I’m theirs. A little covert craft, my boy,
And then for open action; twill be employment
Worthy such honest daring souls as thine.
Thou, Edmund, art my trusty emissary.
Haste on the spur, at the first break of day,
With these despatches to the duke of Cambray. -
(gives him letters)
You know what mortal feuds have always flamed
Between this duke of Cornwall's family, and his;
Full twenty thousand mountaineers
Th’ inveterate prince will send to our assistance.
Despatch; commend us to his grace, and prosper.
[exit Gloster
Falm. Yes, credulous old man,
I will commend you to his grace,
His grace the duke of Cornwall:—instantly,
I’ll show him these contents in thy own character,
And seal’d with thy own signet; then forthwith
The chol’ric duke gives sentence on thy life ;
And to my hand thy vast revenues fall,
To glut my pleasures, that till now have starved.

GLost ER returns. followed by cord ELIA and ARANTHR, poorly dressed—Edmund observing at a distance.

Cord. Turn, Gloster, turn; by all the sacred pow'rs, I do conjure you give my griefs a hearing: (kneels) You must, you shall, nay, I am sure you will ; For you were always styled the just and good. Glost. What would'st thou, princess P rise, and speak thy griefs. Cord. Nay, you shall promise to redress them too, Or here I’ll kneel for ever, I entreat Thy succor for a father, and a king, An injured father, and an injured king. Edm O charming sorrows! how her tears adorn her! Glost. Consider, princess, (raises her) For who,thou begg'st, tis for the king that wrong'd thee. Cord. O name not that ; he did not, could not wrong me. Nay, muse not, Gloster; for it is too likely This injured king ere this is past your aid, And gone distracted with his savage wrongs. Edm. I’ll gaze no more ; and yet my eyes are charm’d, Cord. Or, what if it be worse?—can there be worse? Ah, tis too probable, this furious night Has pierced his tender body; the bleak winds And cold rain chill'd, or lightning struck, him dead; If it be so, your promise is discharged, And I have only one poor boon to beg; That you’d convey me to his breathless trunk, With my torn robes to wrap his hoary head, With my torn hair to bind his hands and feet, Then with a shower of tears To wash his clay-smear'd cheeks, and die beside him. Glost. Oh, fair Cordelia, thou hast piety Enough t'atone for both thy sisters' crimes; I have already plotted to restore My injured master, and thy virtue tells me We shall succeed, and suddenly. [exit Głoster " Cord. Despatch, Aranthe ; For in this disguise, we’ll instantly Go seek the king, and bring him some relief. Aran. How, madam ' are you ignorant That your most impious sisters have decreed Immediate death for any that relieve him? Cord. I cannot dread the furies in this case. Aran. In such a night as this consider, madan. For many miles about there's scarce a bush To shelter in. Cord. Therefore no shelter for the king. And more our charity to find him out. What have not women dared for vicious love . And we'll be shining proofs that they can dare For piety as much. (thunder) Blow winds, and lightnings fall; Bold in my virgin innocence I'll fly

My royal father to relieve, or die,
[e reunt Cordelia and Aranthe
Edm. In this disguise, we’ll instantly
Go seek the king ! ha has a lucky change:
That virtue, which I fear'd would be my hind’rance,
Has proved the bawd to my design. -
I’ll bribe two ruffians shall at distance follow,
And seize them in some desert place; and there
Whilst one retains her, t'other shall return
“T” inform me where she's lodged: I’ll be disguised too.
Whilst they are poaching for me, I’ll to the duke
With these despatches: then to the field,
Where, like the vigorous Jove, I will enjoy
This Semele in a storm ; twill deaf her cries,
Like drums in battle, lest her groans should pierce
My pitying ear, and make the am’rous fight less fierce.

sc ENE 11.1—another part of the heath—rain—thunder —lightning.

enter king LEAR and KENT.

Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter : The tyranny of this open night's too rough For nature to endure. £ear. Let me alone. Jóent. Good my lord, enter. ALear. Wilt break my heart? Rent. I’d rather break my own. A.ear. Thou think'st tis much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin; so tis to thee; But where the greater malady is fix’d, The lesser is scarce felt: the tempest in my mind Does from my senses take all feeling else, Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand For lifting food to't’—but I’ll punish home! Ty

No, I will weep no more. (rain—thunder—lightning)
In such a night
To shut me out ! pour on, I will endure—
In such a night as this o Regan, Goneril 1
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all-
Oh, that way madness lies! let me shun that ;
No more of that.
Rent. See, my lord, here’s the entrance.
Lear. Well, I’ll go in, -
And pass it all: I’ll pray, and then I'll sleep. -
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That 'bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides
Sustain this shock? your raggedness defend you
From seasons such as these ? oh, I have ta'en
Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp ;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'st cast the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just
Edg. (in the hovel) Five fathom and a half–Poor
Rent. What art thou that dost grumble there i' th'
Come forth.

enter EDGAR, disguised.

Edg. Away ! the foul fiend follows me—through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind—mum, go to thy bed and warm thee ha what do I see P By all my griefs, the poor old king bare headed, And drench'd in this foul storm 1 professing syrens, Are all your protestations come to this?

Lear. Tell me, fellow, didst thou give all to thy two daughters P

Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom, whom the foul fiend has led through fire and through flame, through bushes and bogs? that has laid knives under his willow, and halters in his pew ; that has made him proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting horse over fourinched bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor? bless thy five wits Tom’s a cold. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star blasting, and taking ! do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. Sa, sa ; there I could have him now, and there, and there as airl. *Eear. What, have his daughters brought him to * this pass 2 Could'st thou save nothing 2 didst thou give them all? Kent. He has no daughter, sir. A, ear. Death ! traitor, nothing could have subdu'd nature To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters. \\ Edg. Pillicock sat upon pillicock hill; hallo, hallo, allo. Lear. Is it the fashion that discarded fathers Should have such little mercy on their flesh? Judicious punishment twas this flesh begot Those pelican daughters. Ajag. Take heed of the foul fiend; obey thy parents ; keep thy word justly ; swear not ; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. (wind and rain) Tom's a cold. Dear. What hast thou been P Edg. A serving-man, proud of heart; that curled my hair; used perfume and washes; that served the lust of my mistresses heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spoke words; and broke them all in the sweet face of heaven: let not the paint, nor the patch, nor the rustling of silks, be: tray thy poor heart to woman; keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from creditors’ books and defy the foul fiend. (wind and rain) Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind–Ha, no nonny, dolphin, my boy, my boy, sessa ; let him trot by. Ž. Death! thou wert better in thy grave, than thus to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the sky Yet consider him well, and man's no more than this; thou art indebted to the worm for no silk,

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