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.

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