SCENE IX.
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,
5 noteBriefly thyself remember. The sword is out,
That must destroy thee.
Glo.
Let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to it.
[Edgar opposes.
Stew.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence,
-- 133 --
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 gaite, and let poor
volk pass. And 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out of my
life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight.
Nay, come not near the old man; keep out, 6 noteche
vor'ye, or ise try whether your costard 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 foyns.
[Edgar knocks him down.
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 Glo'ster; 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.
Glo.
What, is he dead?
Edg.
Sit you down, father; rest you.
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;
7 note
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts;
Their papers are more lawful.
-- 134 --
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 offer'd. There
is nothing done, if he return the conqueror. 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,
Gonerill.
8 noteOh, undistinguish'd space of woman's Will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life,
And the exchange my brother. Here, i'th' sands
9 noteThee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murd'rous lechers; and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of 1 notethe death practis'd Duke; for him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.
Glo.
The King is mad; how stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, 2 noteand have ingenious Feeling
-- 135 --
Of my huge sorrows; better I were distract,
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
[Drum afar off.
And woes, by wrong imagination, lose
The knowledge of themselves.
Edg.
Give me your hand.
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, further. I'll bestow you with a friend.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
