Cor.
All bless'd secrets;
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears—be aidant and remediate,
In the good man's distress—
Oh, you kind heavens,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature,
Th' untun'd and jarring senses, oh wind up,
Of this child-changed father.

Phy. (L.)
We have employ'd the utmost pow'r of art,
And this deep rest will perfect our design.

Cor.
O Regan! Goneril! Inhuman sisters?
Had he not been your father, these white hairs
Had challeng'd sure some pity! Was this a face
To be expos'd against the jarring winds?
My enemy's dog, though he had bit me, shou'd
Have stood that night against my fire.

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

Cor.
O, my dear father! Restoration, hang
Thy med'cine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy rev'rence made. He wakes;
Speak to him.

Phy.
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'th' grave. [Lear rises and Cordelia supports him to the front.

Cor.
Speak to me, sir; who am I?

Lear. (C.)
You are a soul in bliss; but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, which my 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!

Phy.
Madam he's scarce awake; he'll soon grow more compos'd.

Lear.
Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abus'd: I should even die with pity
To see another thus. I will not swear,
These are my hands.

Cor.
O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hand in blessing o'er me. [Attempts to kneel.]—Nay,
You must knot kneel.

Lear.
Pray, do not mock me;
I am a very foolish, fond, old man,
Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.

Cor.
Nay, then farewell to patience! Witness for me,
Ye mighty pow'rs, I ne'er complain'd 'till now!

Lear.
Methinks, I shou'd know you, and know this man.
Yet I am doubtful, for I'm mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have,
Remembers not these garments; nor do I know
Where I did sleep last night.—Pray do not mock me;
For, as I am a man, I think that lady
To be my child Cordelia.

Cor.
O, my dear, dear father!

Lear.
Be your tears wet? Yes, faith; pray, do not weep.
I know, I have giv'n thee cause, and am so humbled
With crosses since, that I could ask
Forgiveness of thee, were it possible
That thou couldst grant it;
If thou hast poison for me, I will drink it,
Bless thee, and die.

Cor. (C.)
O, pity, sir, a bleeding heart, and cease
This killing language.

Lear. (L.)
Tell me, friends, where am I?

Phy. (R.)
In your own kingdom, sir.

Lear.
Do not abuse me.

Phy.
Be comforted, good madam; for the violence
Of his distemper's past; we'll lead him in,

Nor trouble him, till he is better settled.
Will it please you, sir, walk into freer air?

Lear.
You must bear with me, I am old and foolish;
Forget and forgive. [The Physician leads off King Lear, followed by two Knights, L.

Cor.
The Gods restore you! [A distant March.
Hark, I hear afar
The beaten drum. Old Kent's a man of's word.
Oh! for an arm
Like the fierce thunderer's when the earth-born sons
Storm'd heav'n, to fight this injur'd father's battle!
That I cou'd shift my sex, and dye me deep
In his opposer's blood! But, as I may,
With women's weapons, piety and pray'rs,
I'll aid his cause.—You never-erring gods,
Fight on his side, and thunder on his foes
Such tempests, as his poor aged head sustain'd!
Your image suffers when a monarch bleeds;
'Tis your own cause; for that your succours bring;
Revenge yourselves, and right an injured king. Exit, L.

Next section