Gent. No, fince.

Kent. Well, Sir; the poor distressed Lear's in town; Who sometimes, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about; and by no means Will yield to see his daughter.

Gent. Why, good Sir?

Kent. A fov'reign shame fo bows him; his unkindness,
That stript her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters; These things Ating him
So venomously, that burning shame detains him
From his Cordelia.

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman !
Kent. Of Albany's, and Cornwall's pow'rs you heard not?
Gent. 'Tis so, they are a-foot.

Kent. Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile :
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve:
Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me.

SCENE, a Camp.
Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldierse
Lack, tis he; why, he was met even now

As mad as the vext fea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiterr, and furrow-weeds, (46)

With (4.6) Crown'd with rark fenitar;] There is no such herb, or weed, that I can find, of Englis growth; tho' all the copies agree in the corruption. I dare fay, I have restor*d its right name; and we meet with it again in our author's Henry V. and partly in the same com. pany as we have it here;

her fallow leas
The darnel, bemlock, and rank fumitory

Do root upon.
For this weed is callid both fumitory and fumiterr, nearer to the
French derivation fume-terre: which the Latin shopmen term fumariæ
It is the same, which by Pliny (from Dioscorides and the other Greek
physicians) is named xarvosi because the juice of it has the effect,


With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn.

Send forth a cent’ry;
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye.

What can man's wisdom
In the reitoring his bereaved fense,
He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.

Phys. There are means, Madam :
Our foster nurse of nature, is repose;
The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many fimples operative, whose power
Will close the

eye of anguish.
Cor. All bleft fecrets,
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears ; be aidant, and remediate
In the good man's distress! seek, seek for him;
Left his ungovern'd rage diffolve the life,
That wants the means to lead it...

Enter a Messengers
Mej. News, Madam ;
The British pow'rs are marching hitherward.

Cor. 'T'is known before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them. O dear, father,
It is thy business that I go about: therefore great France
My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and see him!


which smoke has, of making the eyes water. And as to the growth of it, Pliny tells us particularly that it Springs up in gardens and fields of barley; (Nafcitur in bortis et fegetibus bordeaceis) which our author here calls, in our sustaining corn. I observe, in Cbaucer it is written femetere; by a corruption either of the scribe, or of vulgar pronunciation; if of the latter, it might from thence easily. Dides in progress of time, into fenitar


SCENE, Regan's Palace.


UT are my


Enter Regan, and Steward.

brother's powers set forth?
Stew. Ay, madam.
Reg. Himself in person there?

Stew. With much ado.
Your sister is the better foldier.

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lady at home?
Stew. No, madam.
Reg. What might import my fifter's letter to him?
Stew. I know not, Lady,

Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ign'rance, Glo'fter's eyes being out,
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us : Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his misery, to dispatch
His nighted life: moreover to descry
The ftrength o' the enemy.

Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my letters Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us: The ways are dangerous.

Stew. I may not, madam;
My Lady charg'd my duty in this bufiness.

Reg. Why should the write to Edmund? might not your
Transport her purposes by word? belike,
Something I know not what I'll love thee much
Let me unreal the letter.

Stew. Madam, I had rather

Reg. I know, your Lady does not love her husband : I'm sure of that; and, at her late being here, She gave strange ceiliads, and most speaking looks To noble Edmund. I know, you're of her bosom.

Ştew. I, madam ? Reg. I speak in understanding: you are; I know't; Therefore, I do advise you, take this note. My Lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd, And more convenient is he for my hands,


gran for your Lady's: you may gather more :
If you do find him, pray you, give him this ;
And when your mistress hears thus much froin you,

pray, defire her call her wisdom to her. So farewel. If you

do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

Stewa'Would I could meet him, madam, I should few What party I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well.


S Ç E N E, the Country, near Dover.

Enter Glo'fter, and Edgar, as a Peafart. Glo. Hen shall I come to th' top of that same hilli

Edg. You do up it . Lookhow Glo. Methinks, the ground is even. [we labour. Edg. Horrible steep. Hark, do


hear the sea ? Glo. No, truly.

Edg. Why then your other senses grow imperfe &
By your eyes anguish.

Glo. So may it be, indeed.
Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak't
In better phrase and matter than thou didft.

Edg. You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments.
Glo. Sure, you're better spoken.

(fearful Edg. Come on, Sir, here's the place --Atand ftill. How And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, 'Shew scarce fo gross as beetles. Half way down Hangs one, that gathers famphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he feems no bigger than his head. The fisher-men, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice, and yond tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almoft too small for fight. The murmuring surge, That on th' unnumbred idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,


me, where


Leít my brain turn, and the deficient fight
Topple down headlong.
Glo. Set


ftand. Edg. Give me your hand: you're now within a foos Of th' extream verge: for all below the moon Would I not leap upright.

Glo. Let go my hand : 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 further off, Bid me farewel, and let me hear thee going.

Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir. [Seems to go. Gle. With all my heart. Edg. Why do I trifle thus with his despair? Tis done to cure it.

Glo. O you mighty gods ! This world I do renounce; and in your fights Shake patiently my great afiliation off : If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, My inuff and loathed part of nature should Burn itself out. If Edgar live, o bless him! Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps and falls along. Edg. Good Sir, farewel. I know not how conceit


rob The treasury of life, when life itself Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought, By this, had thought been pait. -Alive or dead? Hoa, you, hear you, friend! Sir! Sir! speak! Thus might he pass, indeed yet he revives, What are you, Sir ?

Glo. Away, and let me die.

Edg. Had't thou been aught but goss'mer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thou’d'it shiver'd like an egg: but thou doft breathe, Haft heavy substance, bleed'i not; speak, art sound? Ten mafts at each make not the altitude, (47)

Which (47) Ten maßis attach'd-] This is Mr. Pope's reading; but I know not from what authority. Mr. Rowe gave is us, ten mafts at

And yet

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