Then Edgar was abused.

Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! Reg. Go, thrust him out at gates, and let him smell

His way to Dover.-How is 't, my lord? now look you?

Corn. I have received a hurt.-Follow me, lady.

Turn out that eyeless villain;-throw this slave Upon the dunghill.-Regan, I bleed apace: Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. [Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN. Servants unbind GLOSTER, and lead him out. 1st Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do, If this man come to good.

SCENE 1.--The Heath.

Enter EDGAR.

Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be con

temned,

Than still contemned and flattered. To be worst,
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear:
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,
Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!
The wretch thou hast blown unto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts.-But who comes
here?

Enter GLOSTER, led by an Old Man.

My father, poorly led?-World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age.

Old Man. O my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore

years.

Glo. Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:

Thy comforts can do me no good at all;
Thee they may hurt.

Old Man. Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.
Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes:
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 't is seen,
Our mean secures us; and our mere defects
Prove our commodities. Ah, dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abuséd father's wrath!
Mignt I but live to see thee in my touch,
I'd
I had eyes again!

say

Old Man.

How now? Who's there?

Edg. [aside]. O gods! Who is 't can say, "I am at the worst?"

I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom.

Edg. [aside]. And worse I may be yet. The worst is not,

So long as we can say, "This is the worst."
Old Man. Fellow, where goest?
Glo. Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man. Madman and beggar too.

Glo. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw; Which made me think a man a worm. My son Came then into my mind; and yet my mind Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard more since.

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods:
They kill us for their sport.

Edg. [aside]. And yet I must.-Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover? Edg. Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless the good man from the foul fiend! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at

once:

of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So, bless thee, master!

Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens plagues

Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched, Makes thee the happier.-Heavens, deal so still! Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,

That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly: So distribution should undo excess,

And each man have enough.-Dost thou know Dover?

May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers:

I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall
pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistress's command. Wear this: spare speech:
[Giving a favour.
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:
Conceive, and fare thee well.

Edm. Yours in the ranks of death.
Gon. My most dear Gloster!

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face.-I fear your disposition:
That nature which contemns its origin

Cannot be bordered certain in itself:
She that herself will sliver and disbranch
From her material sap, perforce must wither,
And come to deadly use.

Gon. No more: the text is foolish.

Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?

Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed? A father, and a gracious agéd man,

Whose reverence the head-lugged bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.

Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefited?

If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
It will come,

Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.

Enter KENT and a Gentleman.

Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back, know you the reason?

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, Which since his coming forth is thought of; which Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, That his personal return was most required And necessary.

Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer.

Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief?

Gent. Ay, sir: she took them, read them in

Would be a rarity most beloved, if all
Could so become it.
Kent. Made she no verbal question?
Gent. 'Faith, once or twice she heaved the
name of "father"

Pantingly forth, as if it pressed her heart:
Cried, "Sisters! sisters!-Shame of ladies! sisters!
Kent! father, sisters! What? i'the storm?
i' the night?

Let pity not be believed!"-There she shook
The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
And clamour moistened: then away she started
To deal with grief alone.

SCENE IV. The same. A Tent. Enter CORDELIA, Physician, and Soldiers. Cor. Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now As mad as the vexéd sea: singing aloud; Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, With harlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.-A century send forth: Search every acre in the high-grown field, And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer. -What can man's wisdom do,

In the restoring his bereavéd sense?

He that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phy. There is means, madam.
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,
The which he lacks: that to provoke in him,
Are many simples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.

Cor.

All blesséd secrets,

All you unpublished virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate
In the good man's distress !—Seek, seek for him;
Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it.