Glo.
When shall I come to the top of that same hill^{10 note}?

Edg.
You do climb up it now: look, 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.
Y' are much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,
But in my garments.

Glo.
Methinks, y' are 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,
Show 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^{1 note note}

; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
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 are now within a foot
Of th' extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.

Glo.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, is another purse; in it, a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies, and gods,
Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

Edg.
Now fare you well, good sir.

Glo.
With all my heart.

Edg.
Why I do trifle thus with his despair,
Is done to cure it.

Glo.
O, you mighty gods^{2 note}!

This world I do 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 loathed part of nature, should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!—
Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps, and falls along.

Edg.
Gone, sir: farewell.—
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself
Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought,
By this had thought been past.—Alive, or dead?
Ho, you sir! friend!—Hear you, sir?—speak!
Thus might he pass indeed;—yet he revives.
What are you, sir?

Glo.
Away, and let me die.

Edg.
Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;
Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.
Ten masts at each make not the altitude,
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell:
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.

Glo.
But have I fallen, or no?

Edg.
From the dread summit^{3 note} of this chalky bourn.
Look up a height; the shrill-gorg'd lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.

Glo.
Alack! I have no eyes.—
Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,
To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
And frustrate his proud will.

Edg.
Give me your arm:
Up:—so;—how is't? Feel you your legs? You stand.

Glo.
Too well, too well.

Edg.
This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that
Which parted from you?

Glo.
A poor unfortunate beggar.

Edg.
As I stood here below, methought, his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
Horns whelk'd, and wav'd like the enridged sea:
It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father,
Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours
Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee.

Glo.
I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
Affliction, till it do cry out itself
“Enough, enough!” and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man; often 'twould say,
“The fiend, the fiend:” he led me to that place.

Edg.
Bear free and patient thoughts.—But who comes here? Enter Lear, fantastically dressed with wild Flowers.
The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus.

Lear.

No, they cannot touch me for coining^{4 note}; I am the king himself.

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^{5 note}: draw me a clothier's yard.—Look, look! a mouse. Peace, peace!—this piece of toasted cheese will do't.—There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a

giant.—Bring up the brown bills^{6 note}.—O, well flown, bird!—i' the clout, i' the clout^{7 note}: hewgh!—Give the word.

Edg.

Sweet marjoram.

Lear.

Pass.

Glo.

I know that voice.

Lear.

Ha! Goneril!—with a white beard^{8 note}!—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 every thing I said!—“Ay” and “no” too was no good divinity. ^note

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 thy cause?—
Adultery.—
Thou shalt not die: die for adultery? No:
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.
Let copulation thrive; for Gloster's bastard son
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.—
Behold yond' simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks presageth snow;
That minces virtue, and does shake the head

To hear of pleasure's name; 11Q1064
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are centaurs,
Though women all above:
But to the girdle do the gods inherit,

Beneath is all the fiends: there's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption^{9 note};—fie, fie, fie! pah; pah! Give me 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^{1 note}; it smells of mortality.

Glo.
O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought.—Dost thou know me?

Lear.

I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me? No, 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 the case of eyes?

Lear.

O, ho! are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light: 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^{2 note}, 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 creature run from the cur? There thou might'st behold the great image of authority: a dog's obey'd in office.—

Edg.
O, matter and impertinency mix'd!
Reason in madness!

Lear.
If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster:
Thou must be patient. We came crying hither:
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air

We wawl, and cry. I will preach to thee: mark me.

Glo.
Alack! alack the day!

Lear.
When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools.—This a good block?—
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
A troop of horse with felt 11Q1065^{6 note}
: I'll put it in proof;
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. 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 a surgeon,
I am cut to the brains.

Gent.
You shall have any thing.

Lear.
No seconds? All myself?
Why, this would make a man, a man of salt,
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
Ay, and for laying autumn's dust^{7 note}.

Gent.
Good sir,—

Lear.
I will die bravely,
Like a smug bridegroom^{8 note}. 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 it. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

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^{9 note}

.

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.

Edg.
I thank you, sir. [Exit Gent.

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;
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 benison of heaven
To boot, and boot^{1 note}
!

Enter Oswald.

Osw.
A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes.—Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember:—the sword is out
That must destroy thee.

Glo.
Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to it. [Edgar interposes.

Osw.
Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
Lest that th' infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

Edg.
Chill not let go, zir, without varther 'casion.

Osw.

Let go, slave, or thou diest.

Edg.

Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been swagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man; keep out, che vor'ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder^{2 note}. Ch'ill be plain with you.

Osw.

Out, dunghill!

Edg.

Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir. Come; no matter vor your foins.

Osw.
Slave, thou hast slain me.—Villain, take my purse.
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
And give the letters, which thou find'st about me,
To Edmund earl of Gloster: seek him out

Upon the British party^{3 note}:—O, 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, father; rest you.—
Let's see his pockets: these letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends.—He's dead; I am only sorry
He had no other death's-man.—Let us see:—
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts,
Their papers is more lawful. [Reads.]

“Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror; then, am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol, from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

“Your (wife, so I would say)

“affectionate servant^{4 note},

“Goneril.”

O, undistinguish'd space of woman's will^{5 note}!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
And the exchange, my brother! 11Q1066—Here, in the sands,
Thee I'll rake up^{6 note}
, the post unsanctified

Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd duke. For him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.

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;
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves. [Drum afar off.

Edg.
Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father; I'll bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt.

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