Fool Chapter 17

ACT IIIJesters do oft prove prophets. fag Lear, Act V, Scene 3, ReganSEVENTEENREIGNING FOOLS, HAILING NUTTERSBlow, wind, crack your cheeks Rage Blow thnethered Lear.The oerage piece had perched himself on the top of a hill exposeside Gloucester and was shouting into the wind like a blinking(a) lunatic, altogether the same as lightning raked the sky with white-hot claws and thunder shook me to my ribs. come in in from there, you bloody decrepit elder looney express I, huddled under a holly bush nearby drenched and c of age(predicate) and at the end of my patience with the old man. Come coering fire to Gloucester and ask shelter from your daughters.Oh, ye heartless theologys Send your oak-cleaving deadenedbolts bulge on meBurn me with your sulfurous and life-ending firesSinge my white head and reduce me to a pillar of ash treeStrike me dead Let your wrath view fiery form and smite meTake me, save no violenceI do non blame thee, thou art non my daughtersIve disposed you no affaire and expect no quarterDo your horrible pleasure direct,To a poor, infirm, despised old man relegate the sky Strike me deadThe old man paused as a dash split a tree on the heath with blinding fire and a noise that would cast statues to shitting themselves. I ran out from under my bush to the kings side.Come in, nuncle. Take some shelter under a shrub, if only to fulfill the sting out of the rainwater.I take on no shelter. Let nature take her naked r change surfacege.Fine, then, give tongue to I. Then you wont be needing this. I took the old mans heavy fur cape, tossed him my maudlin woolen cloak, and retreated to my shrubbery and the relative shelter of the heavy animal skin.Hey? tell Lear, bewildered.Go on, say I. Crack the sky, fry your old head, mash your balls, et cetera, et cetera. Ill prompt you if you lose your place.And pip he went againMighty Thor, hurl your thunderbolts to cease this weary heartNeptunes waves, beat these limbs from their jointsHeca tes claws, tear my liver and sup upon my soulBaal, blast my bowels from their bad homeJupiter, strew the land with my shredded muscleThe old man stopped his tirade for a moment and the madness went out of his mettles. He looked to me. Its really fucking cold out here.Like world struck by a bolt of the bloody obvious on the road to Damascus, innit, nuncle? I held undetermined the great fur cloak and nodded for the old man to join me in it under my shrubbery. He crept subdue the hill, cargonful not to slip in the rivulets of mud and water that cascaded by, and ducked under the cover with me.The old man shuddered and put his skeletal arm around my shoulders. Rather closer than were accustomed to, eh, boy?Aye, nuncle, did I constantly tell you that you are a genuinely attractive man? utter Jones, poking his puppety head out of the cloak.And the old man began to laugh, and he laughed until his shoulders shook and the laughter broke into a jarring cough, and that continued until I thought he might expectorate vital organs. I caught some freezing rain in my cupped hand and held it for him to sip.Dont make me laugh, boy. Im mad with grief and rage and Ive no stomach for jests. You should stand clear, lest a thunderbolt scorch you when the gods heed my challenge.Nuncle, begging pardon, that, you arrogant old tosser The gods arent going to strike you d get down got with a thunderbolt simply be safari you asked them. Why would they accommodate you with a thunderbolt? More likely a carbuncle, festered and kaput(p) fatal, or perchance a give thanksless child or two, being how the gods love their irony.The cheek say Lear.Oh yes, cheeky gods they are, say I. And you named off a bushel of them, too. Now if you are struck down we wont til now know who to blame unless lightning brands a signature in your old hide. You should mother dared one, then waited an hour perhaps before calling fire down from the whole lot at a go.The king wiped rain out of his eyeball . Ive set a thousand monks and nuns to pray for my forgiveness and the pagans slaughter goats by the herd for my salvation, further I fear it is not enough. Not once did I act in the interest of my people, not once did I act in the interest of my wives or my daughters mothers I have served myself as god and I find I am little forgiving. Be kind, Pocket, lest you one day face the sliminess as I do. Or, in absence of kindness, be drunk.But, nuncle, said I. I do not need to be cautious for the day when I become frail. I am frail now. And on the glossy side, there may be no God at all, and the savage deeds youve done depart be their own reward.Perhaps I dont even rate a righteous slaughtering, sobbed Lear. The gods have direct these daughters to suck out my life blood. It is punishment for how I treated my own father. Do you know how I became king?Pulled a sword out of a stone and slayed a dragon with it, didnt you?No, that never happened.sod convent education. Buggered if I know then, nuncle. How did Lear become king?My own father, I murdered him. I do not deserve a noble death.I was speechless. I had been in service of the king over a decade and never had I perceive of this. The story went that old King Bladud had handed the kingdom over to Lear and went to Athens, where he learned to be a necromancer, then re dark to Britain and died from the plague in service of the goddess Minerva at the synagogue at Bath. But before I could gather my wits for a reply, lightning cracked the sky, illuminating a hulking creature that was making its way crossways the hillside toward us.Whats that? I asked.A demon, said the old man. The gods have sent a monster to take their revenge on me.The thing was covered in slime, and walking as if it had just been constructed from the very earth over which it slogged. I felt for the daggers at the small of my back and pulled one from its sheath. Thered be no knife throwing in this downpour I wasnt even sure I could hold the bl ade steady for a thrust.Your sword, Lear, said I. Draw and defend. I stood and stepped out of the shelter of the shrubbery. I spun Jones so his stick end was at the ready, and drew a flourish in the air with my dagger.Come hither, demon Pockets got a coach ride back to the underworld for thee.I crouched, thinking to leap out as the thing lunged. Although it described the shape of a man, I could see long slimy tendrils drag from it, and mud oozing off of it. Once it stumbled Id leap on its back and see if I could cause it to fall and slide down the hillside, away from the old king.No, let it take me, said Lear. Suddenly the old man shrugged off his fur cloak and charged at the monster, his arms wide, as if offering his very heart to the beast. Slay me, ye merciless god rend this black heart from Britains chestI could not stop him and the old man fell into the beasts arms. But to my surprise, there was no tearing of limbs or bashing of brains. The thing caught the old man and lowere d him gently to the ground.I lowered my blade and inched forward. Leave him, beast.The thing was kneel over Lear, whose eyes were rolled back in his head even as he twitched as if in a fit. The beast looked at me and I saw streaks of pink th unruly the mud, the whites of its eyes. booster me, it said. Help me get him to shelter.I stepped forth and wiped the mud away from the things face. It was a man, covered with mud so bass it even ran out of his mouth and coated his teeth, but a man just the same, vines or rags, I couldnt tell which, trailed off his arms. Help poor tomcat begin him out of the cold, said he.I cover my dagger, retrieved the old mans cape, and helped the muddy, naked bloke carry King Lear into the wood.It was a tiny cabin, barely enough get on to stand in, but the fire was warm and the old woman stirred a pot that smelled of stewing meat and onions, like breath of the Muses it was, on this dank night. Lear stirred, now hours since we brought him in from the r ain. The king reclined on a pallet of straw and skins. His fur cloak still steamed by the fire.Am I dead? asked the old man.Nay, nuncle, but ye were close enough to lick deaths salty taint, said I.Back, foul fiend said the naked fellow, waving at the very air before his eyes. I had helped him wash away more than of the mud, so now he was merely filthy and mad, but no longer misshapen.Oh, poor Tom is cold So cold.Aye, we can tell that, said I. Unless youre just a crashingly large bloke what was innate(p) with a willie the size of a raisin.The fiend makes Tom eat the swimming frog, the tadpole, lizards, and ditch-water I eat appal dung for salads and swallow rats and bits of dead dogs. I drink pond scum, and in every village I am beaten and thrown into stocks. Away, fiend Leave poor, cold Tom aloneBlimey, said I. The loonies are in fully bloom tonight.I offered him some stewed mutton, said the old woman by the fire, without turning, but no, he had to have his frogs and cow pies. R ight fussy eater for a naked nutter.Pocket, said Lear, clawing at my arm. Who is that large, naked chap?He calls himself Tom, nuncle. Says hes pursued by the displease.He must have daughters. lift up here, Tom, did you give all to your daughters? Is that what drove you mad and poor even until you are naked?Tom crawled across the floor until he was at Lears side.I was a vain and selfish servant, said the nutter. I slept with my schoolmarm every night and woke thinking of putting it to her again in the morning. I drank and caroused and made merry, even piece my half brother fought a crusade for a Church for which he held no faith. I took all without thought for those who had nothing. Now I have nothing not a stitch, not a crumb, not a coin, and the devil dogs me to the ends of the earth for my selfishness.You see, said Lear, only a mans cruel daughters could drive him to such a state.He didnt say that, you daft geezer. He said he was a selfish libertine and the devil took his kit .The old woman turned now. Aye, the fools right. The younger nutter has no daughters, tis his own unkindness that curses him. She crossed the cabin with two steaming bowls of stew and set them before us on the floor. And its your own evil hounds you, Lear, not your daughters.The old woman, Id seen her before. She was one of the crones from the Great Birnam Wood. Different togs and somewhat less green, but this was for certain Rosemary, the cat-toed witch.Lear slid to the floor and grabbed poor Toms hand. I have been selfish. I have thought nothing of the weight of my deeds. My own father I imprisoned in the temple at Bath because he was a leper, and afterwards had him killed. My own brother I did murder when I suspected him of bedding my queen. No trial, not even the honor of a challenge. I had him murdered in his sleep without proof. And my queen is dead, too, for my jealousy. My kingdom is the fruit of cheat, and treachery have I reaped. I do not deserve to even wear clothes on my back. You are true, Tom, that you have nothing. I, too, shall have nothing, as is my just rewardThe old man began to tear off his clothes, ripping at the collar of his shirt, tearing more of his parchment-like skin than the linen. I stayed his hand, held his wrists and tried to catch his eye with my own, to pull him back from madness.Oh, I have wronged my sweet Cordelia the old man wailed. The only one who love me and I have wronged her My one true daughter Gods, tear these clothes from my back, tear the meat from my grind awayThen I felt claws clamp on my own wrists and I was pulled away from Lear as if I had been drawn by heavy iron shackles. Let him suffer, hissed the witch in my ear.But I have made this pain, said I.Lears pain is of his own making, fool, she said. With that I felt the room spinning and I heard the voice of the girl ghost telling me to sleep. Sleep, sweet Pocket.Whos the muddy naked bloke snoodleg the kings noggin? asked Kent.I awoke to see the old knight st anding in the doorway with the Earl of Gloucester. The storm still raged outside, but by firelight I could see the naked nutter Tom OBedlam had wrapped himself around Lear and was kissing the kings brazen-faced head as if blessing a newborn babe.Oh majesty, said Gloucester, cant you find better company than this? Who is this rough beast?He is a philosopher, said Lear. I will talk with him.Poor Tom OBedlam, is he, said Tom. Eater of tadpoles, cursed and damned by demons.Kent looked to me and I shrugged. Both mad as cat herds, said I. I looked around for the old woman as a witness, but she was gone.Well, snap to, majesty, I bring news from France, said Kent.Hollandaise sauce, excellent on eggs? I inquired.No, said Kent. More urgent.Wine and cease complement one another nicely? I further queried.No, you rasp-tongued rascal, France has landed an army at Dover, and theres statement theyve forces hidden in other cities around the British coast, ready to strike.Oh, well, that does trump the wine and cheese news, then, doesnt it?Gloucester was attempt to pry Tom off King Lear, but having a hard time doing so period keeping mud off his cloak. Ive sent word to the French camp at Dover that Lear is here, said Gloucester. Ive made the case to the kings daughters to let me bring him in from the storm, but they will not relent. Even in my own home my power has been usurped by the Duke of Cornwall. Regan and Cornwall have taken command of Lears knights, and with them, my castle.We come to bring you to a shack at the city wall, said Kent. When the storm breaks, Gloucester will send a cart to take Lear to the French camp at Dover.No, said Lear. Let me talk to my philosopher friend in private. He pawed at mad Tom. He knows much of how life should be lived. Tell me, friend, why is there thunder?Kent turned to Gloucester and shrugged. Hes not in his right mind.Who can blame him? said Gloucester. After what his daughters have done his very flesh rising up against him. I had a beloved son who conspired to murder me, and just the thought of that nearly drove me mad.Do you nobles have any reaction to hardship besides going bloody barking and running off to eat dirt? said I. Hitch up your bollocks and get on with it, would you? Caius, what of Drool?I left him hidden in the laundry, but Edmund will find him when his mind turns full to the task. Right now he is distracted by trying to avoid the sisters and conspiring with Cornwall.My son, Edmund, he is still true, said Gloucester.Yes, right, milord, said I. And mind you dont trip on the honeysuckle sprouting from his bum when you next see him. Do you have means to get me into the castle without Edmund knowing Im there?I suppose. But I take no commands from you, fool. You are but a slave, and an impudent one at that.Youre still angry over my jesting about your dead wife, arent you?Do the fools will boomed Lear. His word is as mine.A slight strain then would have knocked me off my feet, so shocked was I. Oh, there was still madness glowing in the old mans eyes, but so was the fire of his authority. A feeble, babbling wretch one moment, the next a dragon deep inside the old man barked fire.Yes, your majesty, said Gloucester.Hes a good lad, said Kent, by way of easing the bite of Lears command.Nuncle, bring your naked madman and let us go with Gloucester, to this hovel by the city wall. Ill retrieve my nitwit apprentice from the castle and off well be to meet up with the bloody frog King Jeff at Dover.Kent rubbed my shoulder. A sword in support then?No, thank you, said I. You stay with the old man, get him to Dover. I pulled Kent over by the fire and bade him persuade down so I could whisper in his ear. Did you know that Lear murdered his brother?The old knights eyes went wide, then narrowed as if he were in pain. He gave the order.Oh, Kent. Thou loyal old fool.