Cor.
O, thou good Kent, how shall I live and work
To match thy Goodness? life will be too short,
And ev'ry measure fail me.

Kent.
To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'erpaid;
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:
I pr'ythee, put them off.

Kent.
Pardon, 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 lord.—How does the King? [To the Physician.

Phys.
Madam, sleeps still.

Cor.
O you kind Gods!
Cure this great breach in his abused nature;
Th' untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father.

Phys.
Please your Majesty,
That we may wake the King, he hath slept long?

Cor.
Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I'th' sway of your own will: is he array'd? Enter Lear in a chair, carried by servants.

Phys.
Ay, Madam; in the heaviness of sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.
Be by, good Madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor.
O my dear father! Restauration, 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 dearest Princess!

Cor.
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face,
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep, dread-bolted Thunder?(53) ^note
In the most terrible and nimble Stroke
Of quick, cross Lightning? To watch poor Perdue,
With this thin Helm?—My very Enemy's Dog,
Though he had bit me, shou'd 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'th' 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'm 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 hand 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; 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'm mainly ignorant,
What place this is; and all the skill I have,
Remembers not these garments; nay, 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 you, 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, 'twere Danger
To make him even o'er the Time, h'as lost.
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more,
Till further settling.

Cor.
Will't please your Highness walk?

Lear.
You must bear with me;
Pray you now, forget and forgive;
I am old and foolish. [Exeunt Lear, Cord. Phys. and Attendants. Manent Kent and Gentleman.

Gent.
Holds it true, Sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?(54) ^note

Kent.
Most certain, Sir.

Gent.
Who is Conductor of his people?

Kent.
As 'tis said, the Bastard Son of Glo'ster.

Gent.
They say, Edgar, his banisht Son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.

Kent.
Report is changeable; 'Tis time to look about: the Powers of the Kingdom approach apace.

Gent.
The Arbitrement is like to be bloody.—Fare you well, Sir. [Exit Gent.

Kent.
My Point and Period will be throughly wrought,
Or well, or ill, as this day's Battle's fought. [Exit Kent.

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