You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends. Corn. Bind him, I fay, of [They bind him. Reg. Hard, hard: O traitor! thou fhalt find — Corn. Come, fir, what letters had you late from France P -- And what confed'racy have you with the traitors, Late footed in the kingdom? Reg. To whofe hands Have you fent the lunatick king? fpeak. Reg. Wherefore to Dover? Waft thou not charg'd, at peril Corn. Wherefore to Dover? let him firft answer that. Glo. I am ty'd to th' ftake and I must ftand the courfe. Reg. Wherefore to Dover? Glo. Because I would not fee thy cruel nails. Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce fifter Carve his anointed flesh; but I fhall fee The winged vengeance overtake fuch children.. Duke. See't thou fhalt never; flaves, perform your work; Out with those treacherous eyes; dispatch, I fay; [Ex. Glo. and Servants. If thou feest vengeance Gloft. [without] He that will think to live 'till he be old Give me fome help. O cruel! oh! ye gods. Serv. Hold, hold, my lord, I bar your cruelty; I cannot love your fafety, and give way To fuch barbarous practice. Duke. Ah, my villain! Serv. I have been your fervant from my infancy, But better service have I never done you Than with this boldnefs Duke. Take thy death, flave. t.. [Fight. Reg. Help here! are you not hurt, my lord? Re-enter Glocefter and Servants. Glo. All dark and comfortless- - where's Edmund? Edmund, enkindle all the fparks of nature Reg. Out, treacherous villain. Thou call'ft on him that hates thee: It was he, That broach'd thy treasons to us. Glo. O my follies! Then Edgar was abus'd. Kind gods, forgive Me that, and profper him! At gates, and let him fmell his way to Dover.. [Exeunt with Glo. How is't, my lord? how look you? Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt: follow me, lady. Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this flave Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace. Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. [Exit, led by Regan. END of the THIRD ACT. ACT Y ET better thus, and known to be contemn'd, Than fill contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst, The loweft, moft dejected thing of Stands ftill in efperance; lives not in fear. Enter Glocefter, led by an old Man. Who comes here? My father poorly led? World, world, O world! But that thy ftrange mutations make us wait thee, Life would not yield to age. Old Man. O my good lord, I have been your tenant, And your father's tenant, thefe fourscore years. Thee they may hurt. Old Man. You cannot fee your way. Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes: I ftumbled when I faw. O dear fon Edgar, Might I but live to fee thee in my touch, I'd fay, I had eyes again! Old Man. How now? who's there? Edg. O gods! who is't can fay, I'm at the worst? I'm worfe, than e'er I was. Old Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom. Glo. Is it a beggar-man ? Old Man. Madman, and beggar too. Glo. He has fome reafon, elte he could not beg. As flies to wanton boys, are we to th' gods; Edg. Alas, he's fenfible that I was wrong'd, Old Man. Ay, my lord. Glo. Get thee away: if, for my fake, Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain I' th' way tow'rd Dover, do it for ancient love; And bring fome covering for this naked wretch, Whom I'll intreat to lead me. O'd Man. Alack, fir, he is mad. Glo. 'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind : Do as I bid, or rather do thy pleasure; Above the reft, begone. Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have, Come on't what will. Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow ! [Exit. Edg. Poor Tom's a cold.-Icannot fool it further. Glo. Come hither, fellow, Edg. And yet I muft; Blefs thy fweet eyes, they bleed. Glo. Know ft thou the way to Dover? Edg. Both ftile and gate, horfe-way and footpath: poor Tom hath been scar'd out of his good wits. Blefs thee, good man, from the foul fiend. Glo. Glo. Here, take this purfe, thou whom the heav'ns plagues i Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched, Makes thee the happier: heav'ns deal fo ftill! Doft thou know Dover? Edg. Ay, mafter. Glo. There is a cliff, whofe high and bending head Looks fearfully on the confined deep : Bring me but to the very brink of it, Edg. Give me thy arm, Poor Tom fhall lead thee. [Exeunt SCENE, the Duke of Albany's Palace. Enter Gonerill and Edmund. Gon. Welcome, my lord. I marvel, our mild husband Not met us on the way. Enter Steward. Now, where's your master? Stew. Madam, within; but never man so chang'd: I told him of the army that was landed; He fmil'd at it. I told him you were coming; When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot. Gon. Then hall you go no further. It is the cowith terror of his fpirit, That dares not undertake. Back, Edmund, to my brother; [To Edm. Haften his musters, and conduct his powers. If 4 A mif |