Cordelia.
O ye kind gods!
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
Th'untun'd and jarring senses, Oh, wind up
Of this child-changed father!

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

Cor.
O my dear father! restauration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!

Phys.
Kind and dearest princess!

Cor.
O Regan! Gonerill, inhuman sisters!
Had he not been your father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of you. Was this a face
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning?—My very enemy's dog,
Tho' he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire: and wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits, at once,
Had not concluded all.—He wakes; speak to him.

Phys.
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.
Ha! is this too a world of cruelty!
I know my privilege; think not that I will
Be treated like a wretched mortal! No.
No more of that!

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

Lear.
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine 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—

Phys.
He's scarce awake; he'll soon grow more compos'd.

Lear.
Where have I been? where am I? fair day-light?
I'm mightily abus'd; I should even die with pity,
To see another thus. I know not what to say;
I will not swear these are my hands:
Would I were assur'd of my condition!

Cor.
O look upon me, sir,
And hold your hand in benediction o'er me.
Nay, Sir, you must not 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.
Ah then farewel to patience! witness for me,
Ye mighty pow'rs, I ne'er complain'd till now!

Lear.
Methinks, I should 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; nay, I know not
Where I did sleep last night. Do not laugh at me,

For, as I am a man, I think, this 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 cou'd ask
Forgiveness of thee, were it possible
That thou cou'dst grant it;
If thou hast poison for me I will drink it,
Bless thee, and die.

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

Lear.
Tell me, Friends, where am I?

Phys.
In your own kingdom, sir.

Lear.
Do not abuse me.

Phys.
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.
Wil't please you, sir, walk into freer air?

Lear.

You must bear with me; pray you now, forget and forgive! I am old and foolish.

Cor.
The gods restore you!—hark I hear afar
The beaten Drum. 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 ag'd head sustain'd:
Your Image suffers when a monarch bleeds:
'Tis your own cause; for that your succours bring;
Revenge yourselves, and right an injur'd king! [Exit.

Bastard in his Tent.

Bast.
To both these sisters have I sworn my love,
Each jealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the adder;—neither can be held,
If both remain alive.—Where shall I fix?
Cornwall is dead, and Regan's empty bed
Seems cast by fortune for me—But bright Gonerill,
Brings yet untasted beauty; I will use
Her husband's count'nance for the battle, then
Usurp at once his bed and throne. [Enter Officers.
My trusty scouts, you're well return'd; have ye descry'd
The strength and posture of the enemy?

Off.
We have, and were surpris'd to find
The banish'd Kent return'd, and at their head;
Your brother Edgar on the rear; old Glo'ster
(A moving spectacle) led through the ranks,
Whose pow'rful tongue, and more prevailing wrongs,
Have so enrag'd their rustic spirit, that with
Th' approaching dawn we must expect a battle.

Bast.
You bring a welcome hearing. Each to his charge;
Line well your ranks, and stand on your award.
To night repose you; and i'th' morn we'll give
The sun a sight that shall be worth his rising. [Exeunt.

Next section