SCENE I.
SCENE A Heath.
A storm is heard with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, severally.
Kent.
Who's there besides foul weather?
Gent.
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
Kent.
I know you: where's the King?
Gent.
Contending with the fretful elements;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change or cease: tears his white hair,† note
Which the impetuous blasts with eyeless rage
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of.
This night, in which the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their furr dry; unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will, take all.
Kent.
But who is with him?
Gent.
None but the fool, who labours to out-jest
His heart-struck injuries.
Kent.
Sir, I do know you,
And dare upon the warrant of my note
-- 54 --
Commend a dear thing to you. There's division
(Although as yet the face of it is cover'd
With mutual craft) 'twixt Albany and Cornwal:*
note
But true it is from France there comes a pow'r
Into this scatter'd kingdom, who already
Wise in our negligence, have secret sea
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open banner—Now to you,
If on my credit you dare build so far
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and madding sorrow
The King hath cause to plain.
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from some knowledge and assurance of you,
Offer this office.
Gent.
I'll talk further with you.
Kent.
No, do not:
† noteFor confirmation that I am much more
Than my out-wall, open this purse and take
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia;
-- 55 --
(As fear not but you shall) shew her that Ring,
And she will tell you who this fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the King.
Gent.
Give me your hand, have you no more to say?
Kent.
Few words, but to effect more than all yet;
That, when we have found the King, (in which you take
That way, I this:) he that first lights on him,
Hollow the other.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool.
Lear.
Blow winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow!
You cataracts, and hurricanoes spout
'Till you have drencht our steeples, drown'd the cocks.
You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
‡ noteVaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head. And thou all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o'th' world,
Crack nature's mould, all † note germains spill at once
That make ingrateful man.
Fool.
O nuncle, court-holy-water in a dry house, is better
than the rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in, ask thy daughter's
blessing; here's a night that pities neither wise men nor fools.
Lear.
Rumble thy belly full, spit fire, spout rain;
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters;
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness,
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no a notesubmission. Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure;—here I stand your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man!
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
-- 56 --
Your high-engender'd battels, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O, ho! 'tis foul.
Fool.
He that has a house to put's head in, has a good head-piece:
The codpiece that will house, before the head has any:
The head and he shall lowse; so beggars marry many.
That man that makes his toe, what he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe, and turn his sleep to wake.
For there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths in
a glass.
SCENE III.
To them, Enter Kent.
Lear.
No, I will be the pattern of all patience,
I will say nothing.
Kent.
Who's there?
Fool.
Marry here's grace, and a codpiece, that's a wise man
and a fool.
Kent.
Alas Sir, are you here? things that love night,
Love not such nights as these: the wrathful skies
† noteGallow the very wand'rers of the dark,
And make them keep their caves: since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry
Th' affliction, nor the force.
Lear.
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful thund'ring o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes
Unwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand;
-- 57 --
b note
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue,
That art incestuous: caitiff, shake to pieces
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practis'd on man's life. Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and ask
These dreadful summoners grace.—I am a man,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Kent.
Alack, bare-headed?
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel,
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest:
Repose you there, while I to this hard house
(More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) return, and force
Their scanted courtesie.
Lear.
My wits begin to turn.
Come on my boy. How dost my boy? art cold?
I'm cold my self. Where is this straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel;
Poor fool and knave, I've one thing in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee.
Fool.
He that has and a little tynie wit,
With heigh ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day.
Lear.
True my good boy: come bring us to this hovel.
[Ex.
† noteFool.
'Tis a brave night to cool a curtezan.
I'll speak a prophecy or ere I go;
-- 58 --
When priests are more in words than matter,
When brewers marr their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors tutors;
No hereticks burn'd, but wenches suitors;
When every case in law is right,
No Squire in debt, nor no poor Knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues,
And cut-purses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i'th' field,
And bawds and whores do churches build:
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion,
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going shall be us'd with feet,
This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I do live before his time.
[Ex.
SCENE IV.
An apartment in Glo'ster's castle.
Enter Glo'ster and Bastard.
Glo.
Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural
dealing; when I desired their leave that I might pity
him, they took from me the use of mine own house, charg'd
me on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him,
entreat for him, or any way sustain him.
Bast.
Most savage and unnatural!
Glo.
Go to; say you nothing. There is division between
the Dukes, and a worse matter than that: I have received a letter
this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken, I have lock'd the
letter in my closet: these injuries the King now bears will be revenged
home; there is part of a power already, c notelanded; we must
incline to the King, I will look for him, and privily relieve him;
-- 59 --
go you and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not
of him perceiv'd; if he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed;
if I die for it, as no less is threatned me, the King my old master
must be relieved. There are strange things toward, Edmund,
pray you be careful.
[Exit.
Bast.
This courtesie forbid thee shall the Duke
Instantly know, and of that letter too.
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses; no less than all.
The younger rises, when the old doth fall.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Part of the Heath with a hovel.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Kent.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter;
The tyranny of open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Let me alone.
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Wilt break my heart?
Kent.
I'd rather break mine own; good my lord enter.
Lear.
Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear,
But if thy flight light toward the roaring sea
Thou'dst meet the bear i'th' mouth; when the mind's free,
The body's delicate; the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not, as this mouth should tear this hand
-- 60 --
For lifting food to't?—But I'll punish home;
No, I will weep no more—in such a night,
To shut me out?—pour on, I will endure:
In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill,
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all—
O that way madness lyes, let me shun that,
No more of that.
Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear.
Pr'ythee go in thy self, seek thine own ease,
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more—but I'll go in,
In boy, go first. You houseless poverty—
Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep—
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm!
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these?—O I have ta'en
Too little care of this! take physick, pomp,
Expose thy self to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And shew the heav'ns more just.
SCENE VI.
Enter Edgar, disguis'd like a madman, and Fool.
Edg.
Fathom and half, fathom and half! poor Tom.
Fool.
Come not in here nuncle, here's a spirit, help me,
help me.
Kent.
Give me thy hand, who's there?
Fool.
A spirit, a spirit, he says his name's poor Tom.
Kent.
What art thou that do'st grumble there i'th' straw?
come forth.
-- 61 --
Edg.
Away, the foul fiend follows me. Through the sharp
hawthorn blows the cold wind. Humph, go to thy bed and
warm thee.
Lear.
Didst thou give all to thy daughters? and art thou come
to this?
Edg.
Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul
fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through d noteford
and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire, that hath laid knives
under his pillow, and halters in his pue; set ratsbane by his
porredge, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting
horse, over four e noteinch'd bridges, to course his own shadow for
a traitor,—bless thy five wits, Tom's a-cold. O do, de, do, de, do,
de, bless thee from whirl-winds, star-blasting, and taking, do
poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could
I have him now, and there, and here again, and there.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Have his daughters brought him to this pass?
Could'st thou save nothing? didst thou give 'em all?
Fool.
Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all shamed.
Lear.
Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters!
Kent.
He hath no daughters, Sir.
Lear.
Death, traitor, nothing could have subdu'd nature
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.
Edg.
Pillicock sat on pillicock-hill, alow, alow, loo, loo.
Fool.
This cold night will turn us all to fools, and mad-men.
Edg.
Take heed o'th' foul fiend, obey thy parents, keep thy
word justly, swear not, commit not with man's sworn spouse;
set not thy sweet-heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold.
-- 62 --
Lear.
What hast thou been?
Edg.
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd
my hair, wore gloves in my cap, serv'd the lust of my mistress's
heart, and did the act of darkness with her: swore as many
oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of
heav'n. One that slept in the contriving lust, and wak'd to do
it. Wine lov'd I f notedeeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramour'd
the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloodyg note of hand;
hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness,
lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the
rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy
foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from
lender's books, and defie the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn
blows the cold wind: says suum, mun, nonny, dolphin
my boy, boy, Sessey: let him trot by.
[Storm still.
Lear.
Thou wert better in a grave, than to answer with thy
uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more
than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk,
the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha!
here's three of us are sophisticated. Thou art the thing it self;
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked
animal as thou art. Off, off you lendings: come, unbutton
here.
[Tearing off his cloaths.
Fool.
Pr'ythee nuncle be contented; 'tis a naughty night to
swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field, were like an old letcher's
heart, a small spark, and all the rest on's body cold; look,
here comes a walking fire.
Edg.
This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he begins at curfew,
and walks 'till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin,
squints the eye, and makes the hair-lip; mildews the white wheat,
and hurts the poor creature of the earth.
Swithold footed thrice the old;
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold,
-- 63 --
Bid her alight, and her troth plight,
And aroynt thee witch, aroynt thee.
Kent.
How fares your grace?
SCENE VII.
Enter Glo'ster with a torch.
Lear.
What's he?
Kent.
Who's there? what is't you seek?
Glo.
What are you there? your names?
Edg.
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the
tod-pole; the wall-newt, and the water-newt; that in the fury
of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets;
swallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the green
mantle of the standing pool; who is whipt from tything to tything,
and stock-punish'd, and imprison'd: who hath three suits
to his back, six shirts to his body;
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear;
But mice, and rats, and such small deer
Have been Tom's food for seven long year;
Beware my follower. Peace smulkin, peace thou fiend.
Glo.
What, hath your grace no better company?
Edg.
The Prince of darkness is a gentleman, Modo he's call'd,
and Mahu.
Glo.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile,
That it doth hate what gets it.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
T' obey in all your daughters hard commands:
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
-- 64 --
Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
Lear.
First let me talk with this philosopher;
What is the cause of thunder?
Kent.
My good lord, take his offer,
Go into th' house.
Lear.
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban:
What is your study?
Edg.
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear.
Let us ask you one word in private.
Kent.
Importune him to go, my lord,
His wits begin t' unsettle.
Glo.
Can'st thou blame him?
[Storm still.
His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent!
He said it would be thus; poor banish'd man.
Thou say'st the King grows mad; I'll tell thee friend,
I'm almost mad my self; I had a son,
Now out-law'd from my blood, he sought my life
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,
No father his son dearer: true to tell thee,
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this?
I do beseech your grace.
Lear.
O cry you mercy, Sir:
Noble philosopher, your company.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
In, fellow, into th' hovel; keep thee warm.
Lear.
Come, let's in all.
Kent.
This way, my lord.
Lear.
With him;
I will keep still with my philosopher.
Kent.
Good, my lord, sooth him; let him take the fellow.
Glo.
Take him you on.
Kent.
Sirrah, come on; along with us.
-- 65 --
Lear.
Come, good Athenian.
Glo.
No words, no words, hush.
Edg.
Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still, fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Glo'ster's Castle.
Enter Cornwall and Bastard.
Corn.
I will have revenge, ere I depart his house.
Bast.
How, my lord! I may be censur'd, that nature
thus gives way to loyalty; something fears me to think of.
Corn.
I now perceive, it was not altogether your brother's
evil disposition made him seek his death: but a provoking merit
set a-work by a reprovable badness in himself.
Bast.
How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be
just? this is the letter which he spoke of; which approves him
an intelligent party to the advantages of France. Oh heav'ns!
that this treason were not; or not I the detector.
Corn.
Go with me to the dutchess.
Bast.
If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty
business in hand.
Corn.
True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloster: seek
out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension.
Bast.
If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff his suspicion
more fully. I will persevere in my course of loyalty,
though the conflict be sore between that and my blood.
Corn.
I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a dearer
father in my love.
[Exeunt.
-- 66 --
SCENE IX.
A Chamber.
Enter Kent and Glo'ster.
Glo.
Here is better than the open air, take it thankfully:
I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can;
I will not be long from you.
[Exit.
Kent.
All the pow'r of his wits has given way to his impatience:
the gods reward your kindness.
Enter Lear, Edgar, and Fool.
Edg.
Fraterreto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler in
the lake of darkness: pray innocent, and beware the foul fiend.
Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a madman be a gentleman,
or a yeoman?
Lear.
A King, a King.
Fool.
No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son:
for he's a yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him.
Lear.
To have a thousand with red burning spits
Come hizzing in upon 'em.* note
Edg.
The foul fiend bites my back.
Fool.
He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, the health
of a horse, the love of a boy, or the oath of a whore.
Lear.
It shall be done, I will arraign 'em strait.
Come sit thou here, most learned justice,
Thou sapient Sir, sit here—now ye she foxes.
Edg.
The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale.
Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herrings.
Croak not black angel, I have no food for thee.
-- 67 --
Lear.
I'll see their tryal, bring me in the evidence.
Thou robed man of justice take thy place,
And thou his yoke-fellow of equity
Bench by his side. You are o'th' commission, sit you too.
Arraign her first, 'tis Gonerill.
Fool.
Come hither Mistress, is your name Gonerill?
Lear.
She cannot deny it.
Fool.
Cry you mercy, I took you for a Joint-stool
Lear.
Arms, arms, sword, fire, corruption in the place!
False justicer, why hast thou let her scape?
Edg.
Bless thy five wits.
Kent.
O pity! Sir, where is the patience now,
That you so oft have boasted to retain?
Edg.
My tears begin to take his part so much
They mar my counterfeiting.
[Aside.
Lear.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart; see, they bark at me—
Edg.
Tom will throw his head at them; avaunt, you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite;
Mastiff, grey-hound, mungril grim,
Hound or spaniel, † notebrache, or hym;
† noteOr bobtail tike, or trundle tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail,
For with throwing thus my head;
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do, de, de, de: Sessey, come, march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns; poor Tom thy horn is dry.
[Exit.
Lear.
Then let them anatomize Regan—see what breeds
about her heart—Is there any cause in nature that makes these
hard hearts? You Sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only
I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will say they
are Persian; but let them be chang'd.
-- 68 --
Re-Enter Glo'ster.
Kent.
Now, good my lord, lye here, and rest a while.
Lear.
Make no noise, make no noise, draw the curtains:
So, so, we'll go to supper i'th' morning.
Fool.
And I'll go to bed at noon.
Glo.
Come hither, friend, where is the King, my master?
Kent.
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,
And drive tow'rd Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct. Come, away away.
[Exeunt.
SCENE X.
Glo'ster's Castle.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Bastard, and Servants.
Corn.
Post speedily to my lord your husband, shew him
this letter, the army of France is landed; seek out the
traitor Glo'ster.
Reg.
Hang him instantly.
Gon.
Pluck out his eyes.
Corn.
Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our
sister company; the revenges we are bound to take upon your
traiterous father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke
where you are going, to a most festinate preparation; we are
-- 69 --
bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt
us. Farewel dear sister, farewel my lord of Glo'ster.
Enter Steward.
How now? where's the King?
Stew.
My lord of Glo'ster hath convey'd him hence.
Some five or six and thirty of his Knights,
Hot questers after him, met him at gate,
Who, with some other of the lord's dependants,
Are gone with him tow'rd Dover; where they boast
To have well-armed friends.
Corn.
Get horses for your mistress.
Gon.
Farewel, sweet lord, and sister.
[Exeunt Gon. and Bast.
Corn.
Edmund farewel:—go seek the traitor Glo'ster,
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us:
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice; yet our pow'r
Shall do a court'sie to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not controul.
SCENE XI.
Enter Glo'ster Prisoner, and Servants.
Who's there? the traitor?
Reg.
Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.
Corn.
Bind fast his corky arms.
Glo.
What mean your graces?
Good my friends, consider you are my guests:
Do me no foul play, friends.
Corn.
Bind him, I say.
[They bind him.
Reg.
Hard, hard: O filthy traitor!
Glo.
Unmerciful lady as you are! I'm none.
-- 70 --
Corn.
To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find—
Glo.
By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the beard.
Reg.
So white, and such a traitor?
Glo.
Naughty lady,
These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin
Will quicken and accuse thee. I'm your host;
With robber's hands, my hospitable favours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
Corn.
Come, Sir, what letters had you late from France?
Reg.
Be simple answerer, for we know the truth.
Corn.
And what confed'racy have you with the traitors
Late footed in the kingdom?
Reg.
To whose hands
Have you sent the lunatick King? speak.
Glo.
I have a letter guessingly set down,
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
And not from one oppos'd.
Corn.
Cunning—
Reg.
And false.
Corn.
Where hast thou sent the King?
Glo.
To Dover.
Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?
Wast thou not charg'd, at peril—
Corn.
Wherefore to Dover? let him answer that.
Glo.
I am ty'd to th' stake, and I must stand the course.
Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?
Glo.
Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish phangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night indur'd, would have buoy'd up
-- 71 --
And quench'd the steeled fires:
Yet poor old heart, he help'd the heav'ns to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou should'st have said, good porter turn the key;
All cruels else subscribe; but I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.
Corn.
See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
Upon these eyes of thine, I'll set my foot.
[Glo'ster is held down while Cornwall treads out one of his eyes.
Glo.
He that will think to live 'till he be old,
Give me some help.—O cruel! O you gods!
Reg.
One side will mock another; th' other too.
Corn.
If you see vengeance—
Ser.
Hold your hand, my lord:
I've serv'd you ever since I was a child;
But better service have I never done you,
Than now to bid you hold.
Reg.
How now, you dog?
Serv.
If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?
Corn.
My villain!
Serv.
Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger.
[Fight, in the scuffle Cornwall is wounded.
Reg.
Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus?
[Kills him.
Ser.
Oh, I am slain—my lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him. Oh—
[Dies.
Corn.
Lest it see more, prevent it; out vile gelly:
Where is thy lustre now?
[Treads out the other eye.
Glo.
All dark and comfortless—where's my son Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature
To quit this horrid act.
Reg.
Out, treacherous villain.
-- 72 --
Thou call'st on him that hates thee: It was he
That made the overture of thy treasons to us:
Who is too good to pity thee.
Glo.
O my follies!
Then Edgar was abus'd. Kind gods, forgive
Me that, and prosper him.
Reg.
Go thrust him out
At gates, and let him smell his way to Dover.
[Ex with Glo'ster.
How is't my lord? how look you?
Corn.
I have receiv'd a hurt; follow me, lady.—
Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave
Upon the dunghil.—Regan, I bleed apace.
Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.
[Exeunt.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
