Cor. (R.)
I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.
Regan, see here, a plot upon our state; [Gives her a Letter.
'Tis Gloster's character, who has betray'd
His double trust, of subject and of host.

Reg.
Then double be our vengeance; this confirms
Th' intelligence that we but now receiv'd,
That he has been this night to seek the king.
But who, sir, was the kind discoverer?

Corn.
Our eagle, quick to spy, and fierce to seize
Our trusty Edmund.

Reg.
'Twas a noble service;
O, Cornwall, take him to thy deepest trust,
And wear him as a jewel at thy heart.

Edm.
Think, sir, how hard a fortune I sustain,
That makes me thus repent of serving you.
Oh, that this treason had not been, or I
Not the discoverer!

Corn.
Edmund, thou shalt find
A father in our love, and from this minute
We call thee earl of Gloster; but there yet
Remains another justice to be done,
And that's to punish the discarded traitor;
But, lest thy tender nature should relent
At his just sufferings, nor brook the sight,
We wish thee to withdraw.

Corn. (C.)
Bring in the traitor. [Exit Edmund, R Enter Gloster, brought in by two Servants, L.
Bind fast his arms.

Glo. (L.)
What mean your graces?
You are my guests; pray, do me no foul play.

Corn.
Bind him, [They bind him.] I say, hard, harder yet.

Reg. (L. C.)
Now, traitor, thou shalt find— [Crosses up C.

Corn.
Speak, rebel, where hast thou sent the king?
Whom, spite of our decree, thou saved'st last night.

Glo.
I'm tied to th' stake, and I must stand the course.

Reg.
Say where, and why, thou hast conceal'd him, traitor. [Comes down to Gloster.

Glo.
Because I would not see thy cruel hands
Tear out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister
Carve his anointed flesh; but I shall see
The swift wing'd vengeance overtake such children.

Corn.
See't thou shalt never: slaves, perform your work; [The Servants take Gloster out, L.
Out with those treacherous eyes; dispatch, I say.

Glo. [Without, L.]
He that will think to live 'till he be old,
Give me some help.—O cruel! oh, ye gods!

Edw. (R. C.)
Hold, hold, my lord. I bar your cruelty;
I cannot love your safety, and give way
To such inhuman practice.

Corn.
Ah, my villian!

Edw.
I have been your servant from my infancy;
But better service have I never done you,
Than with this boldness.

Corn.
Take thy death, slave. [Stabs Edward, and puts up his dagger.

Edw.
Nay, then, revenge, whilst yet my blood is warm! [Draws his sword, runs Cornwall through the body, and is carried off by the Guard, R. Cornwall is supported by Servants.

Reg.
Help here—are you not hurt, my lord?

Glost. [Without, L.]
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature
To quit this horrid act.

Reg.
Out, treacherous villain,
Thou call'st on him that hates thee; it was he
That broach'd thy treason, shew'd us thy dispatches;
There—read, and save the Cambrian prince a labour. [Throws the letter out to him, L.

Glo. [Without, L.]
O my folly!
Then Edgar was abus'd; kind gods, forgive me that!

Reg. [To Corwall.]
How is't my lord?

Corn.
Turn out that eyeless villain, let him smell
His way to Cambray;
Regan, I bleed apace; give me your arm. [Exeunt Regan, L. Cornwall, supported by his Servants, R. SCENE II. —The Open Country. Enter Edgar, in disguise, R.

Edg.
The lowest and most abject thing of fortune
Stands still in hope, and is secure from fear.
The lamentable change is from the best,
The worst returns to better.—Who comes here? [Retires up.
My father poorly led! depriv'd of sight!
The precious stones torn from their bleeding rings!
World! world! world!

But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee.
Life would not yield to age. Enter Gloster, led by an Old Man, L.

Old M.
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 M.
You cannot see your way.

Glo.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw: O, dear son, Edgar!
The food of thy abused father's wrath,
Might I but live to see thee in my touch.
I'd say I had eyes again.

Edg. [Aside.]
Alas! he's sensible that I was wrong'd,
And, should I own myself, his tender heart
Would break betwixt the extremes of grief and joy.

Old M.
How now? who's there?

Edg. [Advances R. of Gloster.]
A charity for poor om.—Play fair, and defy the foul fiend.
O gods! and must I still pursue this trade.
Trifling beneath such loads of misery? [Aside.

Old M. (R. C.)
'Tis poor mad Tom.

Glo. (R. C.)
In the late storm I such a fellow saw
Which made me think a man a worm.
Where is the lunatic?

Old M.
Here, my lord.

Glo.
Get thee now away; if for my sake
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or two,
I'th' way to Dover, do't for ancient love,
And bring some cov'ring for this naked wretch,
Whom I'll intreat to lead me.

Old M.
Alack, my lord, he's mad.

Glo.
'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee.

Old M.
I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,
Come on't what will. [Exit, L.

Glo.
Sirrah! naked fellow!

Edg. (R.)
Poor Tom's a-cold.—I cannot fool it longer. [Aside.
And yet I must.—Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed;
Believe't, poor Tom e'en weeps his blind to see 'em.

Glo.
Know'st thou the way to Dover?

Edg.
Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path.
Poor Tom has been scared out of his good wits.
Bless every true man's son from the foul fiend!

Glo.
Here, take this purse; that I am wretched
Makes thee the happier. Heav'n deal so still!
Thus let the griping usurer's hoard be scatter'd,
So distribution shall 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 dreadfully down on the roaring deep;
Bring me but to the very brink of it,
And I'll repair the poverty thou bear'st
With something rich about me.—From that place
I shall no leading need.

Edg.
Give me thy arm; poor Tom shall guide thee.

Glo.
Soft! for I hear the tread of passengers. Enter Kent, in his own character, and Cordelia, L.

Cor. (L.)
Ah me! your fear's too true, it was the king,
I spoke but even now with some that met him,
As mad as the vex'd sea, singing aloud;
Crown'd with rank fumiter, and furrow weeds,
With berries, burdocks, violets, daisies, poppies,
And all the idle flowers that grow
In our sustaining corn: conduct me to him,
To prove my last endeavours to restore him,
And heav'n so prosper thee!

Kent. (C.)
I will, good lady.
Ha! Gloster here!—Turn, poor dark man, and hear
A friend's condolement, who, at sight of thine,
Forgets his own distress; thy old true Kent.

Glo.
How! Kent? From whence return'd?

Kent.
I have not, since my banishment, been absent,
But in disguise follow'd th' abandon'd king.
'Twas me thou saw'st with him in the late storm.

Glo.
Let me embrace thee; had I eyes, I now
Should weep for joy; but let this trickling blood
Suffice instead of tears.

Cor. (L. C. Seeing Gloster.)
O, misery!
To whom shall I complain, or in what language?
Forgive, O wretched man, the piety
That brought thee to this pass; 'twas I that caus'd it;

I cast me at thy feet, and beg of thee [Kneels.
To crush these weeping eyes to equal darkness,
If that will give thee any recompense.

Edg. [Aside.]
Was ever season so distrest as this?

Glo.
I think, Cordelia's voice; rise, pious princess,
And take a dark man's blessing. [Cordelia rises.—Kent and Gloster retire up and confer.

Cor.
O, my Edgar!
My virtue's now grown guilty, works the bane
Of those that do befriend me: heaven forsakes me;
And, when you look that way, it is but just
That you should hate me too.

Edg.
O, wave this cutting speech, and spare to wound
A heart that's on the rack. [Retire up; Gloster and Kent come down L.

Glo. (L.)
No longer cloud thee, Kent, in that disguise;
There's business for thee, and of noblest weight;
Our injur'd country is at length in arms,
Urg'd by the king's inhuman wrongs and mine,
And only want a chief to lead them on;
That task be thine.

Edg. [Aside.]
Brave Britons! then there's life in't yet. [Comes down L.

Kent. (R. C.)
Then have we one cast for our fortune still.
Come, princess, I'll bestow you with the king,
Then on the spur to head these forces.
Farewell, good Gloster; to our conduct trust.

Glo.
And be your cause as prosp'rous, as 'tis just. [Exeunt Kent and Cordelia, R. Edgar and Gloster, L. SCENE III. —Albany's Palace. Enter Goneril, with a letter, and Oswald, L.

Gon. (L. C.)
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 to his misery, to dispatch him.

Osw. (L.)
No, madam, he's return'd on speedy summons
Back to your sister.

Gon.
Ah! I like not that;
Such speed must have the wings of love. Where's Albany?

Osw.
Madam, within; but never man so chang'd;
I told him of the uproar of the peasants,

He smil'd at it; when I inform'd him
Of Gloster's treason—

Gon.
Trouble him no further;
It is his coward spirit. Back to our sister.
Hasten her musters on, and let her know,
I have given the distaff into my husband's hands;
That done, with special care deliver these dispatches
In private, to young Gloster. Enter Captain of the Guard, R.

Cap. (R.)
O, madam, most unseasonable news!
The Duke of Cornwall's dead of his late wound,
Whose loss your sister has in part supply'd,
Making brave Edmund general of her forces.

Gon.
One way, I like this well;
But, being a widow, and my Gloster with her,
'T may blast the promis'd harvest of our love. [Aside.
A word more, sir: [To Oswald] add speed to your journey;
And if you chance to meet with that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. [Exeunt Goneril and Captain, R. Oswald, L. SCENE IV. —Another part of the Country. Enter Gloster, and Edgar, as a Peasant, L. U. E.

Glo.
When shall we come to'th' top of that same hill?

Edg.
We climb it now; mark, how we labour.

Glo.
Methinks, the ground is even.

Edg.
Horribly 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, 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 alter'd,
But my garments.

Glo.
Methinks, you're better spoken.

Edg.
Come on, sir; [Crosses to R.] here's the place. How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Shew scarce so big as beetles; half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!

The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yon tall anch'ring bark
Seems lessen'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy,
Almost too small for sight; the murm'ring surge
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more;
Lest my brain turn, and the disorder make me
Tumble down headlong.

Glo.
Set me where you stand.

Edg. [Puts him across to R.]
You are now within a foot of th' extreme verge:
For all beneath the moon I would not now
Leap forward.

Glo. (R.)
Let go my hand.
Here is another purse, in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking. Get thee farther,
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

Edg.
Fare you well, sir. [Retires a little, R.] That I do trifle thus
With his despair, is with design to cure it. [Aside.

Glo. [Kneels.]
Thus, mighty gods, this world I do renounce,
And in your sight shake my afflictions off;
If I could bear them longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and feebler part of nature shou'd
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, oh, bless him!
Now, fellow, fare thee well. [Prepares to fall, when Edgar advances, and catches him.

Edg.
Hold—who comes here? Enter King Lear, with a Coronet of Flowers on his head, and a straw in his hand, L. U. E.

Lear.
No, no; they cannot touch me for coining;
I am the king himself.

Edg.
O, piercing sight!

Lear.

Nature's above art in that respect. There's your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper; —draw me a clothier's yard. A mouse, a mouse! Peace, hoa! There's my gauntlet: I'll prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills; well flown, barb; I'th' white; i'th white;—Hewgh! give the word.

Edg.

Sweet Majoram.

Lear.

Pass.

Glo.

I know that voice.

Lear.

Ha, Goneril! With a white bear! They flatter'd me like a dog, and told me I had white hairs on my chin, before the black ones were there. (R.) To say ay and no to every thing that I said. Ay, and no too, was no good divinity. When the rain came once to wet me, and the winds to make me chatter, when the thunder wou'd not peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt them out. Go to, they are not men of their words; they told me I was every thing; 'tis a lie;

Glo.
That voice I 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
Engenders in my sight. (R.) Let copulation thrive!
For Gloster's bastard son was kinder to his father,
Than were my daughters, got i'th' lawful bed.
To't, luxury, pell mell: for I lack soldiers.
There's money for thee.

Glo. (R. C.)
Let me kiss that hand.

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

Glo.
Speak, sir, do you know me?

Lear.

I remember thine eyes well enough. Nay, do thy worst, blind Cupid, I'll not love.—Read me this challenge; mark but the penning of it.

Glo.

Were all the letters suns, I could not see.

Lear.

Read, read, read.

Glo.

What, with this case of eyes!

Lear.

O ho! are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? 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 thy ears: see how yon justice rails on yon simple thief. Hark in thine ear; shake em together, and the first that drops, be it thief or justice, is a villian.— Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar!

Glo.

Ay, sir.

Lear. (C.)

And the man run from the cur; there thou might'st behold the great image of authority; a dog's obey'd in office. Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! Why

dost thou lash that strumpet? Thou hotly lust'st to enjoy her in that kind for which thou whip'st her; do, do! the judge that sentenc'd her has been beforehand with thee.

Glo.
How stiff is my vile sense that yields not yet!

Lear.
I tell thee, the usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and fur gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.—
Why there 'tis for thee, friend; make much of it;

It has the power to seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes, and, like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not. Pull, pull, off my boots; hard, harder; so, so.

Glo.
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;
Thou know'st, the first time that we taste the air,
We wail and cry. I'll preach to thee; mark me.

Edg.
Break, lab'ring heart!

Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools. Enter a Physician and two Knights, R. U. E.

Phy. (R.)
O! here he is; lay hand upon him—sir
Your dearest daughter sends—

Lear.

No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even the natural fool of fortune. Use me well, you shall have ransom.—Let me have surgeons. Oh! I am cut to the brains.

Phy.
You shall have any thing.

Lear.
No seconds? All myself?
I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What!
I will be jovial; come, come; I am a king,
My masters, know you that? [Crosses to R.

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

Lear.

It were an excellent stratagem to shoe a troop of horse with felt; I'll put it in proof.—No noise, no noise.—Now will we steal upon these sons-in-law, and then—Kill, kill, kill, kill?

Edg.
A sight most moving in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking in a king.

Glo. (R.)
Now, good sir, what are you?

Edg. (C.)
A most poor man, made tame to fortune's strokes,

And prone to pity by experienc'd sorrows.
Give me your hand.

Glos.
You, gentle gods, take my breath from me,
And let not my ill-genius tempt me more
To die before you please. Enter Oswald, L.

Osw. (L.)
A proclaim'd prize! O, most happily met!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old, unhappy, traitor,
The sword is out that must destroy thee. [Draws his sword.

Glo.
Now let thy friendly hand put strength enough to't. [Edgar raises his staff.

Osw.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence,
Lest I destroy thee too; let go his arm.

Edg.

Chill not let go, zir, without 'vurther 'casion.

Osw. (L. C.)

Let go, slave; or thou diest.

Edg. (L. C.)

Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pass; and chu'd ha' bin' 'zwagger'd out of my life, it would not have been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight.—Nay, an' thou com'st near th' old man, I'st try whether your costard or my ballow be th' harder.

Osw.

Out, dunghill!

Edg.

Chill pick your teeth, zir: come, no matter vor your foines.

Osw.
Slave, thou hast slain me; oh! untimely death! [Dies.

Edg.
I know thee well, a serviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As lust could wish.

Glo. (C.)
What? Is he dead?

Edg.
This is a letter-carrier, and may have
Some papers of intelligence, that may stand
Our party in good stead to know.—What's here? [Takes a letter out of his pocket, and reads it.
“To Edmund Earl of Gloster. [Reads.]

—“Let our mutual loves be remember'd: you have many opportunities to cut Albany off. If he return the conqueror, then I am still a prisoner, and his bed my jail: from the loath'd warmth of which deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

“Goneril.”

In time and place convenient I'll produce
This letter to the sight of th' injur'd duke [Music L.
As best shall serve our purpose.
Come, your hand;
Far off, methinks I hear the beaten drum;
Come, sir, I will bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt, L. END OF ACT IV.

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