Reg.
But are my Brother's Powers set forth?

Stew.
Ay, Madam.

Reg.
Himself in person there?

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

Reg.
Lord Edmund spake not with ^{5 note}your Lady at home?

Stew.
No, Madam.

Reg.
What might import my sister's letter to him?

Stew.
I know not, Lady.

Reg.
'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ign'rance, Glo'ster'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 strength o'th' enemy.

Stew.
I must needs after him, Madam, with my letter.

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 business.

Reg.
Why should she write to Edmund? might not you
Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
Something—I know not what—I'll love thee much—
* ^noteLet me unseal 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 œiliads, and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know, you're of her bosom.

Stew.
I, Madam?

Reg.
I speak in understanding: you are; I know't:
Therefore, ^{6 note}I do advise you, take this note.
My Lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd,
And more convenient is he for my hand,
Than for your Lady's. ^{7 note}You may gather more.
If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
And when your Mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her6Q0206. So farewel,
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

Stew.
'Would I could meet him, Madam, I should shew
^{8 note}What party I do follow.

Reg.
Fare thee well. 9 ^noteSCENE VI.

The Country, near Dover. Enter Glo'ster, and Edgar, as a Peasant.

Glo.
When shall I come to th' 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 eye's anguish.

Glo.
So may it be, indeed.
Methinks, ^{1 note}thy voice is alter'd; 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.—^{2 note}
How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs, 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 fisher-men, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,

Diminish'd to ^{3 note}her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumbred 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' extream verge; ^{4 note}

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 I do 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.

Edg.
Good Sir, farewel.
—And yet I know not how Conceit may rob

The treasury of life, ^{5 note}
when life itself
Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past.—Alive or dead?
Hoa, you, hear you, friend?—Sir! Sir!—Speak!
^{6 note}Thus might he pass, indeed—yet he revives.
What are you, Sir?

Glo.
Away, and let me die.

Edg.
6Q0207Had'st thou been aught but Goss'mer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg; but thou dost breathe,
Hast heavy substance, bleed'st not; speak'st, art sound.
^{7 note}

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

Edg.
From the dread summit of this * ^notechalky 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.
This is above all strangeness.
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, and wav'd like the enridged sea.
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think, that ^{8 note}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.
* ^noteBear free and patient thoughts.

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