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What is your ftudy?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear. Let us afk you one word in private.

Kent. Importune him to go, my Lord,

His wits begin t' unsettle.

Glo. Canft thou blame him?

[Storm fill.

His daughters feek his death: ah, that good Kent!

He faid it would be thus; poor banish'd man!

Thou fay'ft the King grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
I'm almoft mad my felf; I had a fon,

Now out-law'd from my blood, he fought my life
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,
No father his fon dearer: true to tell thee,

The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this!
I do befeech your Grace.

Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:

Noble philofopher, 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 ftill with my philofopher.

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Kent. Good my Lord, footh him; let him take the fellow. Glo. Take him you on.

Kent, Sirrah, come on; along with us.

Lear. Come, good Athenian.

Glo. No words, no words, hush.

*

Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came,

His word was ftill, fie, foh, and fum,

I fmell the blood of a British man.

SCENE VIII. Glo'fter's Caftle.

Enter Cornwall and Baftard.

[Exeunt.

Corn. I will have revenge, ere I depart his house.
Baft. How, my Lord, I may be cenfur'd, that na-

The fables of fuch a turn as that from which these lines are quoted being generally taken from books of Spanish Chivalry, it is probable the word stood there Infante Orlando for which the tranflator ignorantly put Child Rowland: whereas Infante meant a Prince, one of the King's fons.

fure

nature thus gives way to loyalty; fomething fears me to think of.

Carn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your brother's evil difpofition made him feek his death: but a provoked fpirit fet a-work by a reprovable badness in bim.

Baft. How malicious is my fortune, that I muft repent to be just! this is the letter which he fpoke of; which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. Oh heav'ns! that this treafon were not; or not I the detector !

Corn. Go with me to the Dutchefs.

Baft. If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty bufinefs in hand.

Corn. True or falfe, it hath made thee Earl of Glofter feek but where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehenfion.

Baft. If I find him comforting the King, it will ftuff his fufpicion more fully. [Afide.] I will persevere in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be fore between that and my blood.:

[Aloud. Corn. I will lay truft upon thee ; and thou fhalt find a dearer father in my love.

[Exeunt SCENE IX. A Chamber in à Farm-boufe.

Enter Kent and Glo'fter.

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.

Egd. 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 fon: for he's a yeoman that fees his fon a gentleman before him. Lear. To have a thoufand with red burning fpits

Come hizzing in upon 'em.

Edg

Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.

[To the Fool.

Fool. He's mad that trufts in the tameness of a wolf, the health of a horse, the love of a boy, or the oath of a whore. Lear. It fhall be done, I will arraign 'em ftrait. Come, fit thou here, most learned jufticer, Thou fapient Sir, fit here now, ye the foxes Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for herrings. Croak not, black angel, I have no food for thee. Lear. I'll fee their tryal, bring me in the evidence. Thou robed man of juftice, take thy place,

And thou his yoke-fellow of equity,

Bench by his fide. You are of the commiffion,
Sit you too. Arraign her first, 'tis Gonerill.

[To Edgar. voice of a two white

Fool. Come hither, Miftrefs, is your name Gonerill?
Lear. She can't deny it.

Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a Joint-stool.
Lear. And here's another whose warpt looks proclaim
What store her heart is made of. Stop her there.
Arms, arms, fword, fire, corruption's in the place:
Falfe jufticer, why haft thou let her 'scape ?
Edg. 'Blefs they five wits!

Kent. O pity! Sir, where is the patience now,

That you fo oft have boafted to retain ?

Edg. My tears begin to take his part fo much,

They mar my counterfeiting.

Lear. The little dogs and all,

[Afide

Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart; fee, 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;

Maftiff, grey-hound, mungril grim,
Hound or fpaniel, brache, or lym;
Or bob-tail 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: Seley, come, march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns; poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan

fee what

breeds

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 garYou will fay they are Perfian; but let them be

ments.

chang'd.

Re-enter Glo'fter.

Kent. Now, good my Lord, lye here, and rest a while. Lear. Make no noise, make no noise, draw the curtains: So, fo, we'll go to fupper i'th' morning.

Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon.

Glo. Come hither, friend, where is the King, my mafter? 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 fhalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy mafter.
If thou shouldft dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in affured lofs. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to fome provifion

Give thee quick conduct. Come, away, away. [Exeunt.
SCENE X. Glo'fter's Caftle.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Baftard, and Servants. Corn. Poft fpeedily to my Lord your husband, fhew him this letter, the army of France is landed; feek out the traitor Glofter.

Reg. Hang him inftantly.

Gon. Pluck out his eyes.

Corn. Leave him to my difpeasure. Edmund, keep you our fifter 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 moft feftinate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our pofts fhall be fwift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewel, dear fifter; farewel, my Lord of Glofter.

Enter Steward. How now? where's the King?

Stew. My Lord of Glo'fter hath convey'd him hence. Some five or fix and thirty of his Knights,

Hot

Hot quefters after him, met him at gate,
Who, with fome other of the Lord's dependants.
Are gone with him tow'rd Dover; where they boaft
To have well-armed friends.
Corn. Get horses for your
Gon. Farewel, fweet Lord,

Corn. Edmund, farewel:

miftrefs.
and fifter.

[Exeunt Gon, and Bast. -go feek the traitor Glofter, [To the Servants,

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' fie to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not controul.

SCENE XI.

Enter Glo'fter Prisoner, and Servants,

Who's there? the traitor?

Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

Corn. Bind faft his corky arms.

Glo. What mean your Graces? Good my friends, confider

You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.

Corn. Bind him, I fay.

Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy traitor!

[They bind him.

Glo, Unmerciful Lady as you are! I'm none.

Corn, To this chair bind him. Villain, thou fhalt find

Glo. By the kind Gods*, 'tis most ignobly done

To pluck me by the beard.

Reg. So white, and fuch a traitor?

Glo. Naughty Lady,

These hairs which thou doft ravish from my chin
Will quicken and accufe thee. I'm your hoft;
With robber's hands, my hofpitable favour
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?

Corn. Come, Sir, what letters had you late from France?
Reg. Be fimple-anfwer'd, for we know the truth.
Corn. And what confed'racy have you with the traitors
Late footed in the kingdom?

By the kind Gods is not here meant a general title given to all t be Gods, but this is intended as a par icular appeal to thofe which were distinguish'd by the name of the Dis hofpitales,

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