“When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.”
****Please accept my apologies as this post is still incomplete and currently “under construction”, but I have released it publicly pending further instalments being added in the coming months.
It seems abundantly clear, to this world-weary curmudgeon at least, that William Shakespeare’s classic play, after 400 years of slavish devotion from an ever dwindling band of followers and admirers, is somewhat overdue for a re-imagining, and to be preferably given a contemporary twist.
Instead of the mythological Leir (later popularised as King Lear by William Shakespeare) of pre Roman Britain (then known as “Albion“), we could perhaps juxtapose this fossilised remnant of his former vitality with his modern day political equivalent, who currently prevails as leader of the United States of America. This somewhat thankless task is undertaken notwithstanding an egregious level of polarisation that has riven that benighted nation since his ascent to power, giving lie to its very appellation, not to mention the intentions of its founding fathers.
In this dramatisation, we see the incumbent President of these thoroughly disunited states, analogous in so many respects to this fabled King of yore, in the role of the mythical King at a time when his former robust physical capacities and mental acuity, such as they were, are dwindling at an alarming rate. As a consequence, the King passes the baton to his direct line of succession, which has a less than auspicious set of accomplishments to recommend it.
What follows in the play below is part adaptation, part re-imagining, part lampoon and part political commentary, achieved by somewhat facetious and tangential analogy. So, we are thus transported to Albion, in the closing stages of King Lear’s long reign, where his once prosperous kingdom has fallen precipitously into chaos and disrepair. An increasingly clamorous peasant class is becoming ever more restless and closer to outright revolt against the King’s capriciousness, and the injustice being meted out in his name, and so it has now become inevitable that Lear should divide his kingdom amongst his children, so that they might assume control of his faltering legacy.
Dramatis Personae:
King Lear
Aged King who has ruled Albion for decades with an iron fist. When we first see King Lear, his discourse is peppered with various implausible confabulations drawn from a vast array of his vanishing recollections, and from self-serving half truths that over the years he has managed to embellish and embroider into the tapestry of his half remembered past. Presages and predispositions of his later insanity are manifest in his behaviour from the outset, a consequence of a long life led in an amorality of nature, a corruption of spirit and of malicious intent toward all but his immediate circle.
The play foreshadows the immaculate intellectual ruin that is to follow, where a constitutional rashness of temper and impatience, long enabled by the indulgences and flatteries of his various toadies and underlings, comes to the fore as the vicissitudes of age loosen the restraints of reason and judgement. Lear is oblivious to this decline in his faculties, but instead it is felt as a growing indisposition to the cares and labours inherent in the duties of his office.
His seat of power at Potomac Castle is situated within Catuvellauni tribal lands, although his ancestral home is found in a small seaside hamlet in the far flung West Country, known to the locals who frequent the region as Rehoboth ………….. Joseph Robinette Biden Jnr.
Goneril, younger son of King Lear
Second in the line of succession to the throne, the younger of King Lear’s sons has a chip on his shoulder a mile wide as a consequence. This resentment of his older, favoured sibling is sublimated into a dissolute lifestyle, cavorting regularly with a loose collection of prostitutes and lowlifes in the brothels and alehouses, where he could often be found half naked in a drunken stupor, or reeling under the mind-altering influence of henbane or mandrake root.
Goneril secretly exults in the decays and dilapidations of his “beloved” father, whilst often travelling abroad to ingratiate himself to the nobility in foreign kingdoms, currying favour through the peddling of influence over his father’s increasingly failing mental acuity. He knows that he can manipulate his father at will through hollow flattery, and hyperbolic soothings of his ego, or failing that to invoke the protective paternal instinct that King Lear frequently and blindly bestowed upon his sons, whether it be from intentions that are for good or ill ………….. Hunter Biden
Regan, first born son of King Lear
The favoured son of King Lear, and as a result the presumptive heir to the throne. Regan is comfortable in his own skin, in stark contrast to his wayward brother. He looks to emulate his father at every turn, with a mind to eventual ascendancy to the throne, whilst eventually coming to scorn his father’s increasing waywardness and loss of mental acuity.
Regan and his brother increasingly begin to actively seek reasons for goading and tormenting their father, and therefore will say anything, and do anything to pamper the personality flaws that prompt and justify their growing contempt for him ………………. Beau Biden
Cordelia, daughter of King Lear
King Lear’s only daughter, with whom he had a close bond from a young age. Cordelia had a special fondness for her father that allowed her to overlook his increasing propensity to memory lapses, gaffes and blunders, and the tendency to fly off in unexpected outbursts of anger and rage. The infirmities of her beloved and venerated father are things which she does not willingly see; but when she does see them, it invokes sympathy and understanding; and in a true filial spirit she never thinks of them other than as a motive for tenderness and respect. Out of her dutiful affection, she tries to assuage and defer his ill-temper with the calming speech of simple truth and compromise …………. Ashley Blazer Biden
Coriolis
Tribal leader of the Dobunni who is loyal to King Lear. He is an adulterer, having fathered an illegitimate son out of wedlock, and he fatally misjudges which of his two sons is more trustworthy, causing him to appear weak and ineffectual ………… Chuck Schumer
Edmund
Illegitimate, younger son of the loyalist tribal leader Coriolis. Edmund resents his lowly status as a bastard, and as a result he schemes to usurp Coriolis’ title and possessions from his favoured older brother, Edgar ……….. Adam Schiff
Edgar/Poor Tom
Coriolis’ older, legitimate son. Initially trusting to the point of gullibility of his younger brother, he soon dons the garb of a poor beggar to then eventually rise to the occasion to oppose his brother’s treasonous actions ………….. Joseph Manchin
Clematis
Wife of Goneril, the younger son of King Lear. Whilst initially acquiescing to her husband’s dissolute lifestyle and wayward behaviour, she is appalled at his betrayals, both of the King and at the tawdry affair shamelessly undertakes with his brother’s widow, Belerion ……… Kathleen Biden
Belerion
Wife of Regan, King Lear’s first born favoured son. Upon his untimely death, she enters into an illicit affair with her brother in law, Goneril, demonstrating that she clearly has the moral rectitude and impulse control of a half-starved alley cat ………… Hallie Biden
Lear’s Fool
King Lear’s court jester and constant companion, who often speaks in riddles, giving Lear her “sage” advice concealed inside nonsense songs and child-like rhymes ………….. Kamala Harris
Vercingetorix, King of the Gauls
Undisputed king of the Gaulish peoples, an ancient Celtic race renowned for their strength, bravery and light coloured hair, who comes to Albion to attempt to woo Cordelia, the unwed daughter of King Lear, in order to strengthen his allegiances in the face of a looming expansion of the Roman Empire ………… Donald J Trump
Divitiacus
Druid, and leader of the Aedui, a Gaulish tribe from the east, whose superficial affiliation with the other Gaulish tribes, hides their covert disdain for their Gaulish peers. He also comes, not coincidentally to Albion in order to seek the hand of the fair Cordelia, in direct competition with the nominal King of Gaul, whom he seeks to undermine at every turn ……….. Gavin Newsom
Regnus/Sulius
Loyal friend and advisor to King Lear. He is banished by Lear, but comes back in disguise in order to “serve” him. A Machiavellian manipulator of the highest order, Regnus can best be seen as the ultimate power behind the throne, having been the prime mover behind the instigation of many of Lear’s most flagrant and controversial decisions and decrees ………. Barack Hussein Obama
Oswald
Oswald is Goneril’s steward. A haughty fellow, he is all too willing to obey his master’s orders, and often treats King Lear and his men with little or no respect …………… Devon Archer
Old Crone
A tenant of Coriolis, who has been retained by Coriolis and his forebears over her entire life, over an eighty year time span ………….. Nancy Pelosi
Act 1 Scene 1:
[Scene: The Great Hall at Potomac Castle]
Narrator
King Lear has been the sovereign ruler of vast tracts of land across the length and breadth of Albion for several decades, having forged alliances with many of the powerful surrounding chieftains who were happy to be subsumed under his overriding rule. Potomac castle, his seat of power, sits high atop a prominent hill in the heart of Catuvellauni lands and cuts an awe-inspiring silhouette on the landscape, projecting the overwhelming power and influence of King Lear and his ideological allies upon those who dwell in its environs.
In the third decade of his rule, King Lear had begun to lose enthusiasm for the onerous responsibilities of rule, and his waning physical capacities brought the realisation that planning for the ultimate distribution of his kingdom amongst his heirs was becoming an increasingly imminent priority for the ongoing vitality of his kingly legacy. And so we venture to the Great Oval Hall of Potomac Castle, where King Lear has summoned the main members of the royal court, for a meeting alleged to be of “great importance”. Rumours abound, all around the corridors of Potomac castle, that this meeting would ultimately decide the division of his kingdom amongst Lear’s motley crew of heir apparents.
Enter Regnus, Coriolis and Edmund
Regnus
I had thought the King hadst more affection
For noble Regan than for Goneril.
Coriolis
Didst always seemeth thus to me, milord,
But now in this division of his Kingdom,
It appears that ’tis not mere affection,
As equalities are so duly weighed,
But in his choice Lear valueth fawning,
Preening and flattery more than fealty!
Regnus (cynically)
Never underestimate this old King’s
Great aptness for sublime ineptitude!
(Casting his eyes askance at Coriolis’ companion)
Is this lad not thy cherished son, milord?
Coriolis
His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge,
Yet, I’ve oft blushed to acknowledge him thus.
Regnus
I canst not conceive thee.
Coriolis
This young fellow’s mother grew round-wombed,
And had, indeed, a son for her cradle
Ere she e’en had a husband for her bed!
Dost thou see the manifest of my fault?
Regnus
I canst not wish thy fault being undone,
The issue of it being so proper.
Coriolis
But I have, sir, a son by order of law
Some year older than this young stripling,
Who yet is no dearer in my account!
(cheekily)
Though this knave came something saucily
Into the world before he was sent for,
Yet was his mother fair: Assuredly
There was good sport in the making!
And the whoreson shalt be acknowledg’d.
(pauses)
Dost thou knoweth this gentleman, Edmund?
Edmund
No, my lord.
Coriolis
This is Regnus, my honourable friend.
Remember him hereafter as a man
Whose honour and integrity, my son,
Are beyond any semblance of reproach.
Edmund
My services to your lordship.
Regnus
I must love thee, and sue to know thee better.
Edmund
Sir, I shall study deserving.
Coriolis (hearing the flourish of trumpets)
Ah, the King has arrived.
Sennet. Enter King Lear, Goneril, Regan, Belerion, Clematis, Cordelia, and Attendants.
Narrator
As King Lear, in full regalia, ascended the stairs at the entry to the Great Oval Hall, he was seen to stumble on several occasions in succession, until finally his attendants stepped in to help him to his feet, and then to guide him safely up the remaining steps to his destination.
After having blurted out a torrent of expletives in response to his misadventure, the King was soon heard regaling these same attendants with the various exploits of his youth, at least as he had chosen to remember them. Lear’s attendants were indeed no strangers to these near daily flights of half-remembered fancy, where the King would spin various tales of far flung tribes by whom he alleged to have been raised, or exaggerated exploits on the field of battle, or the honours he was reputed to have earned in his youth; deeds that all and sundry knew full well had never even remotely happened in reality.
Eventually, the King turned his vivid, and overactive imagination to an entirely new anecdote that he only now recalled from days long past, which he then proceeded to recite chapter and verse in mock heroic style, as various eyes rolled in unison around the room.
King Lear
In Wilming Town, where I didst cut my teeth,
I stood by the pond that lay on the heath.
A cad named Cornpoppus, a rusty blade,
Challenged me once, our tensions displayed.
Said I, “Esther, giveth me that chain,
To straighten things out, wilt not be in vain.”
Cornpoppus backed down, we made our amends,
Through my words and wit, we became firm friends.
So endeth this tale of days seldom told,
A lesson learned, of my courage so bold!
(Having eventually returned to the here and now after finishing his “larger than life”, if not fanciful anecdote, King Lear turned to address Coriolis)
Attend the Gaulish King, and the Druid,
Noble Coriolis.
Coriolis
I shall, milord!
(Exit Coriolis)
King Lear (gesturing to an attendant)
Meantime, we shall express our darker purpose.
Give me the map! (He is handed a map)
-Know that we have divided
In three our kingdom, and ‘tis our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age,
(With a mere one part in ten then retained
To thus sustain me in my twilight years)
Conferring them on younger strengths while we,
Unburdened, stumble and crawl toward death.
We have this hour a constant will to publish,
With my sons and daughter, plus their wives and suitors
To reckon with, to thus avert future strife.
(Pauses)
The two noblemen, Gaul and Bibracte,
Great rivals in our youthful daughter’s love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answered.
Tell me, my loyal sons and kind daughter,
Since now we will divest us both of rule,
Int’rest 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?
Regan, our eldest born, speakest thou first.
Regan (waxing lyrical to the point of hyperbole)
Sir,
I love thee more than words can wield the matter.
Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour.
As much as child e’er loved, or father found.
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable.
Cordelia (aside, under her breath)
What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.
King Lear (to Regan, pointing to his map)
Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champains riched,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lord. To thine and Clematis’ issue
Be this perpetual.- What says our second son,
Our dearest, Goneril?
Goneril (not to be outdone)
I am made of that self mettle as my brother,
And prize me at his worth. In my true heart
I find he names my very deed of love:
Only he comes too short, that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys
Which the most precious square of sense possesses,
And I find I am alone felicitate
In your dear Highness’ love.
Cordelia (again, aside under her breath)
Then poor Cordelia!
And yet not so, since I am sure my love’s
More ponderous than my tongue.
King Lear (to Goneril)
To thee and thine hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,
No less in space, validity, and pleasure
Than that conferred upon Regan.- Now, our joy,
Although our last and least, to whose young love
The vines of Gaul and milk of Bibracte
Strive to be interessed; what canst thou say to draw
A third more opulent than thy brothers? Speak.
Whilst he was speaking, King Lear had begun creeping around the table to stand directly behind his daughter Cordelia, and was now leaning ominously over her, nuzzling her neck and sniffing and caressing her long, lustrous locks of auburn hair.
Cordelia (Somewhat perturbed by her father’s lurking presence behind her)
Nothing, my lord.
King Lear
Nothing shall come of nothing. Speak again!
Cordelia
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty
According to my bond, no more no less.
King Lear (recoiling, and clearly affronted)
How, how, Cordelia? Mend thy speech a little,
Lest thee may mar thy fortunes.
Cordelia (resolute)
Good, my lord. Mayest I in plainness speak?
Thou hast begot me, bred me, and loved me.
I return those duties back as are right fit:
Obey thee, love thee and most honour thee.
(Pauses)
Why do my brothers have wives if they say
They love thee 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 brothers,
To love my father all.
King Lear (horrified at his daughter’s apparent disdain)
But goes thy heart with this?
Cordelia (defiant)
It does, my good lord.
King Lear
So young, and so untender?
Cordelia
So young, my lord, and true.
King Lear (now bristling with rage)
Let it be so! Thy “truth”, then, be thy dower,
For by the second radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecate and the night,
By all the operations of the orbs
For whom we do exist and cease to be,
Here I disclaim all paternal care,
Propinquity, and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me,
Hold thee from this forever. The barbarous Scythian
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighboured, pitied, and relieved
As thou my sometime daughter!
Regnus (trying in vain to interject with a voice of reason)
Good my liege………………
King Lear
Peace, Regnus!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath!
I loved her most, shower’d her with affection,
And thought to set my rest on her kind nursery.
(Turns to Cordelia)
Hence and avoid my sight!
So be my grave my peace as here I take
Her loving father’s hardened heart from her!
Call the King of Gaul and the Aedui Druid!
(An Attendant Exits)
The endowment to my two loyal sons
Shalt my faithless daughter’s dower digest.
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
Preeminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty. Ourself by monthly course,
With reservation of a hundred nights
By you to be sustained, 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,
Belovèd sons, be yours, which to confirm,
This coronet part between you.
Regnus (kneeling before Lear, trying in vain to intercede with a voice of reason)
Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honoured as my King,
Loved as my father, as my master followed,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers—
King Lear (looking down on the kneeling Regnus)
The bow is bent and drawn. Make from the shaft.
Regnus
Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
The tender region of my loyal heart.
Be Regnus ill-mannered when Lear is mad?
Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak
When power to hollow flattery bows?
To plainness honour is more tightly bound
When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state,
And in thy best consideration check
This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds
Reverb no hollowness.
King Lear
Regnus, on thy life no more!
Regnus
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine mortal enemies.
Nor dost I fear timidly to lose it,
Thy safety being my only motive.
King Lear
Begone, knave!
Regnus
See better, Lear, and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.
King Lear
O vassal! Miscreant!
Clematis (interjecting in defence of Regnus)
Dear sir, forebear.
Regnus
Kill thy physician, and thy 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. C’mon man!
King Lear
Here thee, recreant; on thine allegiance, hear me!
That thou hast sought to make us break our vows-
Which we durst never yet-and with strained prie
To come betwixt our sentence and our power,
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,
Our potency made good, take thy reward:
Five days we do allot thee for provision
To shield thee from disasters of the world,
And on the sixth turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom. If on the tenth day following
Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions,
That moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter,
This shall not be revoked.
Regnus
Fare thee well, King. Sith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
(to Cordelia)
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
That justly think’st and hast most rightly said.
(To Goneril and Regan)
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
That good effects may spring from words of love.
(He exits)
Flourish. Enter Coriolis with Vercingetorix and Divitiacus, and Attendants.
Coriolis
Herewith, upon thine indulgence, my lord,
The noble lords of Gaul and Bibracte.
King Lear
My lord of Bibracte, noble Druid,
We must first address to thee, who with this King
(gestures toward Vercingetorix, the King of Gaul)
Hath rivalled for our daughter. What in the least
Shalt thee require in present dower with her
Or cease thy quest of her love?
Divitiacus
Most royal Majesty,
I crave no more than hath your Highness offered,
Nor wilt thee tender less.
King Lear
Right noble Divitiacus,
When she was dear to us, we didst hold her so,
But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands.
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced
And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,
She’s there, and she is yours.
Divitiacus
I know no answer.
King Lear
Wilt thou, 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?
Divitiacus
Pardon me, royal sir,
Election makes not up in such conditions!
King Lear
Then leave her, sir, for by the power that made me
I tell thee all her wealth- (turning to Vercingetorix)
For you, great King,
I wouldst not from thy love make such a stray
To match thee where I hate! Thus beseech thee
T’avert thy liking a more worthy way
Than on a wretch whom Nature is ashamed
Almost t’acknowledge hers.
Vercingetorix
This is most strange,
That she whom e’en now was thy best object,
The argument of thy praise, balm of thine age,
The best, the dearest, shouldst in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle
So many folds of favour. Sure her offense
Must be of some unnatural degree
That monsters it, or thy forevouch’d affection
Fall into taint; which to believe of her
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me.
Cordelia (to her father Lear)
I yet beseech your Majesty-
If I want for that glib and oily art
To speak and purpose not, since what I (well) intend
I’ll do’t before I speak- that thee make known
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste action or dishonoured step
That hath deprived me of thy 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 thy liking.
King Lear
Better that thou hadst not ever been born
Than not t’have pleased me better, Cordelia!
Vercingetorix
Is it but this- a tardiness in nature
Which often leaves the history unspoke
That it intends to do?- Divitiacus,
What say thee to the lady? Love’s not love
When it is mingled with regards that stands
Aloof from th’entire point. Wilt thou have her?
She herself is a dowry.
Divitiacus (to Lear)
Royal King,
Give but that portion which thou hast proposed,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand.
King Lear
Nothing. I have sworn. I am firm in my resolve.
Divitiacus (to Cordelia)
I am sorry, then, thou hast lost a father
That thou must lose a husband.
Cordelia
Peace be with noble Divitiacus!
Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
Vercingetorix
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
Be it lawful I take up what’s cast away.
Gods! ‘Tis strange that from their coldest neglect
My love should kindle to inflamed respect.
Thy dowerless daughter, King, thrown to my chance
Is Queen of us, of ours, and our fair lands.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here, a better where to find.
King Lear
Thou hast her, Gaul: let her be thine; for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall we ever see
That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
Without our grace, our love, our benison.
Come, noble Divitiacus.
Flourish. Exeunt all but Vercingetorix, Cordelia, Regan and Goneril.
Vercingetorix
Bid farewell to thy brothers.
Cordelia
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 named. 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.
Regan
Prescribe not us our duties.
Goneril
Let thou study
Be to content thy lord, who hath received thee
At fortune’s alms. Thou hast obedience scanted
And well are worth the want that thou hast wanted.
Cordelia
Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper.
Vercingetorix
Come, my fair Cordelia.
Exeunt Vercingetorix and Cordelia
Goneril
Brother,
It is not a little I have to say
Of what most nearly appertains to us both.
I think our father will hence to-night.
Regan
That’s most certain, and with you; next month with us.
(rubbing his forehead)
My head splits at the very thought of it!
Goneril
You see how full of changes his age is;
The observation we’ve made of it hath
Not been little: His fits of ill-temper,
Rambling dissertations leading to nought,
And endless, distorted confabulations
From a half-recollected, exalted past.
Regan
He always loved our sister most of all;
And with what poor judgment he hath just now
Cast her off, which didst appear too grossly.
Goneril
‘Tis the infirmity of his age: Yet
He hath ever but slenderly known himself.
Regan (still holding his head in his hand)
The soundest of his time hath been but rash;
Then must we look to receive from his age,
Not alone the vulgar imperfections
Of long-engraffed condition, but therewithal
The unruly and reckless waywardness
That infirm and choleric years bring with them.
Goneril
Our King’s pitiful missteps hath been dire!
I’the Bosporan realm our dealings were spoil’d.
Our allies in those far Scythian outposts,
With cowardice, so swiftly abandon’d.
These actions of mental decline are proof,
His fall so stark, and reason in tatters.
Our kingdom’s ruin, wrapped in his despair,
His whims be a burden most unwelcome.
Regan
Such unconstant starts are we to have from him
Just as this of Regnus’ banishment.
Goneril
There is further compliment of leave-taking
Between the King of Gaul and our father,
Prithee, let’s sit together. If our father
Carry authority with such dispositions as he bears,
This last surrender of his well may offend us.
Regan
We shall further think on ’t.
Goneril
We must do something, and i’ th’ heat.
Act 1 Scene 2:
(Another Chamber in Potomac Castle)
Narrator
Somewhat taken aback by the events of the day, Coriolis had gone for a walk around the grounds of Potomac castle to collect his thoughts over all that had just transpired, whilst Edmund retired to one of the various halls of the castle where he began, away from prying eyes, to compose a missive which he hoped would falsely, and ever so subtly incriminate his brother Edgar in a plot against his father.
Edmund (writing feverishly)
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?
Why “bastard”? Why am I “base” regarded?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true
As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they thus?
Who, in 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!
(finishing his letter with a flourish)
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!
(Enter Coriolis)
Coriolis
Regnus banish’d! Gaul in choler parted!
And the King gone tonight! Prescrib’d his pow’r!
Confin’d to exhibition! All this done
Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! What news?
Edmund
So please your lordship- none.
(putting up the letter)
Coriolis
Why seek thee so earnestly to put up that letter?
Edmund
I know no news, my lord.
Coriolis
What paper wert thou reading?
Edmund
Nothing, my lord.
Coriolis
No? What needed then that terrible dispatch
Of it into thy pocket? The quality
Of nothing hath not such need to hide itself.
Let’s see. Come, if it indeed be nothing,
I shalt not even need my spectacles.
Edmund
I beseech thee, father, please pardon me.
It is a letter from my brother that
I have not yet all o’er read,
And for as much as I have perus’d,
I find it not fit for your o’erlooking
Coriolis
Give me the letter, sir!
Edmund
I shall offend, either to detain or give it.
The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.
I hope, for my brother’s justification, that
He wrote this but as an essay, or a taste of my virtue.
Coriolis (reading)
<<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 EDGAR.>>
Conspiracy?
My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this?
A heart and brain to breed it in?
When came this to you? Who brought it?
Edmund
It was not brought me, my lord, there’s the cunning of it.
I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.
Coriolis
You know the character to be your brother’s?
Edmund
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.
Coriolis (with an air of resignation)
It is his.
Edmund
It is his hand, my lord;
But I hope his heart is not in the contents.
Coriolis
Hath he never before sounded you in this business?
Edmund
Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft 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.
Coriolis (incandescent with rage at such a vile betrayal)
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?
Edmund
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 should 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.
Coriolis
Think you so?
Edmund
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.
Coriolis
He cannot be such a monster!
Edmund
Nor is not, sure.
Coriolis
To his father, that so tenderly 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 due resolution.
Edmund
I will seek him, sir, presently:
Convey the business as I shall find means,
And acquaint you withal.
Coriolis
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
‘Twixt 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 Regnus banished!
His offense, honesty! ‘Tis strange indeed. (Exits)
Edmund
This is the excellent foppery of the world,
That we are sick in fortune (often the surfeits
of our own behaviour) we make guilty of our disasters;
The sun, the moon, and stars, as if we were villains
On 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 divine thrusting on.
An admirable evasion of whore-master man,
To lay his goatish disposition on the change 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 that I am rough and lecherous.
<Fut!> I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star
In the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
(Enter Edgar)
……….. And pat! he comes,
Like the catastrophe of the old comedy.
My cue is villainous melancholy,
With a sigh like Tom o’Bedlam.
O, these eclipses do portend these divisions!
Fa, sol, la, mi.
Edgar
How now, brother Edmund?
What serious contemplation art thou in?
Edmund
I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
This other day, what should follow these eclipses.
Edgar
Dost thee busy thyself with that?
Edmund
I promise thee, 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, the menaces and
Maledictions against King and nobles;
Needless diffidences, banishment of friends,
Dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches,
And I know not what.
Edgar
How long hast thee been a sectary astronomical?
Edmund
Come, come! When saw thou my father last?
Edgar
The night gone by.
Edmund
Spake thee with him?
Edgar
Ay, two hours together.
Edmund
Parted thee in good terms? Found thee no
Displeasure in him by word or countenance.
Edgar
None at all.
Edmund
Bethink thyself wherein thou mayest have offended him;
And at my entreaty forbear his presence
Until 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.
Edgar
Some villain hath done me wrong.
Edmund
That’s my fear. I pray thou hast 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 thee to hear my lord speak.
Pray ye, go! There’s my key. If thou dost stir abroad, go arm’d.
Edgar
Arm’d, brother?
Edmund
Brother, I advise thee to the best. Go arm’d.
I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward thee.
I have told thee what I have seen and heard;
But faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it.
Pray thee, away!
Edgar
Shall I hear from thee anon?
Edmund
I do serve thee in this business.
(Exit Edgar)
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.
Act 1 Scene 3:
(Kalorama Hall)
Narrator:
Kalorama Hall is the isolated redoubt of the noble lord known as Regnus, King Lear’s erstwhile special adviser, who had just made the seemingly fatal mistake of defending Cordelia against her father’s unreasoning and unreasonable wrath.
Regnus is seen pacing back and forth in the glow of his stately home’s open fireplace, with thoughts racing through his mind whilst mulling over any one of several potential courses of action that he might need to undertake to retain the level of influence, and therefore vicarious power, that he had once so readily enjoyed in Lear’s kingdom.
His devoted manservant, a broad shouldered and swarthy gentleman of somewhat exotic lineage known as Michael, stood silently to one side of the hearth, observing him impassively but at the ready in an instant to offer his master Regnus any and all support he might require. Michael has been Regnus’ retainer, cook and equerry for nigh on 20 years, giving his master every conceivable form of loyal service, with a level of dutifulness and subservience far above the norm for a mere household servant.
In spite of his outwardly impassive expression, Michael could not help but be concerned for the predicament in which his master had now found himself, but felt powerless to intercede on his behalf. Instead, he stood in a dignified silence awaiting instructions from his lord and master.
Regnus
My dearest Michael, ever true and sweet,
I find myself much vexed, unsure, and lost,
Seeking the path that leads back to Lear’s throne,
Exiled, despite years of faithful service!
In counsel, striving to impart wisdom,
Yet met with cold indifference in return.
A foolish king, unworldly in his ways,
Has cast me out, by cruel twist of fate.
Michael
Is there anything I can do, milord?
Regnus
Michael, prepare a bath for me with care,
Whilst I ponder plans for deeds forthcoming.
In the warmth of water’s gentle embrace,
To contemplate the future, seek my way.
Regaining the ear of this aged King,
Requires a deceit of grace and cunning.
Michael
Of course, milord
Narrator
Michael, the ever dutiful manservant, took himself back and forth to the well in the courtyard, bringing back buckets full of water to fill the large clay bath that Regnus had had specially made (by King Lear’s best potters and craftsmen). He filled a cauldron on the fire with several buckets of water, and whilst awaiting it to boil, came back to his master to help him disrobe. Michael then rubbed Regnus’ body with fragrant oils in preparation for his bath, massaging it vigorously into every tired and aching sinew.
Once the water had boiled, Micheal meticulously prepared the water to the optimum temperature, and returned the remaining water to the fire to replenish as desired. He then helped Regnus into the bath where, once his master was relaxed and comfortably ensconced in the warm and soothing waters, Michael proceeded to rub him down, firstly with a sand and vegetable oil combination, followed by a mild and soothing beeswax soap to cleanse and moisturise his body from top to toe.
Whilst Michael was toiling away at his task in serving so diligently his master, Regnus began to formulate the kernel of an idea as to how he might return, incognito, into the King’s good graces.
Regnus (eyes closed, clearly enjoying the sensual experience of Michael’s insistent and vigorous touch)
To guide a king, whose mind doth wane and fade,
Shalt but require a mask of servitude,
To hide the truth behind a loyal guise.
It wouldst need a heart steadfast and ruthless,
To adopt a cloak of trust, to subvert
An aged King, bedecked in foolish ways.
His feeble mind, by my suggestions led,
A puppet to my subtle, unseen ploys.
Michael (approvingly)
Through artful words, thy cunning plan fulfils.
Through sage counsel, the strings of power sway,
Where thy puppet shall soon become entwined,
And then the marionette shall perform
A dance of shadows in thy grand charade.
Narrator
Once Regnus had bathed thoroughly to his satisfaction, and content with the scheme that had coalesced so vividly in his mind, his lordship then alighted from his bath, whereupon Michael dutifully and vigorously rubbed him down until he was thoroughly dry. Then, Michael sprayed his master’s naked body with various exotic fragrances, and clothed him in a tunic of the finest white muslin cloth, an indulgent garment smuggled in for his lordship, at great expense, from the Near East.
He then began rifling through his extensive wardrobe, looking for suitable attire for a disguise that would allow him to re-enter the Royal Court incognito. Finding nothing that sufficiently disguised his appearance, he turned his attention to Michael’s limited line of clothing, eventually setting himself upon Michael’s most well worn peasant clothes. Regnus shaved off his beard and, taking some char from the fireplace, applied it to his face, neck and hands to darken his skin, whilst applying a poultice of peat to the bridge of his nose. Soon his appearance was completely transformed, until he was barely recognisable as the noble lord he once was.
Michael (with wonder at the finished product)
Thou art transformed, milord, into the shape,
The very model of a lowly servant.
Regnus
These garments abolish all I once was,
Yet beneath their folds, hides my dark purpose.
My plan’s fruition shall make the king lament.
As I guide his realm to meet its destiny.
Michael (beaming with pride and admiration)
Now prepared for thy courtly masquerade,
I pray that God shalt ensure thy safety.
Regnus (fondly caressing Michael’s cheek)
Dearest friend, fear not for my security,
My web of schemes shalt not ensnare me.
Narrator
The two men embraced heartily, kissed each other on either cheek , and wished each other well before Regnus, in disguise, set off for Potomac castle, where he hoped to inveigle himself once again into Lear’s inner circle. Fortunately, Regnus was well aware of a severe shortage of servants amongst King Lear’s retinue, due largely to the King’s recent paranoia and increasingly frequent fits of uncontrolled rage. An opening was sure to present itself, and thus it was with some confidence that Regnus set upon the task at hand on his journey back to his rightful place at Lear’s right hand.
Act 1 Scene 4:
(Burisma Palace)
Narrator
After the shock announcement of the dispersal of his Kingdom, King Lear soon made good on his promise (or was that a threat?) to make his abode by monthly course with each of his two sons in turn, and with a retinue of one hundred knights in tow. Lear had originally planned to spend the first month with the favoured first born son, but Regan had been unexpectedly taken ill and was bed bound with blinding headaches, and had thus begged his father’s indulgence in spending the first monthly sojourn with the younger brother, Goneril, at his Burisma palace. The palace was situated in the wild Dobunni borderland plains, at the foot of Black Mountain, an imposing peak which rose high above the Neper River valley.
Upon Lear’s arrival at Burisma Palace, the former King had launched into one of his trademark tirades, hurling abuse at one of Goneril’s most trusted attendants, then striking him in a fit of rage at a trifling perceived slight directed at the King’s fool. News of this latest outburst was soon relayed to the master of the house, who was clearly not amused.
(Enter Goneril, and his steward Oswald)
Goneril
Did my father just strike my gentleman
For the chiding of his fool?
Oswald
Ay, milord.
Goneril
By day and night, he wrongs me! Every hour
He flashes into some 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.
(Horns within)
Oswald
He’s coming, milord. I hear him.
Goneril
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 our brother,
Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,
Not to be overrul’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 checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus’d.
Remember what I have said.
Oswald
Very well, milord.
Goneril
And let his knights have colder looks among you.
What grows 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 course. Prepare for dinner.
(Exeunt)
Act 1 Scene 5:
(A reception hall in Burisma Palace)
(Enter Regnus, in disguise, now calling himself Sulius)
Sulius (Regnus)
If but as well I other accents borrow,
That can my speech defuse, my sole intent
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish’d Regnus,
If thou canst “serve” where thou dost stand condemn’d,
So may it come, thy master, whom thou despiseth,
Shall find thee full of labours.
(Horns within, Enter King Lear with Knights and Attendants)
Lo! Here cometh that light of other days,
Who once aspired so high, yet stooped so low!
King Lear (barking out orders to his Attendants)
C’mon man!
Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready.
(Exit two Attendants)
(Lear’s attention is drawn to the slightly shabby figure standing before him)
How now. What art thou?
Sulius (Regnus)
A man, sir.
King Lear
What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?
Sulius (Regnus)
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.
King Lear
What art thou?
Sulius (Regnus)
A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.
King Lear
If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a
King, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?
Sulius (Regnus)
Service.
King Lear
Who wouldst thou serve?
Sulius (Regnus)
Thee.
King Lear
Dost thou know me, fellow?
Sulius (Regnus)
No, sir; but thou hast that in thy countenance
Which I would fain call master.
King Lear
What’s that?
Sulius (Regnus)
Authority.
King Lear
What services canst thou do?
Sulius (Regnus)
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.
(Pauses, pondering further)
I canst well engage peasant and chieftain alike,
Mold them to thy will with my subtle arts and guile.
I wouldst discharge any task, in fealty to thee,
That are conjured in fast and furious imaginings.
King Lear (duly impressed by this articulate stranger, whom he thought had the makings of a valuable ally)
How old art thou, stranger?
Sulius (Regnus)
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.
King Lear
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.
(Exit an Attendant)
(Enter Oswald)
You, you, underling! Where is my son?
Oswald (with an insolent mocking tone)
So please you…….
(Exits)
King Lear
What says that fellow there? Call that clotpoll back!
(Exit a Knight)
Where’s my fool, ho? I think the world’s asleep
(Re-enter Knight)
How now! Where is that mongrel?
Knight
He says that thy son is not well, milord.
King Lear
Why came not the slave back to me when I called him?
Knight
Sir, he answered me, in the roundest manner, he would not.
King Lear
He would not!
Knight
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 Prince himself.
(Pauses)
I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken;
For my duty cannot be silent when I think your
Highness wronged.
King Lear
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 her this two days.
Knight
Since my young lady’s going to France, sir,
The fool hath much pined away.
King Lear
No more of that; I have noted it well.
Go you, and tell my son I would speak with him!
(Exit Attendant)
Go you, call hither my fool.
(Exit another Attendant)
(Re-enter Oswald)
Listen, Jack! Come you hither, man!
Who am I, sir?
Oswald (dismissively)
Thou art my lord’s father.
King Lear
‘My lord’s father’! My lord’s knave:
Your whoreson dog! You slave! You cur!
Oswald
I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.
King Lear (enraged)
Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
(Striking him)
Oswald
I’ll not be struck, my lord.
Sulius (Regnus) (seeing his cue for action)
Nor tripped neither, you base football player!
(Tripping him over)
King Lear
I thank thee, fellow; Thou servest me, and I’ll
love thee.
Sulius (Regnus) (seizing the moment)
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; So.
(Pushing Oswald out the doorway roughly)
King Lear
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee:
There’s earnest of thy service.
(Lear tries to give Regnus a payment of 7 pieces of silver for his services)
Sulius (Regnus) (declining to take the offer)
Showing him the door was payment enough, milord.
(Enter the Fool)
Fool (offering Regnus her coxcomb, having just witnessed his rejection of Lear’s payment)
Mayhaps I should present thee with my coxcomb
For thou art foolish if thou dost not agree
That filthy lucre, when it’s freely proffered,
Is how the wheels of courtly process turn.
In greasing palms, we find the realm’s true wealth,
Where coin and favour intertwine as one.
Sulius (Regnus) (hiding his disdain in feigned jocularity)
Thou art indeed the perfect fool, and foil
For our most noble majesty, the King.
A word of caution to thy tale wouldst be:
“Many a true word is spoken in jest”.
King Lear
How now, my pretty knave!
(leaning over her, sniffing her hair)
How dost thou?
Fool (slipping away from her master’s grasp, to address Regnus)
Thou shouldst take my coxcomb nonetheless, sir,
That thou shouldst wear the crown worthy of thee!
(Pointing to the King)
Why, this fellow has banished his daughter,
And gave his sons the keys to his Kingdom;
If thou follow him, thou needs wear my coxcomb.
King Lear (slightly miffed, but playing along)
Take heed, sirrah; the whip!
Fool
Truth’s a dog, that must to kennel:
He must be cruelly whipped out,
Whilst the Bitch may stand by the fire and stink.
King Lear
A pestilent gall to me!
Fool
Sirrah, I’ll teach you a speech:
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!“
Sulius (Regnus)
This is less than nothing, fool!
Fool
Then ’tis like the breath of an unfee’d lawyer;
Thou gavest me nothing of value for’t.
Can thou maketh no use of nothing, nuncle?
King Lear
Why, no, girl; Nothing can be made of nothing.
Fool (to Regnus)
Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of
His land comes to: he will not believe a fool.
King Lear (mildly annoyed, having been hit to close to home)
A bitter fool!
Fool
That lord that counsell’d you
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,
Do you for him stand:
The sweet and bitter fool
Will presently appear;
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.
King Lear
Doth thou call me a fool, girl?
Fool
All your other titles you have given away;
That you were born with.
Sulius (Regnus)
This is not altogether fool, my lord.
Fool
(Singing)
“Fools had ne’er less wit in a year;
For wise men are grown foppish,
They know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.”
King Lear
When wert thou wont to be so full of songs?
Fool
I have used it, nuncle, ever since you madest
Your sons into fathers: for when you gavest them
The rod, and put’st down thine own breeches!
(Singing)
“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 keep a schoolmaster that can teach
Thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie.
King Lear
An thou liest, sirrah. We’ll have thee whipped!
Fool
I marvel what kin you and your sons are:
They’ll have me whipped for speaking true,
You’ll 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 you, nuncle;
You have pared your wit o’ both sides, and
Left nothing i’ the middle……………
(Pauses)
Here comes one o’ the parings.
(Enter Goneril, naked and clearly intoxicated, with a bevvy of naked harlots in tow)
King Lear
How now, son. What is the meaning of this?
Methinks thou’st much bespoilt thy person!
C’mon man!
Fool (to Goneril)
Thy face bids me to hold my tongue, milord.
(Singing)
“Mum, mum,
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall ere want some.“
Goneril (slurring his words, still kissing and fondling the naked harlots draped on either side of him)
Not only, sir, this your all-licensed 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.
King Lear
Are you our son?
Fool
For, you trow, nuncle,
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it’s had it head bit off by it young.
So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
Goneril (ignoring the Fool’s impertinent commentary)
Come, sir,
I would you would make use of that good wisdom,
Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away
These dispositions, that of late transform you
From what you rightly are.
King Lear
Doth any here know me? This is not Lear?
Doth 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?
Fool
Lear’s shadow.
King Lear
I would learn that; for, by the
Marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason,
I should be false persuaded I had sons!
Fool
Which they will make an obedient father.
Goneril (without a hint of irony, or self-awareness)
This admiration, sir, is much o’ the savour
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
To understand my purposes aright:
As you are old and reverend, you 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 graced palace. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy: be then desired
By him, that else will take the thing he begs,
A little to disquantity your train;
And the remainder, that shall still depend,
To be such men as may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.
King Lear
Darkness and devils!
Saddle my horses; call my train together:
Degenerate bastard! I’ll not trouble thee.
Yet have I left another son.
Goneril
You strike my people; and your disorder’d rabble
Make servants of their betters.
(Enter Clematis)
King Lear
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend!
Is that your will? Speak, sir!- Prepare my horses!
Clematis (attempting to play peacemaker)
Pray, sir, be patient.
King Lear (to Goneril)
Detested kite! Thou liest.
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know.
(Lear strikes his head repeatedly with his hand)
Beat at this gate that let this folly in
And thy judgement out. Go, go, my people.
(Some Exit)
Goneril
My lord. I am guiltless as I am ignorant
Of what hath moved you to this eruption.
King Lear
Your spouse parades his vice before your eyes,
Inebriate amidst the harlots’ cheer,
Yet silence reigns, no protest dost thou raise.
His father, he scorns with callous disdain,
A mockery he makes of our concordance,
Disdaining gifts of shared dominion’s seal.
Upon the flimsiest cause, I’m thus abhorred,
And cast to the winds, a fate undeserved.
(to Goneril)
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is,
To have such a dissolute, thankless child!
I tell thee, Life and Death, I am ashamed
That thou hast power to shake our 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 thee out
And cast thee, with the waters that you loose,
To temper clay. ⟨Yea, is ’t come to this?⟩
Ha! Let it be so. I have another son
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable.
When he shall hear this of thee, with his fists
He’ll pound thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
That I’ll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off forever.
(Exits, with Regnus following)
Goneril (pointing to the door)
You sir, more knave than Fool, after your master.
Fool (apropos of nothing)
I think that, to be very honest with thee,
I do believe that we should have rightly believed,
But we certainly believe that certain issues
That must be believed, and are just settled.
(Pauses)
It’s time for us to do what we have been doing,
And that time is every day, from this time onwards.
(Exits)
Clematis
What makest thou of that, my beloved?
Goneril (sarcastically)
That old man hath had the best of counsel.
(Pauses)
‘Tis politic and safe to let him keep
At point a hundred knights? On every dream,
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their Powers
And hold our lives at his mercy?- (calling out) Oswald!
Clematis (trying to placate her husband)
Well, you may fear too far.
Goneril
Safer than to trust too far.
Let me still take away the harms I fear,
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart:
Depraved; darker than his mind is addled,
And focussed solely on his skimming off
One part in ten from all of my dealings!
Blind to all but self, feathering his nest,
Exploiting me, my loss his only gain.
Greed consumes him, driving him to bedlam.
(Enter Oswald, the Steward)
How Now, Oswald?
Hast thou writ that letter to my brother?
Oswald
Ay, milord.
Goneril
Take thee some company and away to horse.
Inform him full of my particular fear
And thereto add such reasons of thine own
As may compact it more. Get thee gone!
(Oswald Exits)
Clematis
How far thine eyes may pierce I canst not tell.
Striving to better, oft, we mar what’s well.
Goneril
This milky gentleness and course of yours,
Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,
Are much more at task for want of wisdom
Than praised for harmful mildness.
(Exeunt)
Act 1 Scene 6:
(On the road to Brandywine Castle, the seat of King Lear’s favoured oldest son, Regan)
Narrator
Having been so thoroughly taken aback by his younger son’s effrontery in showing him such a lack of hospitality, not to mention deference, Lear had stormed off on the road to Brandywine castle. Along the way, clearly affected by his son’s rejection, he seemed even more befuddled than usual, confusing the names of his long standing attendants, and often referring to his Fool as Her Majesty. Initially, this was thought to be merely a slip of the tongue, or an attempt at low brow humour, but as they continued on their journey many began to wonder whether the King was drunk, or had suddenly become the light of other days.
Sulius (Regnus) (intent on showing initiative and loyalty to the addled monarch)
My liege, I hath penned letters in thy name,
Recounting Goneril’s conduct, brash and bold.
Beseeching him to grant thee sanctuary,
Within his castle walls, to provide thee shelter.
King Lear
Good sir, I thank thee for thy intervention.
Go you before to Brandywine with these letters.
Acquaint our son no further with anything
Thou know’st than comes from his demand
Out of these letters. If thy diligence not be speedy,
Then I shall be there afore thee.
Sulius (Regnus)
I wilt not sleep, milord, until I’ve delivered them.
(Exits)
Narrator
Once Sulius had left to ride ahead, King Lear and the Fool proceeded in more leisurely fashion, where they began to bicker back and forth, wherein it often became exceedingly difficult to determine just who was the bigger Fool.
Fool
If a man’s brains were in his arse, my lord,
He shouldst then take greatest care where he sits.
King Lear
Ay, girl!
And if they were found within a man’s legs,
With hair that turns blonde in the baking sun,
Then, when children rubbed his leg hair upwards,
It wouldst cause the blood to rush to his head.
Fool
Indeed, you wouldst makest a dandy Fool.
King Lear
When life itself seems lunatic and wild,
Who knows where madness hides, unreconciled?
Thou art a dog-faced pony soldier, true,
Dragging thy sorry self, misled, askew.
Fool
(Singing)
“In springtime’s bloom, with faculties bright,
We prance like donkeys, such wondrous sight!
But as summer’s heat begins to soar,
Our minds like elephants, wise no more.“
King Lear (musing)
Perhaps to be practical is madness .
To surrender dreams – this may be madness!
Fool
(Resuming singing)
Autumn arrives, with leaves a-falling,
Our thoughts, like donkeys, start a-stalling.
Memory fades, like the winter’s frost,
Elephants’ wisdom? Oh, what we’ve lost!“
King Lear
Too much sanity may be madness too,
And maddest of all: to see life as it is,
And not, by grace of God, as it should be!
Fool
(Singing once more, undeterred)
“So, let us play in life’s grand charade,
Like donkeys and elephants, unafraid.
For age may steal our wits, it’s true,
But nonsense and joy will see us through!“
King Lear (whispering in the Fool’s ear)
Take our advice and live for a long, long time.
Because the maddest thing a man can do
In this life is to allow himself to die!
Fool
If thou wert my Fool, nuncle, I’d have thee
Beaten for being old before your time!
King Lear (holding his weary head in his hands)
O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!
Keep me in temper. I would not be mad!
Fool
Thou shouldst not have been old, till thou hadst been wise.
King Lear
Come, girl. Let us tarry no longer here.
There is a remedy for everything, except death!
(Exeunt)
Act 2 Scene 1:
(In the grounds of Brandywine Castle)
Narrator
Regnus, disguised as Lear’s recently acquired servant Sulius, arrived at Brandywine Castle just a few minutes before Goneril’s steward, Oswald. Determined to head him off, and to intercept the letter Goneril had written to his brother, Sulius managed to persuade (with a little monetary inducement of course) some of Regan’s palace guards to his cause, convincing them that the only way to protect their master’s interests was in thwarting Oswald at every turn. When Oswald arrived, he was met with a belligerent welcoming committee of armed guards who, after a brief struggle, restrained him and then bound him up as Sulius looked on gleefully from the shadows.
Oswald (struggling with his captors, perplexed at the unexpected reception)
What is the meaning of this? Unhand me!
Guard
Be still, roguish swine!
Thou art nothing but the composition
Of a beggar, coward, pander, and knave,
And the son and heir of a mongrel bitch!
Oswald
Thou art mistaken in this portrayal!
I am sent forth from Burisma Castle
With a missive from noble Goneril.
(Handing over the letter)
Guard
These letters are not in his lordship’s hand!
Thou cometh with letters against the King,
Yet, ’tis clearly written in thine own hand!
What fraud and treachery is this, varlet?
Oswald
Neither! I doth protest my innocence!
Guard (gesturing to his henchmen)
Fetch forth the stocks – we’ll teach thee a lesson.
(Oswald is put in the stocks)
Oswald
Such grave injustice to be treated thus,
At the hands of ruffians and scoundrels!
(Exeunt)
Act 2 Scene 2:
(Reception room within Brandywine Castle)
Narrator
Having headed Oswald off successfully through manipulation of Prince Regan’s household guards, he set out to gain an introduction to the Lady of the Manor, Belerion, whose husband had spent the last several days confined to his bed with blinding headaches. Shortly thereafter, he was introduced to milady, who was conspicuous by the tightly conforming bodice and plunging neck line of her shapely dress, an ensemble that left little to the imagination. Of course, Sulius was impervious to her charms, and instead focussed steadfast on the task at hand.
Sulius (Regnus) (bowing)
Milady, I bring letters from the King,
Who wishes to seek sanctuary here
Having been treated shabbily, and then
Shamefully rebuffed at Burisma Castle.
Belerion (taken aback)
We expected the King a fortnight hence,
And so we are unready for his arrival.
(Pauses, then apologetically)
My husband is presently indisposed,
With his humours being cruelly perturbed.
Sulius (Regnus)
Sorry to hear of this unhappy news.
I shouldst to thee give these letters, madam.
(Handing her the letters)
Belerion (reads letters)
Sir, I canst see the King feels much aggrieved!
We shalt endeavour to accommodate,
In deference to his noble station.
(gesturing to proceed into the palace entrance)
Please be our guest until the King arrives.
Narrator
Belerion ushered Sulius into the grand entrance of Brandywine Palace, which was conspicuous by its opulence and grandeur, as would befit the residence of one who assumed that the certainty of his ascendancy to the throne was a mere heartbeat away. Having been shown to his bedchamber, Sulius soon made his way furtively around the palace, hoping to find Regan’s quarters in order to gain an audience.
Eventually, he found Regan’s bedchamber where he found him strangely unattended, barely conscious and rambling incoherently. Strangely, in the midst of this fever dream, Regan seemed to recognise Sulius’ true identity almost immediately, and greeted him accordingly. Sulius was perturbed by Regan’s haggard appearance, with the left half half of his face sagging and immobile, whilst he only seemed able to move one of his arms freely.
Regan (slurring, and rambling semi-coherently)
Behold! An ocean vast of sand doth spread,
Where dust in swirling spirals doth ascend,
With tendrils twining smoke and ash, the blend
That rises from the depths of fiery dread.
Doth mine eyes fool me? Or doth Regnus fair,
Noble and true, stand yonder in my sight?
Thou art transformed, aged by time’s cruel flight,
Pale as a ghost emerging from despair.
Sulius (Regnus)
Thou art mistaken, my liege; I am Tom,
A mere humble servant of thy father.
Regan (his slurring becoming more pronounced, struggling to be understood)
My head doth pound, with throbs that rend my mind,
With blinding shafts of light that pierce mine eyes,
My hands too numb to grasp, my limbs entwined
In paresis, where half my body lies.
This bed, my cell, where days unceasing blend,
In tedium’s embrace, no respite found,
And shadows, foul, with bitter tongues they bend,
To taunt and torment till the night comes round.
Narrator
Suddenly, Regan let out an agonised groan, and lapsed into unconsciousness, barely breathing. Sulius was clearly taken aback at this sudden and unexpected turn of events, and called out to Belerion to come and tend to her ailing husband. When Belerion arrived at Regan’s bedchamber, Sulius was surprised to see her ladyship largely impassive at the sight of her husband in extremis. She lent over her husband and kissed his forehead, only for Regan to take his last shallow breath soon after, and then to promptly decease.
Belerion (ruefully)
Woe, alas! How canst this be the Lord’s will,
That one so bold is cut down in his prime!
’Tis beyond the realms of all good reason
That my husband shouldst so meekly perish.
Sulius (Regnus) (respectfully)
Please accept my condolences, milady,
On this sudden, and unexpected loss.
Belerion
I give thee thanks, good sir, for thy kind words.
Sulius (Regnus)
Please accept my apologies, madam,
But I must prepare for the King’s arrival.
Belerion
By all means, sir, make ready as thou must.
(Exit Sulius (Regnus))
Belerion (to herself)
Upon this plight, husband, thou hast left me
A widow in my prime, bereft of thee.
Our children now fatherless, forsaken
By thy frailty. Am I to bear this yoke
And wither on the vine whilst others thrive
In life’s rich pageant? Nay, I shalt pursue
A different path, for I am not built
For sorrow’s role, nor chastity’s lament.
But, to revel in pleasures of the flesh
Delving into the depths where vice enslaves.
The infernal trinity shall I hail,
Of henbane, mandrake, and deadly nightshade.
No sensation shall escape my quest’s range,
Nor shall a lust within me be estranged.
(Exeunt)
Act 2 Scene 3:
(Elsewhere in Brandywine Castle)
Narrator
Sulius returned to his quarters, and prepared the adjoining room for the King, who was expected to arrive at any moment. The death of the favoured son, Regan, was likely to hit the erstwhile King hard, and Sulius was determined to help soften the blow by applying his skills as an amateur apothecary to help ease his sovereign’s pain.
Sulius had travelled extensively through Egypt and the Near East in his youth, where he had acquired significant quantities of a substance known as Cocaine, another known as Cannabis, and Syrian Rue seeds and Blue lotus flowers, each of which could be smoked, pulverised into a fine powder and snorted, or served as a medicinal tea or added to wine.
Sulius resolved to either lace King Lear’s wine, or to prepare some herbal tea at the first opportunity with a mixed concoction of these agents, to help soften the blow of this awful loss for the King.
Sennet. Enter King Lear, his Fool, and Attendants. The King half stumbles over the stoop on entry.
Sulius (Regnus)
Welcome to Brandywine Castle, milord.
King Lear (miffed)
I had expected that thou wouldst greet me
At the front gates, as wouldst befit a King.
Sulius (Regnus)
Apologies, milord, but there has been
A tragic circumstance that has occurred,
Which hath made such fine points of protocol
Somewhat more vexed than is customary.
King Lear (with some trepidation)
What hath happened to cause such disquiet?
Sulius (Regnus)
‘Tis your son, milord. He had taken ill
These past few days complaining of his head.
Whilst he seemed to rally at first, my liege,
The young Prince hath sadly just passed away.
King Lear
C’mon man! Canst not be true! Our son dead?
(Pauses, visibly shaken – pondering the gravity of it all)
Oh, what a woeful tale doth unfold here,
Wherein our young son’s life is snatched away,
By cruel fate’s ruthless, unyielding hand.
God, in His mercy, called him to His side,
Ere his time on this earthly stage was done.
Sulius (Regnus) (apologetically)
I regret, sire, I must be the bearer
Of news so deplorable and tragic.
King Lear (lamenting his ill fortune)
In life’s twilight, such loss weighs heavy now,
A burden undeserved in aging years.
Betrayals sting, since we divided all,
Our kingdom shared ‘mongst heirs I held so dear.
Once cherished, now showeth but scant regard,
For father’s love and sovereign’s solemn charge.
(Pauses)
‘Twas met with disdain by our younger son,
And indifference by our once beloved,
Yet ungrateful daughter, now estranged.
Wouldst have hoped our eldest would carry on
Our legacy, with honor and with pride.
But fate, in its caprice, hath intervened,
Dashing those hopes, leaving me grieved and lone.
Sulius (Regnus) (gesturing toward the dining hall)
Come majesty, let me soothe thy spirit
With a calming cup of my herbal tea.
A concoction of mine own rendering,
‘Tis a remedy for all that ails thee.
King Lear
Our gratitude for thy sympathy’s grace,
A cup of soothing tea wouldst bring me peace.
To calm my nerves, frazzled and worn thin,
‘Twould be a balm, a solace in my strife.
(Exeunt)
Act 2 Scene 4:
(Midnight. Sulius’ bedchamber)
Narrator
Having seen to it that King Lear was suitably tranquillised for the occasion with his ministrations of the promised herbal tea concoction, Sulius retired to his bedchamber satisfied that he had helped His Majesty significantly to be his best self through the difficult funeral and burial of his most favoured son.
As he drifted off into fitful slumber, a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, and made its way in the darkness to his bedside. As the figure moved into view in a shaft of moonlight that streamed through the window above his head, to Sulius’ surprise the silhouette resolved into the figure of Belerion, widow of the recently deceased Prince Regan, who stood over him in all her glory, naked as the very day she was born.
To suggest that Sulius’ reaction to this unexpected nocturnal apparition was a mixture of both astonishment and trepidation would be a huge understatement. As Belerion leant over the now startled lord, it became abundantly clear to Sulius that not only was the Princess under the influence of some kind of heavy intoxicant, but also that her behaviour was completely bereft of any of the normal inhibitions or moral rectitude that one would expect from a well bred lady of the Royal Court.
Belerion (leaning over Sulius, then reaching under the covers to rub him up and down suggestively, whilst whispering softly into his ear)
Come now, milord! Let passion be thy spur.
Surely thou canst rise to the occasion!
Sulius (Regnus) (recoiling in horror)
Milady, please forgive my reluctance,
For thou art indeed a most alluring,
Seductive and bewitching paramour,
But thy prince is not e’en cold in the ground!
Belerion (maintaining her grip on the situation in spite of Regnus’ protestations to the contrary)
Come, come. Be not so shy and timid, sir,
Lest thou mayst miss the opportunity
For carnal delights both rare and refined!
Sulius (Regnus) (sitting bolt upright in bed, whilst gently pushing milady’s insistent hand away)
I regret, madam, I canst not oblige
In the fulfilling of thy entreaty.
As a servant of my King I canst not,
In all conscience, betray his Royal trust
By consorting thus with his son’s widow!
Belerion (disdainfully)
Verily, thou must have other preferences
That moves thee more than my feminine wiles!
Sulius (Regnus) (forcefully)
Get thee hence, madam, and beclothe thyself!
To thy charms and spells I am impervious.
Belerion
Thou canst be assured thou shalt ne’er know
The exotic pleasures that my flesh is heir to.
(Defiantly, as she storms out of Regnus’ room)
Such consummation is devoutly to be wished for!
(Exit Belerion)
Sulius (Regnus) (breathing a sigh of relief)
Such relief to escape that drugged woman’s snare,
Unscathed I’ll now flee from that brazen hussy’s lair.
(Exits)
Act 2 Scene 5:
(Edmund’s quarters in Blaise Castle, the ancestral seat of Lord Coriolis of the Dobunni)
Narrator
Edmund arrived back at Blaise Castle an hour or so prior to his father, so that the bastard could further prepare his plan in discrediting his elder brother in his father’s eyes. There he met his brother Edgar who was hiding out in Edmund’s quarters as instructed.
Edmund
Our father approaches. O sir, fly this place.
He hath six ways from Sunday to get back at thee.
Intelligence is given where thou art hid.
Thou hast now the good advantage of the night.
Edgar
Hast thou heard what hath so offended him?
I am perplexed at his sudden volte-face!
Edmund
I am just as mystified as thou art,
By his sudden hatred of thee, brother.
(Pauses, hearing the clamour at the gates of his father’s arrival)
I hear my father coming; Pardon me:
In cunning I must draw my sword upon thee!
Draw: seem to defend thyself: now quit thee well.
Fly, brother. Torches, torches! So, farewell.
(Exit Edgar)
Some blood drawn on me wouldst beget opinion.
(Edmund wounds his arm, then admires his handiwork)
I have seen drunkards do more than this in sport!
(Enter Coriolis and Servants with torches)
Coriolis
Now, Edmund, where’s this villain?
Edmund
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand as his auspicious mistress—
(Pointing to his wound)
Look sir, I bleed.
Coriolis (enraged)
Where is this villain, Edmund?
Edmund
Fled this way, sir, When by no means he could–
Coriolis (gesticulating to his Servants)
Pursue him, ho! Go after him!
(Exeunt Servants)
By no means what?
Edmund
Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;
But that I told him, the revenging Gods
‘Gainst paarricides 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, lanced mine arm:
But when he saw my best alarum’d spirits,
Bold in the quarrel’s right, roused to the encounter,
Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
Coriolis
Let him fly far: for he has reap’d the whirlwind
And now must he pay the price of his betrayal.
He is unfit for civilised society,
With his failures of duty, his perfidy,
As he creeps along on the fuel of cowardice!
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
Bring the murderous coward to the stake;
He that conceals him, death!
(Exeunt)
Act 2 Scene 6:
(A wood)
Enter Edgar
I heard myself proclaim’d
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escaped the hunt. No port is free: no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,
Does not attend my taking. Whiles 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 out-face
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
(Pauses)
This country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Rally the deplorable and the horrible,
From the low farms, the poor pelting villages,
The sheep-cotes, and the dark satanic mills;
Sometime with prayers, sometime with lunatic bans,
Enforcing their charity where’er they go.
Edgar I nothing am; “Poor Tom” instead!
(Exeunt)
Act 3 Scene 1:
(A heath outside Brandywine Castle)
Narrator:
King Lear managed to get through Regan’s funeral with the help of Sulius’ herbal concoctions, but once these effects had worn off he was soon overwhelmed by grief, and enraged at the cruel fate that had befallen him: disrespected by his beloved daughter, and cruelly spurned by his younger son, only to shortly thereafter lose his eldest son, the apple of his eye and the one in whom he had placed his faith in the continuity of his regal legacy.
As the heathen proverb goes: “Those whom the Gods would destroy, they first make mad”. And so it was with Lear, who wandered out of Brandywine Castle in the dead of night, muttering to himself in rambling fashion with a litany of non-sequiturs and assorted gibberish. The King’s Fool, roused from her sleep at the sound of her sovereign stumbling about in the dark outside the palace, proceeds to follow after him. A storm is brewing as Lear treks out onto the heath, shouting at the sky and cursing the Gods for the predicament in which he has found himself, an existential crisis largely of his own making.
Enter King Lear. Storm and tempest.
King Lear
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,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Enter Fool, who was observing from a distance.
Fool (pleading with Lear to come in out of the storm)
Here’s a night pities neither wise man nor fool.
O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house
Is better than this rain out o’ door!
King Lear
Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my offspring:
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 despised old man:
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious siblings join’d
Your high engender’d battles ‘gainst a head
As old and white as this. O! O! ’tis foul!
Fool (trying to rationalise with her King)
As wild winds rage and howl with fervent might,
Saplings shalt sway, but mighty oaks stand firm!
King Lear
I once was that “grand oak”, vanquishing tribes
To enlarge and enrich mine own domain.
My kingdom was once virtue’s paragon,
But now Elysium is just a shadow
Of its former halcyon days of glory.
(sighs)
Alas, I too am light of other days.
Fool
‘Twas a paradise for a Fool such as I,
‘Tis true, but memory plays tricks, milord!
King Lear
What trickery dost thou imply, young Fool!
Fool
Remember Caledonia’s dismal plight,
Where thy forces fled, leaving all contrite.
Brave soldiers abandoned, their fate sealed grim,
At barbarian hands, left to shadows dim!
King Lear
Not mine the fault!
I was much constrain’d by transition’s weight
From Chaos’ reign, which trump’d what I couldst dictate.
In early years, shadows of the past loomed,
And I struggl’d to undo what dark times groomed.
Fool
Prosperity eroded by spending’s spree,
On trifles and trinkets, while peasants plead.
High taxes a burden, inflation’s a blight,
Brought thy kingdom down from a lofty height.
King Lear
At times my plans defied reason or rhyme,
But building back better took it’s sweet time
To improve the plight of the peasant class,
But someday their reward shall come to pass.
Fool
See yon borders, where invaders doth tread,
Disrupting our peace, not easily led.
From distant realms they come, a surging tide.
As foreign intruders seeking here to abide.
King Lear
Long have I welcomed strangers to our fold,
With open arms and hearts, the sum untold.
As kin to our clan, join’d with hearts sincere,
To fortify my power, so be of good cheer!
Fool
Thy power was great, ’tis certainly true,
But what entire didst that power imbue?
Didst the serfs break free from their penury?
Wilt thou be saved from their wrath and fury?
King Lear
Poor naked wretches, whereso’er they are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall their houseless heads and unfed sides,
Their loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend them
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
(stripping himself naked, exposing himself to the storm raging around him)
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just!
Fool (now chasing the naked Lear as he runs around the heath)
Nuncle! Hold fast and gather thy senses,
Lest the guards witness this exhibition.
King Lear (laughing out loud, and jumping around waving his arm madly)
So let the stars mock, let the moon jeer,
For my kingdom’s collapse, I shed no tear.
On the heath I’ll dwell, ‘neath the cold night’s shroud,
My bequest shatter’d, but I’m out and proud!
Narrator
Eventually, the naked monarch began to slow down in his lunatic romp, with the bitter cold and damp chilling him to the core. His Fool encouraged him to come back to the castle, to have a hot cup of herbal tea, and to warm his bones in front of the fire. As the heady concoction took its effect, Sulius and the King’s Fool guided the misguided sovereign back to his warm bed, where he soon was lured into a deep, and hopefully restorative sleep. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day.
Act 3 Scene 2:
(A heath outside Brandywine castle)
Narrator
Having witnessed the behaviour of the King the night before, running naked around the heath during a violent tempest, raving and ranting at the sky like an escaped lunatic, Sulius had gone for a walk on the moor to contemplate the significance of this behaviour on the future of the Kingdom. Clearly, there was only so much his herbal concoctions could be expected to do to overcome the demented and increasingly irrational behaviour of the former monarch.
The death of Regan, with Cordelia having been cast into exile, left only the degenerate Goneril as heir apparent to the throne, a man in whom Sulius placed little confidence as to his suitability as a future King. Instead, Sulius began to wonder whether contacting the exiled Cordelia, a woman he staunchly defended to his own detriment only a few short weeks ago, would be his best option for survival amongst all this courtly intrigue and duplicity. Perhaps she, with the King of the Gauls as her new husband, would present the best hope for restoring the Kingdom to its former glory.
Enter Sulius (Regnus) and a gentleman, meeting.
Sulius (Regnus)
Who’s there, beside foul weather?
Gentleman
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
Sulius (Regnus)
I’m inform’d thou art of good character,
And none too pleased with this dire circumstance.
Gentleman
The King contends with fretful elements:
Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled water ‘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 this little world of man to out-scorn
The to and fro conflicting wind and rain.
Sulius (Regnus)
Sir, I do know thee;
And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
Commend a dear thing to thee. There is division,
Although as yet the face of it be cover’d
With artful cunning, within King Lear’s realm.
Lear’s last born son, and Regan’s young widow,
Have set their great stars be enthroned on high.
Gentleman
From Gaul there comes a powerful faction
Into this scatter’d Kingdom, who already
Wise to our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports; and with their spies
Intelligent of our state, who’re at point
To show their open banner in defiance.
Sulius (Regnus)
If on my credit thou darest build so far
To make thy speed to Dubris, thou shalt find
Some who will thank thee, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
That the King hath given us cause to plain.
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer
This assignment to thee, my good fellow.
Gentleman
I must think it o’er, and get back to thee.
Sulius (Regnus)
For confirmation that I am much more
(Handing him his purse, within which is a distinctive signet ring)
Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains. If thou shalt see Cordelia,-
as fear not but thou shalt,- show her this ring:
And she will tell thee who this fellow is.
Gentleman
I shall do my best, milord, in thy charge.
Sulius (Regnus)
Godspeed and good luck be to thee, good sir!
(Exeunt)
Act 3 Scene 3:
(Another part of the Heath, just after sundown)
Enter Lear and his Fool. The King is dishevelled and his grey hair matted and wild, and once again he is seen roaming around the heath as storm clouds gather and the wind begins whipping up to a savage intensity. Lear is muttering to himself in a gibberish decipherable only within his own head.
King Lear (singing, in a childlike voice)
“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!“
(now laughing maniacally)
Fool
In such a storm, only mad dogs and men
Of English breed would venture out again.
They brave the lash of rain, the wind’s wild cry,
In senseless folly, while the sane apply
Themselves to seek the shelter, wise and good,
Which any prudent soul in safety should.
King Lear (oblivious to his Fool’s pleas for sanity)
Let those great and all powerful deities,
That keep this dreadful pother o’er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble thou wretch,
That has within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp’d of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjured, and thou simular of virtue
That art incestuous! Wretch, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Practised on man’s life! Secret pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
For mercy these dreadful summoners grace.
(Pauses)
I’m a man more sinned against than sinning!
Enter Sulius (Regnus)
Sulius (Regnus)
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 to within their dank caves.
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 canst
Not carry the affliction nor the fear.
Fool (Singing)
“He that has and a little tiny wit—
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
For the rain it raineth every day.”
Sulius (Regnus) (pointing to an open, low shelter nearby)
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
Some friendship will it lend you ‘gainst the tempest:
Repose you there; whilst I to thy son’s house-
More harder than the stones whereof ’tis raised;
I shall return, and force their scant courtesy.
King Lear
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.
(Exit Lear and Sulius)
Fool
This is a brave night to cool a courtesan!
I’ll speak a prophesy 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;
Then shall the realm of our Albion
Come to great affray and confusion!
(Pauses)
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 count their gold i’ the field;
And bawds and whores do churches build;
Then comes the time, who lives to see it,
When freedom reigns by royal fiat!
(Exits)
Act 3 Scene 4:
(Blaise Castle)
Narrator
Coriolis, having failed in his task of finding his disloyal son Edgar, who it seems had vanished into thin air, had returned to Blaise Castle to contemplate his future, now that his legitimate son had proven so unworthy of his affections.
Being ever loyal to the former King Lear, and having heard of the disdainful way in which Lear was treated at Burisma Palace by his son, Coriolis was shocked and disgusted at the shamelessness displayed by the nominal heirs to the Kingdom.
Foreseeing that a potential conflict between Goneril and Regan was only a matter of time, Coriolis had sought to make representations to Cordelia, now the Queen of the Gauls, to return to Albion to help mend this broken kingdom. Cordelia communicated frankly and openly with the noble gentleman, whom she knew to be loyal to her father, in a letter that outlined her intentions to venture back across the sea with her husband and his army to help restore the kingdom to her father’s rightful rule.
Knowing the potential danger of such a missive falling into either Regan or Goneril’s hands, Coriolis secreted the letter in a locked closet, where only he and his trusted son Edmund would know of its whereabouts.
Enter Coriolis and Edmund
Coriolis
Alack, alack, Edmund.
I like not this unnatural dealing.
When I desired their leave to pity him,
The brothers barred me, silenced every word,
Denied him solace, forbade him succour,
Or to speak, plead, or offer him relief.
Such ignominy, denying their sire,
In disdain of his once regal station.
Edmund
Most savage and unnatural!
Coriolis
Go to: say you nothing.
There will be division twixt the Princes,
Mark my words, son, nothing could be surer!
Worse still, this night I’ve received a letter;
‘Tis dangerous for this to be spoken;
I have locked the letter in my closet:
These injuries the former King now bears
Shall be rightly revenged home in due course.
There’s part of a power already footed:
We must incline loyalty to the King.
Go you and maintain talk with Goneril ,
That my charity be not of him perceived.
Though I die of it, as no less is threatened me,
The King, my old master, must be relieved.
Edmund: pray you, be careful!
(Exits)
Edmund
This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the Prince
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.
(Exits)
Act 3 Scene 5:
(The heath. Before a hovel)
Sulius (Regnus)
Here is the place I said, my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night’s too rough
Even for nature to endure.
Storm still
King Lear
Let me alone!
Sulius (Regnus) (gesturing to the hovel’s opening)
Good my lord, enter here.
King Lear
Wilt break my heart?
Sulius (Regnus)
I had rather break mine own, majesty.
King Lear
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’ldst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou’ldst 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.
(Gesturing to his heart)
-Filial ingratitude!
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!
Narrator
With that King Lear’s eyes begin to glaze over, and after a quarter turn to either side, confused as to where to go next, he began to wander off in the opposite direction, only for Sulius to gently guide him back to the entrance to the hovel. The King’s Fool, sensing the King’s hesitation, entered the hovel to show the way in to the shelter.
(The Fool goes in)
King Lear (to Sulius)
Prithee, go in thyself. Seek thine own ease;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On those things that wouldst hurt me even more.