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.

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