Come o'er the boorne note, Bessy, to me:
[singing.
Foo.
Her boat hath a leak,
and she must not speak
why she dares not come over to thee.
Edg.
The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of
a nightingale. Hop-dance cries in Tom's belly for two white
-- 70 --
herring. Croak not, black angel; I have no food for thee.
Ken.
How do you, sir? Stand you not so amaz'd:
Will you lye down and rest upon the cushions?
Lea.
I'll see their trial first;—Bring in the evidence.—
Thou robed man of justice, [to Edg.] take thy place;—
And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity,
[to the Fool.
Bench by his side:—you are of the commission,
[to Kent.
Sit you too.
Edg.
Let us deal justly.
[sings.
Sleepest, or wakest thou, jolly shephérd?
thy sheep be in the corn;
and for one blast of thy minikin mouth,
thy sheep shall take no harm.
Pur! the cat is grey.
Lea.
Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my
oath before this honourable assembly, she note kick'd the
poor king her father.
Foo.
Come hither, mistress; Is your name Goneril?
Lea.
She cannot deny it.
Foo.
Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint note-stool.
Lea.
And here's another, whose warpt looks proclaim
What store her heart is made on:—Stop her there!
Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place!—
False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape?
Edg.
Bless thy five wits!
Ken.
O pity!—Sir, where is the patience now,
That you so oft have boasted to retain?
&clquo;Edg.
&clquo;My tears begin to take his part so much,&crquo;
&clquo;They'll mar note my counterfeiting.&crquo;
Lea.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.
Edg.
Tom will throw his head at them:—Avaunt,
-- 71 --
you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite;
Mastiff, grey-hound, mungrel grim,
Hound, or spaniel, brach, or lym note,
Or bob-tail tight, or note trundle-tail;
Tom will make them weep note and wail:
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the note hatch, and all are fled.
Do, do, de, de, &c. note
[singing.
Come, march to wakes and fairs, and market-towns:—
&clquo;Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.&crquo;
Lea.
Then let them anatomize Regan, see what
breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in nature,
that makes note these hard hearts?—You, sir, [to Edg.] I
entertain you note for one of my hundred; only, I do not
like the fashion of your garments: note you will say, they
are Persian; note but let them be chang'd.
Ken.
Now, good my lord, lye here, and rest note a while.
[pointing to a mean Couch.
Lea.
Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains;
so, so, so: We'll go to supper in the morning: note
So, so, so.
Foo.
And I'll go to bed at noon. note
Re-enter Gloster.
Glo.
Come hither, friend; Where is the king my master?
Ken.
Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone.
Glo.
Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy arms;
I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him:
There is a litter ready; lay him in't note,
And drive toward note Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master:
-- 72 --
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss: note Take up, take up;
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct. note
Ken.
Oppress'd nature sleeps:— note14Q1358
This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses note,
Which, if convenience will not allow,
Stand in hard cure.—Come, help to bear thy master;
Thou [to the Fool.] must not stay behind.
Glo.
Come, come, away.
[Exeunt Kent, Gloster, and the Fool, bearing off Lear.
Edg.
When we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Who alone suffers, suffers note most i'the mind;
Leaving free things, and happy shows, behind:
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er-skip,
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
How light and portable my pain seems now,
When that, which makes me bend, makes the king bow;
He childed, as I father'd!—Tom, away:
Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray,
When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles note thee,
In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee.
What will hap more to-night?—Safe 'scape the king!—
Lurk, lurk.
[Exit.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
