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

Edg.
You do climb up it now. Mark 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, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
In better phrase and matter than thou didst.

Edg.
You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments.

Glo.
Sure, you're better spoken.

Edg.
Come on, sir, here's the place—stand still. How fearful
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 yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock! a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

Glo.
Set me, where you stand.

Edg.
Give me your hand: you're now within a foot
Of th' extream verge: for all below the moon
Would I not now leap forward.

Glo.
Let go my hand:
Here, friend, 's another purse, in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking. May the 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.
I trifle thus with his despair to cure 't.

Glo.
O you mighty Gods!
This world do I 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 latter part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O bless him! Enter Lear, drest madly with flowers.

Lear.

No, they cannot touch me for coyning: I am the King himself.

Glo.

Ha! who comes here?

Edg.

O thou side-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. Look, look, a mouse! peace, peace;—there's my gauntlet, I'll prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown barb! i'th' clour, i'th' clout: hewgh!—give the word.

Edg.

Sweet marjoram.

Lear.

Pass!

Glo.

I know that voice.

Lear.

Ha! Gonerill! hah! Regan! 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 everything that I said.—Ay, and no too, was no good divinity. 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 'em, there I smelt 'em 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.
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?
Adultry? thou shalt not die; die for adultry? no.
To't, luxury, pell mell; for I lack soldiers.

Glo.
Not all my sorrows past so deep have touch'd me
As these sad accents. Sight were now a torment.

Lear.

Behold yon simpering dame, whose face presages snow; that minces virtue, and does shake the head to hear of pleasure's name. The fitchew, nor the pampered steed goes to it with a more riotous appetite; down from the waist they are centaurs, tho' women all above: but to the girdle do the gods inherit, beneath is all the fiends. There's hell, there's darkness, there's the sulphurous pit; fie, fie, fie; pah, pah; 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!

Lear.

Arraign her first! 'tis Gonerill. I here take my oath before this honourable assembly, she struck the poor king her father.

Glo.

Patience, good sir!

Lear.
And here's another, whose warpt looks proclaim
What store her heart is made of.—Stop her there!
Arms, arms, sword, fire!—Corruption in the place!

False justicer, why hast thou let her scape?

Glo.
O pity, sir! where is the firmness now
That you so oft have boasted.—Do you know me?

Lear.

I do remember thine eyes well enough! 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 this case of eyes?

Lear.

Oh, oh, 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 thine ears: see, how yond justice rails upon yond 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 beggar run from the cur? there thou might'st behold the great image of authority; a dog's obey'd in office.—

Now, now, now, now. Pull off my boots: harder, harder, so.

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 Glo'ster;
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
We wawle and cry. I will preach to thee: mark—

Glo.
Alack, alack the day!

Lear.
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools.— 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. Use me well,
You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons,
I am cut to th' brain.

Gent.
You shall have any thing.

Lear.
No seconds? all myself? I will die bravely,
Like a smug 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.
Then there's life in't.

It were an excellent stratagem to shoe a troop of horse with self: 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.

Glo.
The king is mad. How stiff is my vile sense
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge sorrows. Better I were distract,
And woe, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of itself.—Ye gentle gods,
Take my breath from me! let not misery
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,
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! Enter Steward.

Stew.
A proclaim'd prize! most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh,
To raise my fortunes. Old, unhappy traitor,
The sword is out, that must destroy thee.

Glo.
Let thy friendly hand put strength enough to't.

Stew.
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.

Stew.
Let go, slave, or thou dy'st.

Edg.

Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pass: and 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vort-night. Nay, come not near th' old man: keep out, or i'se try whether your costard or my bat be the harder.

Stew.
Out, dunghill! [Edgar knocks him down.
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 badness would desire.

Glo.
What, is he dead?

Edg.
Sit you down, sir.
This is a letter-carrier, and may have
Some papers of intelligence—what's here?

“To Edmund, Earl of Glo'ster.

“Let our reciprocal vows be remembred. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if he return the conqueror, then am I the prisoner,

and his bed my goal; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

“Your (wife, so I would say)
affectionate Servant,
GONERILL.

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