Glo.
When shall I come to the top of that same hill?

Edg.
You do climb up it now. Look, how we labour.

Glo.
Methinks the ground is even.

Edg.
Horrible steep.
Hark, do you hear the sea?

Glo.
No, truly.

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

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

Edg.
You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments.

Glo.
Sure, you're better spoken.

Edg.
Come on, sir, here's the place—stand still. How fearful* ^note
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs,† ^note that wing the midway air,
Shew scarce so gross as beetles. Half way 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 you tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

Glo.
Set me where you stand.

Edg.
Give me your hand: you're now within a foot
Of th' extreme 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.

Glo.
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 do I 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 loathed part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O bless him!
Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps, and falls along.* ^note

Edg.
Good sir, farewel.
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life. Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past—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'st thou been aught but goss'mer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou'd'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe,
Hast heavy substance, bleed'st not; speak, art sound?
Ten masts at each make not the altitude,
Which thou hast perpendicularly fall'n.
Thy life's a miracle.

Glo.
But have I fall'n, or no?

Edg.
From the dread summit of this chalky bourn!

Look up a height, the shrill-gorg'd lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up.

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

Edg.
Give me your arm.
Up, so—how is't? Feel you your legs? You stand.

Glo.
Too well, too well.

Edg.
Upon the crown o'th' cliff, what thing was that,
Which parted from you?

Glo.
A poor unfortunate beggar.

Edg.
As I stood here below, methought his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
Horns welk'd,* ^note and wav'd, like the enridged sea:
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think, that the clearest Gods, who make them honours,
Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee.

Glo.
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.

Edg.
Bear free and patient thoughts. Enter Lear, drest madly with Flowers.
But who comes here?

Lear.

No, they cannot touch me for coining. I am the king himself.

Edg.

O thou side piercing sight:

Lear.

Nature's above art in that respect. There's your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper: draw me a cloathier's yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace;—there's my gauntlet, I'll prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown barb! i'th' clout, i'th' clout: hewgh. —Give the word.

Edg.

Sweet marjoram.

Lear.

Pass.

Glo.

I know that voice.

Lear.

Ha! Gonerill! ha! Regan! they flatter'd me like a dog, and told me I had white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there. To say, ay, and no, to hear every thing that I said—Ay, and no too, was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are not men o' their words; they told me, I was every thing: 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.

Glo.
The trick of that voice I do well remember:
Is't the king?

Lear.
Ay, every inch a king.
When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life. What was the cause?

Adultery? thou shalt not die; die for adultery! no, the wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does letcher in my sight. Let copulation thrive; for Gloster's bastard son was kinder to his father, than my daughters, got 'tween the lawful sheets. To't luxury, pellmell; for I lack soldiers.

Glo.
O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought.

Lear.

Behold yon simpering dame, whose face 'tween her forks presages snow: that minces virtue, and does shake the head to hear of pleasure's name. The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to't with a more riotous appetite: down from the waist they are centaurs, tho' women all above; but to the girdle do the gods inherit, beneath is all the fiend. There's hell, there's darkness, there's the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption: fie, fie, fie; pah, pah; give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination! there's money for thee.* ^note

Glo.

O, let me kiss that hand.

Lear.

Let me wipe it first, it smells of mortality.

Glo.

Dost thou know me?

Lear.

I remember thine eyes well enough! no, do thy worst, blind Cupid; I'll not love. Read thou this challenge, mark but the penning of it.

Glo.

Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.

Lear.

Read.

Glo.

What, with this case of eyes?

Lear.

Oh, oh, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? yet you see how this world goes.

Glo.

I see it, feelingly.

Lear.

What, art mad? a man may see how this world goes, with no eyes! Look with thine ears: see, how yon justice rails upon yon simple thief. Hark, in thine ear; change places, and handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?

Glo.

Ay, sir.

Lear.

And the creature run from the cur. There thou might'st behold the great image of authority; a dog's obey'd, in office.—

Edg.
O matter and impertinence mixt,
Reason in madness.
I would not take this from report.

Wretched Cordelia!
What will thy virtue do, when thou shalt find
This fresh affliction added to the tale
Of thy unparallel'd griefs.

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 wawle and cry. I will preach to thee; mark—

Glo.
Alack, alack! the day!

Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools.— Enter Two Gentlemen.

Gent.
O, here he is, lay hand upon him; sir,
Your most dear daughter—

Lear.
No rescue? what, a prisoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune. Use me well,
You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons,
I am cut to th' brains.

Gent.
You shall have any thing.

Lear.
No seconds? all myself?
I will die bravely,
Like a smug bride-groom. What? I will be jovial.
Come, come, I am king, my masters, know you that?

Gent.
You are a royal one, and we obey you.

Lear.
It were an excellent stratagem,
To shoe a troop of horse with felt;
I'll put 't in proof—No noise, no noise—
Now will we steal upon these sons in law,
And then, kill, kill, kill. [Exit, led by two Gent.

Glo.
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a king.
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 heav'n
To boot, and boot!— Enter Steward.

Stew.
A proclaim'd prize! most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh,
To raise my fortunes. Old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember; the sword is out,
That must destroy thee.

Glo.
Let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to't.

Stew.
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 vurther 'casion.

Stew.
Let go, slave, or thou dy'st.

Edg.

Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pass; and 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out o' my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vo'ye, or ise try whether your costard† ^note or my bat be the harder; chill be plain with you.

Stew.

Out, dunghill!

Edg.

Chill pick your teeth, zir; come, no matter vor your soyns.

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. Oh, untimely death!— [Dies.

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

Let's see these pockets; the letters that he speaks of,
May be my friends. He's dead; I'm only sorry,
He had no other death's-man. Let us see—
By your leave, gentle wax—and manners blame us not;
To know our enemies minds, we rip their hearts;
Their papers are more lawful. Reads the letter.

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 conquerer. 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.

Edg.
Give me your hand: [A distant march.
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt.* ^note End of the Fourth Act.

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