'll make up for the hardship you've endured with something valuable I have on me. From that spot, I won't need anyone to lead me. EDGAR. Give me your arm; poor Tom will guide you. *They exit.*

King Lear

Act 4, Scene 1

Act 4, Scene 1