King Lear, Act 4, Scene 1

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

Still, it is better to be like this, and known to be despised, than to be despised and flattered at the same time. To be at the worst, the lowest and most cast-down thing fortune can make, is still to stand in hope and not to live in fear. The change that is worth grieving over is the fall from the best; the worst turns back to laughter. So welcome, you empty air that I take in my arms. The wretch you have blown to the worst owes nothing to your gusts.

But who comes here? My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age.

But who is coming here? My father, led by a poor man? World, world, O world! If your strange changes did not make us hate you, life would never give way to old age.

O my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father’s tenant these fourscore years.

Oh, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, for these eighty years.

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

Away, get away; good friend, go. Your kindnesses can do me no good at all; they may do you harm.

You cannot see your way.

You cannot see your way.

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

I have no way to go, and so I need no eyes. I stumbled when I could see. It is often seen that what we have makes us careless, and our very shortcomings turn out to be our advantages. Oh, my dear son Edgar, the food of your deceived father's anger! If I could only live to see you by touching you, I would say I had eyes again.

How now! Who’s there?

What now! Who is there?

[Aside.] O gods! Who is’t can say ‘I am at the worst’? I am worse than e’er I was.

[Aside.] Oh gods! Who can say, 'I am at the worst'? I am worse off than I ever was.

’Tis poor mad Tom.

It is poor mad Tom.

[Aside.] And worse I may be yet. The worst is not So long as we can say ‘This is the worst.’

[Aside.] And I may be worse yet. We have not reached the worst so long as we can say, 'This is the worst.'

Fellow, where goest?

Fellow, where are you going?

Is it a beggar-man?

Is it a beggar?

Madman, and beggar too.

A madman, and a beggar too.

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

He has some sense left, or he could not beg. In last night's storm I saw such a fellow, and he made me think a man is a worm. My son came into my mind then, though my mind was hardly friendly to him at the time. I have heard more since. We are to the gods as flies are to cruel boys: they kill us for their amusement.

[Aside.] How should this be? Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Angering itself and others. Bless thee, master!

[Aside.] How can this be? It is a bad trade that must play the fool to grief, making itself and others angry. God bless you, master!

Is that the naked fellow?

Is that the naked fellow?

Ay, my lord.

Yes, my lord.

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

Then please go away. If for my sake you will catch up with us a mile or two from here, on the road toward Dover, do it out of our long-standing love, and bring some clothing for this naked soul, whom I will ask to lead me.

Alack, sir, he is mad.

Oh no, sir, he is mad.

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

It is the sickness of the times when madmen lead the blind. Do as I tell you, or rather do as you please; above everything else, go.

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

I will bring him the best clothing I have, whatever comes of it.

Sirrah naked fellow.

You there, naked fellow.

Poor Tom’s a-cold. [Aside.] I cannot daub it further.

Poor Tom is cold. [Aside.] I cannot keep up the pretence any longer.

Come hither, fellow.

Come here, fellow.

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

[Aside.] And yet I must. Bless your sweet eyes, they are bleeding.

Know’st thou the way to Dover?

Do you know the way to Dover?

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

Every stile and gate, every bridle path and footpath. Poor Tom has been frightened out of his wits. Bless you, good man's son, from the foul fiend! Five fiends have been inside poor Tom at once: Obidicut, the fiend of lust; Hobbididence, prince of darkness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of grimacing and making faces, who since then possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So, bless you, master!

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

Here, take this purse, you whom the plagues of heaven have beaten down until you take every blow. The fact that I am miserable makes you the luckier. Heavens, go on dealing this way! Let the man who has more than he needs and feeds on his appetites, who makes a slave of your law, who will not see because he does not feel, feel your power quickly; then sharing out would put an end to excess, and every man would have enough. Do you know Dover?

Ay, master.

Yes, master.

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

There is a cliff whose high, overhanging head looks down frighteningly into the narrow sea below. Just bring me to the very edge of it, and I will make up for the misery you endure with something valuable I have on me. From that place I will need no leading.

Give me thy arm: Poor Tom shall lead thee.

Give me your arm. Poor Tom will lead you.