Cord.
His sleep is sound, and may have good effect
To cure his jarring senses, and repair
This breach of nature.

Phys.
We have employ'd the utmost pow'r of art,
And this deep rest will perfect our design.

Cord.
O Regan! Goneril! inhuman sisters!
Had he not been your father, these white hairs
Had challeng'd sure some pity! Was this a face
To be expos'd against the jarring winds?
My enemy's dog, tho' he had bit me, shou'd
Have stood that night against my fire.—He wakes; speak to him.

Phys.
Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.

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

Lear.
You do me wrong, to take me out o'th' grave.
Ha! is this too a world of cruelty?
I know my privilege; think not that I will
Be us'd still like a wretched mortal: no,
No more of that.

Cord.
Speak to me, sir; who am I?

Lear.
You are a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that my own tears
Do scald like molten lead.

Cord.
Sir, do you know me?

Lear.
You are a spirit, I know; when did you die?

Cord.
Still, still, far wide—

Phys.
Madam, he's scarce awake; he'll soon grow more compos'd.

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 will not swear
These are my hands.

Cord.
O look upon me, sir,
And hold your hand in blessing o'er me; nay,
You must not kneel.

Lear.
Pray, do not mock me;
I am a very foolish, fond old man,
Fourscore and upward; and to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.

Cord.
Nay, then farewel to patience: witness for me,
Ye mighty pow'rs, I ne'er complain'd till now!

Lear.
Methinks I shou'd know you, and know this man:
Yet, I am doubtful; for I'm mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have,
Remembers not these garments; nor do I know
Where I did sleep last night.—Pray do not mock me,
For, as I am a man, I think that lady
To be my child Cordelia.

Cord.
O my dear, dear father!

Lear.
Be your tears wet? Yes faith; pray do not weep.
I know I have giv'n thee cause, and am so humbled
With crosses since, that I cou'd ask
Forgiveness of thee, were it possible
That thou cou'dst grant it; but I'm well assur'd
Thou can'st not; therefore, I do stand thy justice;
If thou hast poison for me I will drink it,
Bless thee, and die

Cord.
O pity, sir, a bleeding heart, and cease
This killing language.

Lear.
Tell me, friends, where am I?

Phys.
In your own kingdom, sir.

Lear.
do not abuse me.

Phys.
Be comforted, good madam, for the violence
Of his distemper's past; we'll lead him in,
Nor trouble him, 'till he is better settled.
Will't please you, sir, walk into freer air?

Lear.
You must bear with me, I am old and foolish. [They lead him off.

Cord.
The Gods restore you. [A distant march.
Hark, I hear afar
The beaten drum. Old Kent's a man of's word.
Oh! for an arm
Like the fierce thunderer's, when the earth-born sons
Storm'd Heav'n, to fight this injur'd father's battle!
That I cou'd shift my sex, and dye me deep
In his opposer's blood! But, as I may,
With women's weapons, piety, and prayers,
I'll aid his cause.—You never erring Gods,
Fight on his side, and thunder on his foes
Such tempests as his poor ag'd head sustain'd:
Your image suffers, when a monarch bleeds.
'Tis your own cause, for that your succours bring;
Revenge yourselves, and right an injur'd king. [Exit.

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