Bid her alight, and her troth plight, And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee. Kent. How fares your Grace?

Enter Glo'fter, with a torch.

Lear. What's he?

Kent. Who's there? what is't you feek?
Glo. What are you there? your names?

Edg. Poor Tom, that eats the fwimming frog, the toad, the tod-pole; the wall-newt, and the waternewt; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for fallets; fwallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the ftanding pool; who is whipt from tything to tything, and ftock-punish'd, and imprifon'd: who hath had three fuits to his back, fix fhirts to his body; Horse to ride, and weapon to wear;

But mice, and rats, and fuch fmall deer
Have been Tom's food for feven long year.

Beware my follower. Peace, Smolkin, peace, thou fiend!
Glo. What, hath your Grace no better company ?
Edg. The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman, Mode
he's call'd, and Mahu.

Glo. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is grown fo vile, That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg. Tom's a-cold,

Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
T' obey in all your Daughters hard commands:
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you;
Yet have I ventur'd to come feek you out,
And bring you, where both fire and food is ready.
Lear. First, let me talk with this Philofopher;
What is the cause of thunder?

Kent. My good Lord, take his offer,

Go into th' house.

Lear, I'll talk a word with this fame learned Thebans What is your study?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.

Lear

Lear. Let us afk you one word in private. Kent. Importune him once more to go, my Lord, His Wits begin t' unfettle.

Glo. Can't 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 myself; 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.

Go. 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.

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, fy, foh, and fum,

I fmell the blood of a British man.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Glofter's Caftle.

Corn. I

Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.

Will have revenge, ere I depart his house. Edm. How, my Lord, I may be cenfur'd, that Nature thus gives way to loyalty, fomething fears me

to think of.

• Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your

brother's

brother's evil difpofition made him feek his death: but a provoking merit, fet a-work by a reprovable badness in himself.

Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be just? this is the letter, which he spoke of; which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. Oh heavens! that this treafon were not; or not I the detector.

Corn. Go with me to the Dutchefs.

Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.

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

Edm. If I find him comforting the King, it will ftuff his fufpicion more fully--[afide.] I will perfevere in my courfe of loyalty, though the conflict be fore between that and my blood.

Corn, I will lay truft upon thee; and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, a Chamber, in a Farm-house.

Glo.

HE

Enter Kent and Glo'fter.

Ere 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 power of his wits has given way to his impatience: the gods reward your kindness!

Enter Lear, Edgar, and Fool.

Edg. Fraterreto calls me, and tells me, Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness: pray innocent, and beware the foul fiend. (32)

(32) Fraterrito cal's me,] As Mr. Pope had begun to infert several fpeeches in the mad way, into this fcene, from the old edition; I have ventur'd to replace feveral others, which stand upon the fame footing, and had an equal right of being reftor'd.

Feal.

F. Pythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a madman be a gentleman, or a yeoman?

Le A King, a King.

F. No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his fon for he's a mad yeoman, that fees his fon a gentleman before him.

Lear. To have a thousand with red burning fpits Come hizzing in upon 'em

Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.

Fool. He's mad that trufts in the tameness of a wolf, the health of a horfe, the love of a boy, or the oath of a whore.

Lear. It fhall be done, I will arraign 'em strait.
Come fit thou here, moft learned jufticer;
Thou fapient Sir, fit here-now, ye fhe-foxes!-
Edg. Look, where she stands and glares.
At tryal, Madam ?

Wanteft
[thou eyes
Come o'er the Broom, Bey, to me.
Fool. Her boat hath a leak, and the muft not fpeak
Why the dares not come over to thee.

Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herrings. Croak not black angel I have no food for thee.

Kent. How do you, Sir? ftand you not so amaz'd; Will you lye down, and reft upon the cushions?

Lear. I'll fee their tryal firft, 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 o' th' commiffion, fit you too. Edg. Let us deal juftly.

Sleepeft, or wakeft thou, jolly Shepherd ?

Thy Sheep be in the Corn;

And for one Blaft of thy minikin Mouth,
Thy Sheep fhall take no Harm.

Purre, the cat, is grey.

Lear. Arraign her firft, 'tis Gonerill. I here take my Oath before this honourable Affembly, the kick'd the poor King her father.

Fool. Come hither, Mistress, is your name Gonerill?

3

Lear.

Lear. She cannot deny it.

Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a Joint-tool.
Lear. And here's another, whofe wrapt looks proclaim
What store her heart is made of. Stop her there;
Arms, arms, fword, fire, -Corruption in the place!
Falfe jufticer, why haft thou let her fcape?
Edg. Blefs thy five wits.

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

That you fo oft have boasted 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 spaniel, braché, or hym;
Or bobtail 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: Seffey, come, march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns; poor Tom, thy horn is dry.
Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan fee what, *
breeds about her heart-Is there any caufe in nature
that makes thefe hard hearts? You, Sir, I entertain for
one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of
your garments. You will fay, they are Perfian; buţ
let them be chang'd.

Re-enter Glo'fter.

Kent. Now, good my Lord, lye here and reft a while. Lear. Make no noife, make no noife, 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.