Edg.
^{9 note}

The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear^{1 note}
:
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. ^{2 note}Welcome then,
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace!
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts².—But who comes here? Enter Gloster, led by an old man.
My father, poorly led?—^{3 note}

Old Man.

O my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore years.

Glo.
Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee they may hurt.

Old Man.
Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.

Glo.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw: Full oft 'tis seen,
^{4 note}

Prove our commodities.—O, dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath!
Might I but live to see thee in my touch^{5 note},
I'd say, I had eyes again!

Old Man.
How now? Who's there?

Edg. [Aside.]
O gods! ^{6 note}




Who is't can say, I am at the worst?
I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man.
'Tis poor mad Tom.

Edg. [Aside.]
And worse I may be yet: The worst is not,
So long as we can say, This is the worst.

Old. Man.
Fellow, where goest?

Glo.
Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man.
Madman and beggar too.

Glo.
He has some reason, else he could not beg.

I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
Which made me think a man a worm: My son
Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard more since:
^{7 note}

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods;
They kill us for their sport.

Edg.
How should this be?—
Bad is the trade, that must play the fool to sorrow,
^{8 note}Ang'ring itself and others. [Aside.]—Bless thee, master!

Glo.
Is that the naked fellow?

Old Man.
Ay, my lord.

Glo.
Then, pr'ythee, get thee gone: If, for my sake,
Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,
I' the way to Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some covering for this naked soul,
Whom I'll intreat to lead me.

Old Man.
Alack, sir, he is mad.

Glo.
'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind:
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;
Above the rest, be gone.

Old Man.
I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have,
Come on't what will. [Exit.

Glo.
Sirrah, naked fellow.

Edg.
Poor Tom's a-cold.—^{9 note}

Glo.
Come hither, fellow.

Edg. [Aside.]
And yet I must.
—Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

Glo.
Know'st thou the way to Dover?

Edg.

Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor Tom hath been scar'd out of his good wits: Bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! [Five ^{1 note}fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness: Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since ^{2 note}

chamber-maids and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master!]

Glo.
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heaven's plagues
Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched,
Makes thee the happier:—Heavens, deal so still!
^{3 note}Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man,
^{4 note}

Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;
So distribution should undo excess,
And each man have enough.—Dost thou know Dover?

Edg.
Ay, master.

Glo.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully on the confined deep:
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear,
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no leading need.

Edg.
Give me thy arm;
Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The duke of Albany's palace. Enter Goneril, and Edmund.

Gon.
Welcome, my lord: I marvel, ^{5 note}our mild husband
Not met us on the way:—Now, where's your master?

Enter Steward.

Stew.
Madam, within; but never man so chang'd:
I told him of the army that was landed;
He smil'd at it: I told him, you were coming;
His answer was, The worse: of Gloster's treachery,
And of the loyal service of his son,
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot;
And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out:—
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.

Gon.
Then shall you go no further. [To Edmund.
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs,
Which tie him to an answer: ^{6 note}
Our wishes, on the way,
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers:
I must change arms^{7 note} at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistresses command. Wear this; spare speech; [Giving a favour.
^{8 note}
Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air;—

Conceive, and fare thee well.

Edm.
Yours in the ranks of death.

Gon.
My most dear Gloster! [Exit Edmund.
O, the difference of man, and man^{9 note}!
To thee a woman's services are due;
^{1 note}

My fool usurps my body.

Stew.
Madam, here comes my lord. Enter Albany.

Gon.
^{2 note}

Alb.
O Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face.—^{3 note}I fear your disposition:
That nature, which contemns its origin,
^{4 note}Cannot be border'd certain in itself;
^{5 note}

^{6 note}

^{7 note}And come to deadly use.

Gon.
No more; the text is foolish.

Alb.
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
Tygers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick^{8 note},
Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
^{9 note}

Gon.
Milk-liver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour from thy suffering; ^{1 note}that not know'st,
Fools do those villains pity, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cry'st,
Alack! why does he so?

Alb.
See thyself, devil!
^{2 note}Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid, as in woman.

Gon.
O vain fool!

Alb.
^{3 note}

Gon.
Marry, your manhood now!— Enter Messenger.

Alb.
What news?

Mes.
O, my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's dead;

Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Gloster.

Alb.
Gloster's eyes!

Mes.
A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword
To his great master; who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead:
But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath pluck'd him after.

Alb.
This shews you are above,
You justicers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can venge!—But, O poor Gloster!
Lost he his other eye?

Mes.
Both, both, my lord.—
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
'Tis from your sister.

Gon. [Aside.]
^{4 note}One way I like this well;
But being widow, and my Gloster with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life: Another way,
The news is not so tart.—I'll read, and answer. [Exit.

Alb.
Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?

Mes.
Come with my lady hither.

Alb.
He is not here.

Mes.
No, my good lord; I met him back again.

Alb.
Knows he the wickedness?

Mes.
Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.

Alb.
Gloster, I live
To thank thee for the love thou shew'dst the king,

And to revenge thine eyes.—Come hither, friend;
Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt. 5 ^note

[ The French camp, near Dover. Enter Kent, and ^{6 note}a Gentleman.

Kent.
Why the king of France is so suddenly gone back
Know you the reason?

Gent.
Something he left imperfect in the state,
Which since his coming forth is thought of; which
Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his personal return was most requir'd and necessary.

Kent.
Who hath he left behind him general?

Gent.
The mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer.

Kent.
Did your letters pierce the queen
To any demonstration of grief?

Gent.
Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a queen
Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.

Kent.
O, then it mov'd her.

Gent.
Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove

Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once: ^{7 note}

As pearls from diamonds dropt^{9 note}

Kent.
^{1 note}

Gent.
Yes; once, or twice, she heav'd the name of father
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart;
Cry'd, Sisters! sisters!—Shame of ladies! sisters!
Kent! father! sisters! What? i' the storm? i' the night?
^{2 note}
Let pity not be believed!—There she shook
The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
^{3 note}

Kent.
It is the stars,
The stars above us, govern our conditions;
Else ^{4 note}one self mate and mate could not beget
Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?

Gent.
No.

Kent.
Was this before the king return'd?

Gent.
No, since.

Kent.
Well, sir; The poor distressed Lear is i' the town:
Who sometimes, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about, and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter.

Gent.
Why, good sir?

Kent.
A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,
That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters,—^{5 note}
these things sting
His mind so venomously, that burning shame
Detains him from Cordelia.

Gent.
Alack, poor gentleman!

Kent.
Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not?

Gent.
^{6 note}'Tis so; they are afoot.

Kent.
Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him: some dear cause
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
Along with me.] [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A tent in the camp at Dover. Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers.

Cor.
Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud;
Crown'd with rank fumiter, and furrow weeds,
^{7 note}

Phy.
There is means, madam:
Our foster nurse of nature is repose,

The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many simples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.

Cor.
All blest secrets,
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears! be aidant, and remediate,
In the good man's distress!—Seek, seek for him;
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
That wants ^{9 note}the means to lead it. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
News, madam;
The British powers are marching hitherward.

Cor.
'Tis known before; our preparation stands
In expectation of them.—O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about;
Therefore great France
My mourning, and ^{1 note}

SCENE V. Regan's palace. Enter Regan, and Steward.

Reg.
But are my brother's powers set forth?

Stew.
Ay, madam.

Reg.
Himself in person there?

Stew.
Madam, with much ado:
Your sister is the better soldier.

Reg.
Lord Edmund spake not with ^{3 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 ignorance, Gloster'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
^{4 note}His nighted life; moreover, to descry
The strength o' the 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,

^{5 note}Let me unseal the letter.

Stew.
Madam, I had rather—

Reg.
I know, your lady does not love her husband;
I am sure of that: and, at her late being here,
^{6 note}

Stew.
I, madam?

Reg.
I speak in understanding; you are, I know it:
Therefore, ^{7 note}

i. e. This answer by word of mouth. The editors, not so regardful of consistency as they ought to have been, ran away with the thought that Regan delivered a letter to the steward; whereas she only desired him to give or deliver so much by word of mouth.

And by this means another blunder as egregious as the former, and arising out of it, presents itself to view in the same act, seene ix.

Observe, that here is but one letter produced and read, which is Goneril's. Had there been one of Regan's too, the audience no doubt should have heard it as well as Goneril's. But it is plain, from what is amended and explained above, that the Steward had no letter from Regan, but only a message to be delivered by word of mouth to Edmund earl of Gloster. So that it is not to be doubted, but the last passage should be read thus:

Thus the whole is connected, clear, and consistent. Gray.

My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;
And more convenient is he for my hand,
Than for your lady's:—^{8 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 her.
So, fare you well.
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 would shew
^{9 note}What party I do follow.

Reg.
Fare thee well. [Exeunt.

1 ^noteSCENE VI.

The country near Dover. Enter Gloster, and Edgar as a peasant.

Glo.
When shall we 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, ^{2 note}thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst.

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

Glo.
Methinks, you are better spoken.

Edg.
Come on, sir; here's the place:—stand still.—^{3 note}

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 fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to ^{4 note}

Glo.
Set me where you stand.

Edg.
Give me your hand: You are now within a foot
Of the extreme verge: ^{6 note}

Would I not leap upright.

Glo.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, is 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 ^{7 note}

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.
Gone, sir? farewell^{8 note}.
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, ^{9 note}
when life itself
Yields to the theft: Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past.—Alive, or dead?
Ho, you, sir! friend!—Hear you, sir?—speak!
^{1 note}Thus might he pass, indeed:—Yet he revives.
What are you, sir?

Glo.
Away, and let me die.

Edg.
^{2 note}


Hadst thou been aught but gossomer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou had'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;
Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.
^{3 note}

Thy life's a miracle: Speak yet again.

Glo.
But have I fallen, or no?

Edg.
From the dread summit of this ^{4 note}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.
This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o' the 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^{5 note};
It was some fiend: Therefore, thou happy father,
Think that ^{6 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.
^{7 note}Bear free and patient thoughts.—But who comes here? Enter Lear, fantastically drest up with flowers.
^{8 note}

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. ^{9 note}

like a crow-keeper: ^{1 note}

draw me a clothier's yard.— Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace;—this piece of toasted cheese will do't.—There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant.—Bring up the brown bills^{2 note}

Edg.

Sweet marjoram.

Lear.

Pass.

Glo.

I know that voice.

Lear.

^{5 note}Ha! Goneril!—with a white beard!— ^{6 note}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 every thing I said!—Ay and no too was no good divinity. ^{7 note}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 them, there I smelt them 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.
^{8 note}The trick of that voice I do well remember;
Is't not 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 lecher 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^{1 note}, pell-pell, for I lack soldiers.—
Behold yon' simpering dame,
^{2 note}

There is 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.

Glo.
O, let me kiss that hand!

Lear.
Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

Glo.
O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought.—Dost thou know me?

Lear.

I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me? 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.

Edg.
I would not take this from report;—it is,
And my heart breaks at it.

Lear.

Read.

Glo.

What, with the case of eyes^{7 note}

Lear.

O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light: 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 impertinency mixt!
Reason in madness!

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.
^{1 note}


Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
We wawle, and cry:—I will preach to thee; mark me.

Glo.
Alack, alack the day!

Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools;—^{2 note}

It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
A troop of horse with felt9Q1093: I'll put it in proof;
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law,
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. Enter a Gentleman, with attendants.

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^{2 note}
.—Use me well;
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon,
I am cut to the brains.

Gent.
You shall have any thing.

Lear.
No seconds? All myself?
Why, this would make a man, ^{3 note}

Gent.
Good sir,^{4 note}
—

Lear.
I will die bravely, like a bridegroom; what?
I will be jovial; come, come, I am a king,
My masters, know you that?

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

Lear.
^{5 note}Then there's life in it. Nay, come, an you get it,
You shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. [Exit.

Gent.
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch;
Past speaking of in a king!—Thou hast one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.

Edg.
Hail, gentle sir.

Gent.
Sir, speed you: What's your will?

Edg.
Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?

Gent.
Most sure, and vulgar: every one hears that,
Which can distinguish sound.

Edg.
But, by your favour,
How near's the other army?

Gent.
Near, and on speedy foot; ^{7 note}
the main descry
Stands on the hourly thought.

Edg.
I thank you, sir: that's all.

Gent.
Though that the queen on special cause is here,
Her army is mov'd on.

Edg.
I thank you, sir. [Exit Gent.

Glo.
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^{8 note}
;
^{9 note}
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 heaven
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.—Thou old unhappy traitor,

^{1 note}Briefly thyself remember:—The sword is out
That must destroy thee.

Glo.
Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to it. [Edgar opposes.

Stew.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
Lest that the 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, ^{2 note}go your gait, and let poor volk pass. And ch'ud 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, ^{3 note}che vor'ye, or ise try whether ^{4 note}
your costard or my bat^{5 note}

Stew.

Out, dunghill!

Edg.

Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: Come; ^{6 note}no matter vor your foyns.

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:—O, untimely death, 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 his pockets: these letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends.—He's dead; I am only sorry
He had no other death's-man.—Let us see:—
Leave, gentle wax, and, manners, blame us not:
^{7 note}

Let our reciprocal vows be remember'd. 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 conqueror: Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the loath'd warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant^{8 note},
Goneril.

^{9 note}O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!—
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
And the exchange, my brother!—Here, in the sands,
^{1 note}Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers: and, in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of ^{2 note}the death-practis'd duke: For him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell. [Exit Edgar, removing the body.

Glo.
The king is mad: How stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, ^{3 note}and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
So should my thought be ^{4 note}sever'd from my griefs;
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves. Re-enter Edgar.

Edg.
Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. A tent in the French camp. Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Physician.

Cor.
O thou good Kent, how shall I live, and work,
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And ^{4 note}every measure fail me.

Kent.
To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpay'd.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more, nor clipt, but so.

Cor.
^{5 note}Be better suited:
^{6 note}

Kent.
Pardon me, dear madam;
Yet to be known, ^{7 note}

Cor.
Then be it so, my good 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!
The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up
^{8 note}Of this child-changed father!

Phys.
So please your majesty,
That we may wake the king? he hath slept long.

Cor.
Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd? Lear is brought in in a chair.

Gent.
^{9 note}Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.

Phys.
Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor.
^{1 note}Very well.

Phys.
Please you, draw near.—Louder the music there!

Cor.
O my dear father! ^{2 note}

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 dear princess!

Cor.
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
*^{3 note}To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning? ^{4 note}

Though he had bit me, should 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
^{6 note}

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' the 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?—
^{7 note}I am 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 hands in benediction o'er me:—

^{8 note}No, sir, you must not kneel.

Lear.
Pray, do not mock me^{9 note}

:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward;
Not an hour more, nor less: and, to deal plainly,
^{1 note}

Cor.
And so I am, I am.

Lear.
Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, 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, ^{2 note}
is cur'd in him: [^{3 note}and yet it is danger
^{4 note}To make him even o'er the time he has 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, Cordelia, Physician, and Attendants.

[Gent.
^{5 note}Holds it true, sir,
That the duke of Cornwall was so slain?

Kent.
Most certain, sir.

Gent.
Who is conductor of his people?

Kent.
As it is said, the bastard son of Gloster.

Gent.
They say, Edgar,
His banish'd son, is with the earl of Kent
In Germany.

Kent.
Report is changeable.
'Tis time to look about; the powers o' the kingdom
Approach apace.

Gent.
The arbitrement is like to be bloody.
Fare you well, sir. [Exit.

Kent.
My point and period will be throughly wrought,
Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought.] Exit.

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