Scene Study prepares you to perform key scenes for your theater class or audition. We've got all the information you need for a great performance.

Excerpt from Act 4, Scene 6 Dialogue: Gloucester, Edgar

 

 

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

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

Read the full dialogue.

 

 

Understanding the Given Circumstances

  • Gloucester and Edmund were born noblemen in the court of King Lear, and both have been stripped of every shred of outward respectability and stability they once could rely on.
  • Regan and Cornwall blinded Gloucester in Act 3. He has found himself in the care of a beggar who calls himself Poor Tom.
  • “Poor Tom” is actually Gloucester’s estranged son Edgar. Edgar has been framed in a plot to destroy his father. Gloucester does not yet know that Edgar is innocent.
  • Gloucester is in despair. He has asked Poor Tom to take him to the Cliffs of Dover, which are situated on the southeast tip of England. When he gets to the cliffs, he will throw himself off, intending to end his life.
  • Edgar and his father are not actually near cliffs; they are in an open field near Dover. Edgar plans to use his father’s suicide attempt to shake him back into sensibility.
  • After Gloucester “falls,” Edgar pretends to be someone else who has found him at the bottom of the cliff.

 

Blocking and Movement

In theater, blocking is the process of planning the actors’ physical movements and positions. Be sure to show respect and establish trust when working with scene partners. As you prepare to block this scene, ask yourself the following questions:

  • Gloucester is newly blind; his eyes have been torn from their sockets. In other words, he has not had time to adjust to his new circumstances. How does this affect his movement?
  • Edgar is playing the role of Poor Tom. How does Poor Tom move? In character, does he move or perform differently even though Gloucester can’t see him? Is he good at playing the role? Is he consistent?
  • Gloucester asks Poor Tom to lead him to the edge of the Cliffs of Dover so he can leap to his death. There is no real danger, because they are in an open area, but the audience should still feel the tension. How could this scene be staged to demonstrate the emotional impact of Edgar’s trick?
  • What does the “fall” look like to the audience? Is there comedy despite the intensity of a suicide attempt?

 

Character Relationships

This scene is full of reversals and status shifts, not all of which are apparent to the characters themselves. At the top of the scene, Edgar acts the part of a low-status character, a peasant prone to madness known as “Poor Tom.” Gloucester has promised to pay Poor Tom to lead him to the edge of a steep cliff at the edge of the sea. From Gloucester’s point of view, his money and social position give him a certain status above Poor Tom: he can hire him to do his bidding. Even so, Gloucester knows he is dependent on Tom for guidance because he has recently lost his eyes.

We, the audience, know that “Tom” is Edgar, Gloucester’s son. Our perception of the status between Gloucester and Edgar is therefore different from Gloucester’s own. This tension can have both comic and dramatic effects, depending on the staging. For example, Edgar (as Tom) lies to Gloucester about where they are, taking advantage of his sightless father to shock the melancholy out of him. Gloucester makes a heartbreaking speech, which he thinks will be his last, blessing his son Edgar with his final breath. Gloucester briefly restores his status as a father and Edgar as his son.

Edgar does not trust his re-established status as an honored son, though. After Gloucester “recovers” from his imagined suicide attempt, Edgar now pretends to be another man, one with full control of his mental faculties and a more eloquent manner of speech. He continues the ruse against the blind Gloucester, telling him he has indeed fallen from the cliffs to the sea but traveled down light as a feather. Edgar’s elevated language reclaims some of his social status, but he does not dare to test whether his father’s “final” words would restore him to his place in the family.
 

Full Act 4, Scene 6 Dialogue: Gloucester, Edgar

 

Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR disguised in peasant clothing

GLOUCESTER

When shall we come to th’ top of that same hill?

EDGAR

You do climb up it now. Look how we labor.

GLOUCESTER

Methinks the ground is even.

EDGAR

Horrible steep.
Hark, do you hear the sea?

GLOUCESTER

No, truly.

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

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

EDGAR

You’re much deceived. In nothing am I changed
But in my garments.

GLOUCESTER

Methinks you’re better spoken.

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

Set me where you stand.

EDGAR

Give me your hand. You are now within a foot
Of th’ extreme verge. For all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.

GLOUCESTER

Let go my hand.

(gives EDGAR another purse)

Here, friend, ’s another purse, in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man’s taking. Fairies and gods
Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off.
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

EDGAR

Now fare you well, good sir.

GLOUCESTER

With all my heart.

EDGAR moves aside

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

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

EDGAR

Gone, sir. Farewell.
(aside) And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life when life itself
Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,
By this had thought been past. Alive or dead?—
Ho you, sir, friend! Hear you, sir? Speak.—
Thus might he pass indeed. Yet he revives.—
What are you, sir?

GLOUCESTER

Away, and let me die.

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

But have I fall’n, or no?

EDGAR

From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
Look up a-height. The shrill-gorged lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up.

GLOUCESTER

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

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

Too well, too well.

EDGAR

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

GLOUCESTER

A poor unfortunate beggar.

EDGAR

As I stood here below, methought his eyes
Were two full moons. He had a thousand noses,
Horns whelked and waved like the enragèd sea.
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think that the clearest gods, who make them honors
Of men’s impossibilities, have preserved thee.

GLOUCESTER

I do remember now. Henceforth I’ll bear
Affliction till it do cry out itself,
“Enough, enough,” and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man. Often ’twould say,
“The fiend, the fiend!” He led me to that place.

Back to Top