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' brains.

Gent.
You shall have any thing.

Lear.
No seconds? all my self?
Why, this would make a man, a man of salt;
To use his eyes for garden-water-pots,
And laying autumn's dust. 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. Come, an you get it,
You shall get it by running: sa, sa, sa, sa. [Exit.

Gent.
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.

Edg.
Hail, gentle Sir.

Gent.
Sir, speed you: what's your Will?

Edg.
Do you hear aught, Sir, of a battle toward?

Gent.
Most sure, and vulgar; every one hears that,
Which can distinguish sound.

Edg.
But by your favour,
How near's the other army?

Gent.
Near, and on speedy foot: the main descry
Stands on the hourly thought.

Edg.
I thank you, Sir: That's all.

Gent.
Though that the Queen on special cause is here
Her army is mov'd on. [Exit.

Edg.
I thank you, Sir.

Glo.
You ever gentle Gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit 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,
^{9 note}
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;
The bounty and the benizon of heav'n
To boot, and boot!—

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