Lear. No feconds? all myself?

Why, this would make a man, a man of falt;
To ufe his eyes for garden-water-pots,

And laying autumn's duft. I will die bravely,
Like a fmug bridegroom. What? I will be jovial:
Come, come, I am a King. My Mafters, 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 fhall get it by running: fa, sa, sa, sa.

[Exit.
Gent. A fight moft pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Paft fpeaking of in a King. Thou haft one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curfe
Which twain have brought her to.

Edg. Hail, gentle Sir.

Gent. Sir, fpeed you: what's your will?

Edg. Do you hear aught, Sir, of a battle toward? Gent. Moft fure, and vulgar; every one hears that, Which can diftinguish found.

Edg. But by your favour,

How near's the other army ?

Gent. Near, and on speedy foot: the main defcry 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 moved on,

Edg. I thank you, Sir.

[Exit.

Glo. You ever gentle Gods, take my breath from me;

Let not my worfer fpirit tempt me again

To die before you please!

Edg. Well pray you, father.

Glo. Now, good Sir, what are you?

Edg. A moft poor man, made tame to fortune's blows, Who by the art of known and feeling forrows, 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!

Enter

Enter Steward.

Stew. A proclaim'd prize! moft happy!
That eyelefs head of thine was first fram'd flesh,
To raife my fortunes. Old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyfelf remember: the fword is out,
That must destroy thee.

Glo. Let thy friendly hand
Put ftrength enough to't.

Stew. Wherefore bold peafant,

Dar'ft thou fupport a publish'd traitor? hence,
Left that th' infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

Edg. Chill not let go, Žir, without vurther 'cafion.
Stew. Let go, flave, or thou dy'ft.

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gaite, and let poor volk pafs: and 'chud ha' been zwagger'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 ice try whether your coftard or my bat be the harder ; chill be plain with you. Stew. Out, dunghill!

Edg. Chill pick your teeth, Zir: come, no matter vor your foyns. [Edgar knocks him down. Stew. Slave, thou haft flain me: villain, take my purse; If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body,

And give the letters, which thou find'ft about me,
To Edmund Earl of Glofter: feek him out

Upon the English party: Oh, untimely death!-[Dies.
Edg. I know thee well, a ferviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy Mistress,

As badness would defire.

Glo. What, is he dead?

Edg. Sit you down, father: reft you.

Let's fee thefe pockets; the letters, that he fpeaks of,
May be my friends: he's dead; I'm only forry,
He had no other death's-man. Let us fee-

By your leave, gentle wax-and manners blame us not;
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts;
Their papers are more lawful.

Reads

LA

Reads the Letter.

ET our reciprocal vows be remembred. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your Will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done, if he return the Then am I the prifoner, and his bed my goal; from the loathed warmth "whereof deliver me, and fupply the place for your labour.

conqueror.

Your (wife, fo I would fay) affectionate Servant,

Gonerill.

Oh, undiftinguith'd fpace of woman's will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life,
And the exchange my brother. Here, i'th' fands
Thee I'll rake up, the poft unfanctified

Of murd'rous letchers and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper ftrike the fight
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 ftiff is my vile fenfe, That I ftand up, and have ingenious feeling

Of my huge forrows! better I were distract,
So fhould my thoughts be fever'd from my griefs;
[Drum afar off.
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lofe
The knowledge of themselves.

Edg. Give me your hand:

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.

Come, father, I'll beftow you with a friend. [Exeunt.

Cor.

SCENE changes to a Chamber.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Phyfician.

Thou good Kent, how fhall I live and work To match thy goodness? life will be too short, And ev'ry measure fail me.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'erpaid;
All my reports go with the modeft truth,
Nor more, nor clipt, but fo.

Cor.

Cor. Be better fuited ;

Thefe weeds are memories of thofe worfer hours:
I pr'ythee, put them off...

Kent. Pardon, dear Madam,

Yet to be known, fhortens my made intent; My boon I make it, that you know me not, 'Till time and I think meet.

Cor. Then be it so,

My Lord.- -How does the King? [To the Phyfician. Phyf. Madam, fleeps ftill.

༔ Cor O you kind Gods!

Cure this great breach in his abused nature;
Th' untun'd and jarring fenfes, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father.

Phyf. Please your Majefty,

That we may wake the king, he hath slept long?
Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I'th' fway of your own will: is he array'd?

Enter Lear in a chair, carried by Servants.

Phyf. Ay, Madam; in the heaviness of sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.

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

Cor. O my dear father! Restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kifs
Repair thofe violent harms, that my two fifters
Have in thy reverence made !

Kent. Kind and deareft Princefs!

Cor. Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face,
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
To ftand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder ?
In the most terrible and nimble ftroke

Of quick, crofs lightning? To watch poor Perdue,
With this thin helm ? My very enemy's dog,
Though he had bit me, fhou'd have flood that night
Againft my fire: And waft thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw? alack, alack!

"Tis wonder, that thy life and wits, at once,
Had not concluded all.-He wakes; fpeak to him.
Phyf. Madam, do you, 'tis fitteft.

Cor. How does my royal Lord? how fares your Majefty? Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o'th' grave; Thou art a foul in blifs, but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears
Do fcald like molten lead.

Cor. Sir, do you know me?

Lear. You are a fpirit, I know; when did
Cor. Still, ftill, far wide-

you die ?

Phyf. He's fcarce awake, let him alone awhile. Lear. Where have I been? where am I? fair day-light? I'm mightily abus'd; I should even die with pity, To fee another thus. I know not what to fay; I will not fwear, thefe are my hands: let's fee, I feel this pin prick: 'would I were affur'd Of my condition.

Cor. O look upon me, Sir,

And hold your hand in benediction o'er me.
No, Sir, you must not kneel.

Lear. Pray, do not mock me;

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourfcore and upward; and, to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks, I fhould 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 lodge laft night. Do not laugh at me,
For, as I am a man, I think, this lady

To be my child Cordelia.

Cor. And fo I am; I am..

Lear. Be your tears wet? yes,'faith; I pray you, weep not. If you have poifon for me, I will drink it;

fifters

I know, you do not love me; for your
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have fome caufe, they have not.

Cor. No caufe, no cause.

Lear. Am I in France ?

Kent.