Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of in a king !-Thou hast one daughter, Who redeems nature from the general curse Which twain have brought her to.

Edg. Hail, gentle sir.

Gent. Sir, speed you: What's your will?

Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? Gent. Most sure, and vulgar: every one hears that, Which can distinguish sound.

Edg. But, by your favour,

How near's the other army?

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 ariny is mov'd on.

Edg. I thank you, sir.

[Exit Gent.

Glo. You ever gentle gods, take my breath from me

Let not my worser spirit tempt me again

To die before you please!

Edg. Well pray you, father.

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

Glo. Hearty thanks:

The bounty and the benizon of Heaven

To boot, and boot!

Enter Sterward.

Stew. 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 :-The sword is out That must destroy thee.

Glo. Now let thy friendly hand

Put strength enough to it.

Sew. Wherefore, bold peasant,

[EDGAR opposes.

Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;

Lest that the infection of his fortune take

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

Edg. Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. Stew. Let go, slave, or thou ́dy'st.

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been swagger'd'out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man; keep out, che vor'ye, or ise try whether your costard or my bat be the harder: Ch'ill be plain with you.

Stew. Out, dunghill!

Edg. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: Come; no matter vor your foyns. [EDGAR knocks him dorin. Stew. 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,

death!

Edg. I know thee well: a serviceable villain;

As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,

As badness would desire.

Glo. What, is he dead?

Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you.

[Dies.

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

Reads the Letter..

You have many

Let our reciprocal vows be remember'd. 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 loath'd warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant,

O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!

H

GONERIL

A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;

And the exchange, my brother!-Here, in the sands,
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified

Of murderous lechers: and, in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd duke: For him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell,

[Exit EDGAR, removing the Body.
Glo. 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.

Re-enter EDGAR.

Edg. Give me your hand :

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

A Tent in the French Camp.

Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Physician.

Cor. 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.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpay'd. All my reports go with the modest truth;

Nor more, nor clipt, but so.

Cor. Be better suited:

These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
Ipr'ythee, put them off.

Kent, Pardon me, dear madam;

Yet to be known, shortens my made intent :

My boon I make it, that you know me not,

'Till time and I think meet.

Cor. Then be it so, my good lord.

How does the king?

Phys. Madam, sleeps still.

Cor. O you kind gods,

[To the Physician.

Cure this great breach in his abused nature!

1

The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up,
Of this child-changed father!

Phys. So please your majesty,

That we may wake the king? he hath slept long. Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd

LEAR is brought in in a Chair.

Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep, We put fresh garments on him.

Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor. Very well.

Phys. Please you, draw near.-Louder the musick there!

Cor. O my dear father! Restoration, hang

Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss

Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!

Kent. Kind and dear princess!

Cor. Had you not been their father, these white flakes

Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face
To be expos'd against the warring winds?

To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick, cross lightning to watch (poor perdu !)
With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog,

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire? And wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw ? Alack, alack !
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once

Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.
Phys. Madam, do you ;tis fittest.

Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty ?

Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave: Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

Do scald like molten lead.

Cor. Sir, do you know me ?

Lear. You are a spirit, I know: When did you die? Cor. Still, still, far wide!

Phys. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile.

Lear. Where have I been? Where am I?-Fair day-light?

I am mightily abus'd.—I should even die with pity,
To see another thus.-I know not what to say.-
I will not swear these are my hands-let's see;
I feel this pin prick. 'Would I were assur'd

Of my condition.

Cor. O, look upon me, sir,

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me :→→→
No, sir, you must not kneel.

Lear. Pray, do not mock me!

I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward;

Not an hour more, nor less: and, to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks, I should know you, and know this man
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night: Do not laugh at me ;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady

To be my child Cordelia.

Cor. And so I am, I am!

Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not;

If you have poison for me I will drink it.

I know you do not love me; for your sisters.
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
You have some cause, they have not.

Cor. No cause, no cause..

Lear. Am I in France?

Kent. In your own kingdom, sir.

Lear. Do not abuse me..

Phys. Be comforted, good madam: the great rage, You see, is cur'd in him: [and yet it is danger

To make him even o'er the time he has lost.]
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more,

'Till further settling.

Cor. Will't please your highness wälk ?