And when I've ftol'n upon these fons-in-law,

Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.

SCENE VIII. Enter a Gertleman, with Attendan
Gent. O, here he is, lay hand upon him; Sir,
Your most dear daughter-

Lear. No refcue? what, a prifoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune. Use me well,
You shall have ranfom. Let me have furgeons,
I am cut to th' brains.

Gent. You fhall have any thing.
Lear. No feconds? all my felf?

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 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 fhall get it by running: fa, fa, la, fa.

Gent. A fight moft pitiful in the meanest wretch,

Paft fpeaking of in a King. Thou haft a 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?

[Exit.

Edg. Do you hear ought, Sir, of a battel 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.

Gent. Though that the Queen on fpecial cause is here,

Her army is mov'd on..

[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

Edg. A moft poor man, made tame to fortune's blows, Who by the art of knowing and feeling forrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, I'll lead you to fome biding.

Glo. Hearty thanks;

The bounty and the benizon of heav'n
To boot!

SCENE IX. Enter Steward.
Stew. A proclaim'd prize! this is moft happy!
That eyelefs head of thine was firft fram'd flefh
To raife my fortunes. Old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thy felf remember: the fword is out
That must destroy thee.

Glo. Let thy friendly hand

Put ftrength enough to it.

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, Zir, without vurther 'cafion. Stew. Let go, flave, or thou dy'ft.

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pafs: an 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' 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 purfe If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body,

And give the letters which thou find'st about me
To Edmund Earl of Glofter: feek him out
On th' English party. Oh untimely death,-
Edg. I know thee well, a ferviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy Miftrefs,
As badness would defire.

Glo. What, is he dead?

Edg. Sit you down, father: reft you,

P 3

[Dies

Let's

Let's fee thefe pockets; the letters that he speaks of
May be my friends: he's dead; I'm only forry

He had no other deathfman.

By your leave, gentle wax

Let us fee

and manners blame us not:

To know our enemies minds we rip their hearts,

Their papers are more lawful.

Reads the Letter.

You bave many

Let our reciprocal vows be remembred. opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done if be return the conqueror. Then am I the prifoner, and bis bed my goal; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver and fupply the place for your labour.

F me,

Your (wife, fo I would say) affectionate Servant, Gonerill. Oh undiftinguish'd space of woman's will! * A plot upon her virtuous husband's life, And the exchange my brother. Here, i'th' fande Thee I'll rake up, the poft unfanctified Of murth'ious letchers: and in mature time, With this ungracious yaper ftrike the fight Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well, That of thy death and bufinefs I can tell.

Glo. The King is mad; how stiff is my vile sense, 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,

And woes, by wrong imaginations, lofe
The knowledge of themfelves.

Edg. Give me your hand :

[Drum afar off.

Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll beftow you with a friend.

SCENE X. A Chamber.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Phyfician.

[Exeunt.

Cor: O thou good Kent, how fhall I live and work

To match thy goodness? life will be too fhort,

Meaning, that the variations in it are fo fudden. and their liking and loathing follow fo quick upon each other, that there is o diftinguishable space between them.

SCENE

And ev'ry measure fail me.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'erpaid; All my reports go with the modest truth,

Nor more, nor clipt, but fo.

Cor. Be better fuited;

These weeds are memories of those worfer hours a
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 fo,

My Lord.

How does the King?

Phyf. Madam, fleeps ftill.

Cor. O you kind Gods!

[To the Phyfician

Cure this great breach in his abufed 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 fleep,
We put fresh garments on him.

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

Cor. O my dear father! Reftauration hang
Her medicine on my lips, and let this kifs
Repair those violent harms, that my two fifters
Have in thy reverence made!

Kent. Kind and dear Princefs!

Cor. Had you not been their father, thefe white flakes Did challenge pity of them. Was this face To be expos'd against the warring winds?

:

Mine enemy's dog, though he had bit me, fhou'd
Have ftood that night against my fire and waft
Thou fain, poor father, to hovel thee with swine
And rogues forlorn, in fhort and musty fraw ?
Alack, 'tis wonder that thy life and wits,

At

At once, had not concluded all. He wakes,
Speak to him.

Phyf. Madam, do you fpeak, 'tis fitteft.

Cor. How does my royal Lord? how fares your Majesty? 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 you die ?
Cor. Still, ftill, far wide

Phyf. He's fcarce awake, let him alone a while.
Lear, Where have I been? where am I? fair day-light?
I'm much abus'd; I fhould ev'n' die with pity
To fee another thus. I know not what ;

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 on 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,

Fourscore and upward, and to deal plainly with you,
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 thefe 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.

Gor. 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;

I know you do not love me ; for your fifters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have fome caufe, they have none.
Cor. No caufe, no cause.

Lear, Am I in France ?

Kent.