Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind

For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;

Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em:1
Take that of me,2 my friend, who have the power
To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
And, like a scurvy 3 politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.
Pull off my boots: harder, harder; so.
Edgar. O, matter and impertinency mix'd!

Reason in madness!

Now, now, now, now:

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster: Thou must be patient. We came crying hither: Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air We wawl,5 and cry. I will preach to thee: mark me. Gloster. Alack! alack the day!

Lear. When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools. This' a good block: -
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe

A troop of horse with felt: I'll put it in proof;
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.

7

Enter a Gentleman with Attendants.

Gentleman. O! here he is: lay hand upon him. Your most dear daughter

Lear. No rescue? What! a prisoner? I am even

1. i. e. qualify them, uphold them. 2. i. e. Accept that of me for truth, believe that of me.

3. Scurvy, worthless, contemptible. 4. Matter, sense. See note 1, page 84. 5. To wawl, to cry, to howl. 6. Lear's train of thought is thus explained by Steevens: "Upon the king's saying, I will preach to thee, the poet seems to have meant him to pull off his hat, and keep turning it and feeling it, in the attitude of one

Sir,

of the preachers of those times (whom I have seen so represented in ancient prints), till the idea of felt, which the good hat or block was made of, raises the stratagem in his brain of shoeing a troop of horse with a substance soft as that which he held and moulded between his hands. This makes him start from his preachment."

7. Kill, Kill! was the ancient cry of assult in the English army.

Use me well;

You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons,

I am cut to the brains.
Gentleman.

You shall have any thing.

Lear. No seconds? All myself?

Why, this would make a man a man of salt,1
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,

Ay, and for laying autumn's dust.
Gent.

Good Sir,

Lear. I will die bravely, Like a smug bridegroom. What! I will be jovial. Come, come; I am a king, masters, know that? Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. Lear. Then there 's life in it. Nay, an you get it,

you

you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

[Exit: Attendants follow.

Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,

Past speaking of 2 in a king!

Thou hast one daughter,

Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.3

Edgar. Hail, gentle Sir!

Gent. Sir, speed you:4 what 's your will? Edg. Do you hear aught, Sir, of a battle toward? 5 Gent. Most sure, and vulgar:6 every one hears that, Which can distinguish sound.

Edg.

How near 's the other army?

But, by your favour,8

Gent. Near, and on speedy foot; the main descry Stands on the hourly thought."

Edg.

I thank you, Sir: that 's all. Gent. Though that the queen on special cause is here, Her army is mov'd on.

Edg.

I thank you, Sir.

[Exit Gent. Gloster. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me:

1. i. e. would make a man a man of salt tears.

2. i. e. pitiful past speaking of, too pitiful to be expressed in words.

3. Twain, two: see note 1, page 74; her refers to Nature.

4. i. e. God speed you: an ancient form of greeting.

5. Toward, near at hand, imminent. See notes 1, page 30, and 4, page 57. 6. Vulgar, commonly spoken of. 7. i. e. every one who, &c. 8. i. e. with your permission (I ask). 9. The main body is expected to be descried every hour.

Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!

Edgar.

Well pray you, father.
Gloster. Now, good Sir, what are you?

Edg. A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows; Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,

1

Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I'll lead you to some biding.2

Glos.

Hearty thanks;

The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot!3

Oswald.

Enter OSWALD.

4

A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember: 5 the sword is out
That must destroy thee.

Glos.

Put strength enough to it.

Osw.

Now let thy friendly hand

[EDGAR interposes.

Wherefore, bold peasant,

Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
Lest that th' infection of his fortune take

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without varther 'casion. 6
Osw. Let go, slave, or thou diest.

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. An ch'ud ha' been zwagger'd out of my life, 't would not ha' been zo long as 't is by a vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man; keep out, che vor'ye, or ise try

1. Who, schooled by the sorrows which I have myself known and felt, am full of pity for those of others.

2. Biding, habitation.

3. To boot, over and above, besides; i. e. may the bounty and blessing of heaven repay you with reward upon reward.

4. Unhappy here signifies mischievous, in which sense it is now obsolete... 5. i. e. remember and repent of thy sins quickly.

6. I'll not let go, sir, without farther occasion. Edgar adopts the dialect of a Somersetshire peasant, the chief characteristics of which are that ƒ sounds like v, s like z, and the pronoun I is che or ch'.

7. i. e. go your way. Gait is still

so used in the north.

8. If I had allowed myself to be bullied out of my life, it would have been shorter than it is by a fortnight.

whether your costard or my ballow be the harder.1 Ch'ill be plain with you.

Oswald. Out, dunghill!

Edgar. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir. Come; no matter vor your foins.2 [They fight; and EDGAR knocks him down. Oswald. Slave, thou hast slain me.

Villain, take

my purse.

If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
And give the letters which thou find'st about me
To Edmund earl of Gloster: seek him out
Upon the English party:

O, untimely death!

Edg. I know thee well: a serviceable villain; As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,

Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of
May be my friends. He 's dead; I am only sorry
He had no other death's-man. 3 Let us see:
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their, hearts,
Their papers is more lawful.

4

[Dies.

[Reads.] "Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror; then, am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol, from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour. "Your (wife, so I would say) "affectionate servant, GONERIL."

O, undistinguish'd space of woman's will!6

A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;

And the exchange, my brother! Here, in the sands,

1. I warn you, or else try whether your head or my cudgel be the harder. 2. Foins, thrusts, i. e. I care nothing for your fencing.

3. Meaning, he is sorry that he did not die by the hands of the common hangman, as he deserved.

4. i. e. to rip their papers, &c.

5. If you be not wanting in the will, time and place will be abundantly offered.

6. 0, undistinguishing licentiousness of a woman's inclinations!

Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified1

Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time, 2
With this ungracious paper strike the sight

3

Of the death-practis'd duke. For him 't is well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.

Gloster. The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense, That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling

Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract;

So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves.

Edgar.

[Drum afar off.

[Exeunt.

Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father: I'll bestow you with a friend.

SCENE VII.

A Tent in the French Camp. LEAR on a Bed, asleep; Doctor, Gent-
leman, and Others, attending: Enter CORDELIA and KENT.

Cordelia. O thou good Kent! how shall I live and work
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.

5

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'er-paid.
All my reports go with the modest truth,

Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so. 6

Cor.

Be better suited: 7

These weeds are memories of those worser hours. 8
I pr'ythee, put them off.

I can measure my gratitude to you will be too small.

1. Thee I'll rake up, thee I'll cover, 5. And every standard by which or bury. In Staffordshire, to rake the fire is to cover it with fuel for the night. The post is the messenger. Unsanctified refers to his want of burial in consecrated ground.

2. i. e. when the time is ripe, when the proper time arrives.

3. i. e. the duke whose life has been sought (by Goneril). See notes 1, page 33, and 4, page 44.

4. How inflexible and base is my soul, that I still retain my bodily powers, and have a poignant sense of my great misfortunes, at a time when the king is mad.

6. All my reports agree exactly with the truth; they are neither exaggerated nor curtailed, but according to the truth. Modest, moderate, within