SCENE VII.

Glo. I'm forry for thee, friend; 'tis the Duke's pleaWhofe difpofition, all the world well knows, [fure, Will not be rubb❜d or stopp'd *. I'll intreat for thee.

Kent. Pray, do not, Sir. I've watch'd and travell'd Some time I fhall fleep out, the rest I'll whistle: [hard; A good man's fortune may grow out at heels;

Give you good morrow.

Glo. The Duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. [Exit. Kent. Good King that must approve the common saw, Thou out of heaven's benediction com'ft

To the warm fun †! All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold

This shameful lodging.

Fortune, good night; fmile once more, turn thy wheel.

[He fleeps. SCENE changes to a part of a heath.

Enter Edgar.

Edg. I've heard myfelf proclaim'd;
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,
Efcap'd the hunt. No port is free, no place,
That guard and moft unufual vigilance

Does not attend my taking. While I may 'fcape,
I will preferve myfelf: and am bethought
To take the baseft and the poorest shape,
That ever penury, in contempt of man,

Brought near to beaft: my face I'll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins; elfe all my hair in knots;

* A metaphor from bowling.

And

† An old proverbial faying applied to thofe who are turn'd out of house and home, deprived of all the comforts of life, excepting the common benefits of the air and fun.

Approach, thon beacon, to this under-globe, [Looking up to the moon.
That by thy comfortable beams I may

Perufe this letter. Nothing almoft fees miracles,
But mifery. I know 'tis from Cornelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obícured courfe. Ifhali find time
From this enormous ftate, and feek to give
Loffes their remedies. All weary, &c.

And with prefented nakedness outface
The winds and perfecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortify'd bare arms,
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, fprigs of rofemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, fheep-cotes, and mills,
Sometimes with lunatic bands, fometimes with pray❜rs,
Inforce reer charity; poor Turlupin! poor Tom!
That's fomething yet: Edgar I nothing am.

SCENE IX.

Changes again to the Earl of Glo'fler's Cafle

Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.

[Exit

Lear. 'Tis ftrange, that they should fo depart from And not fend back my meffenger.

Gent. As I learn'd,

The night before there was no purpose in them

Of this remove.

Kent. Hail to thee, Noble mafter!

[home,

Lear, Ha! mak'ft thou thy fhame thy paftime?
Kent. No, my Lord.

Fool. Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters; horfes are ty'd by the heads, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men by th' legs; when a man is over-lufty at legs, then he wears wooden nether stocks.

Lear. What's he that hath fo much thy place miftook, To fet thee here?

Kent. It is both he and she,

Your fon and daughter.

Lear. No.

Kent. Yes.

Lear. No, I fay.

Kent. I fay, Yea.

Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, No.

Kent. By Juno, I fwear, Ay.

Lear. They durft not do't.

They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than murther,

To do upon refpect † fuch violent outrage:

Respect, for one in honourable employment.

Refolve

Refolve me with all modeft * hafte, which way
Thou might'ft deserve, or they impose this usage,
Coming from us?

Kent. My Lord, when at their home

I did commend your Highness' letters to them,
Ere I was rifen from the place, that shew'd
My duty kneeling, came a reeking post,
Stew'd in his hafte, half breathlefs, panting forth
From Gonerill his mistress falutation;

Deliver'd letters fpight of intermiffion +;

Which prefently they read; on whofe contents
They fummon'd up their meiny t, ftraight took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend

The leifure of their answer; gave me cold looks;
And meeting here the other meffenger,
Whofe welcome I perceiv'd had poifon'd mine;
(Being the very fellow which of late

Difplay'd fo faucily against your Highness),
Having more man than wit about me, I drew;
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries:
Your fon and daughter found this trefpafs worth
The fhame which here it fuffers.

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that Fathers that wear rags,

Do make their children blind;

But fathers that bear bags,
Shall fee their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,

Ne'er turns the key to th' poor.

[way.

But, for all this, thou fhalt have as many dolours || from Thy dear daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.

Lear. Oh, how this mother fwells up tow'rd my heart!

Hyflerica paffio, down, thou climbing forrow,

Thy element's below. Where is this daughter?
Kent. With the Earl, Sir, here within.

Lear. Follow me not; tay here,

VOL. VI.

Ď

[Exit.

Gent.

Intermiffion, for another meffage which they had then before them, to confider of; called intermiffion, because it came between

their leifure and the Steward's meffage.

Meiny, i. e. people.

A quibble intended between dolours and dollars.

Gent. Made you no more offence

But what you fpeak of?

Kent. None.

How chance the King comes with fo fmall a number? Fool. An' thou hadft been fet i' th' ftocks for that question, thou'dfit well deferved it.

Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll fet thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no lab'ring i' the winter. All that follow their nofes are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's not a nofe among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking-Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, left it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes upward, let it draw thee after. When a wife man gives thee better counfel, give me mine again; I would have none but knaves follow it, fince a fool gives it.

That, Sir, which ferves for gain,
And follows but for form,

Will pack when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the ftorm:
But I will tarry, the fool will ftay,
And let the wife man fly:

The knave turns fool that runs away;

The fool no knave, perdy.

Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool?

Fool. Not i' th' stocks, fool.

SCENE X. Enter Lear and Glofler.

Lear. Deny to fpeak with me? they're fick, they're

weary,

They have travell'd all the night? mere fetches.
The images of revolt and flying off.

Bring me a better anfwer

Glo. My dear Lord,

You know the fiery quality of the Duke:
How unremovable and fix'd he is

In his own courfe.

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confufion!-Fiery? what fiery quality? why, Glo'fter,

I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall and his wife.

† images, for indications.

Glo

Glo. Well, my good Lord, I have inform'd them so. Lear. Inform'd them? doft thou understand me, man? Glo. Ay, my good Lord.

Lear. The King would speak with Cornwall, the dear father

Wou'd with his daughter speak; commands her fervice? Are they inform'd of this? my breath and blood !—

Fiery the fiery Duke? tell the hot Duke, that"No, but not yet; may be he is not well;

"Infirmity doth still neglect all office,

"Whereto our health is bound; we're not ourselves, "When nature, being opprefs'd, commands the mind "To fuffer with the body." I'll forhear;

And am fall'n out with my more headier will,

To take the indifpos'd and fickly fit

For the found man !-Death on my ftate! but wherefore Should he fit here? This act perfuades me,

That this remotion of the Duke and her

Is practice only. Give me my fervant forth;

Go, tell the Duke and's wife, I'd speak with them:
Now, prefently, bid them come forth, and hear me,
Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum,

Till it cry, Sleep to death.

[Exit.

Glo. I would have all well betwixt you. Lear. Oh me, my heart! my rifing heart! but down. Fool. Cry to it, nuncle as the cockney did to the eels, when the put them i' th' pafty alive; the rapp'd 'em o' th' coxcombs with a ftick, and cry'd, Down, wantons, down: 'twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his horfe butter'd his hay.

SCENE XI.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Glo'fter, and Servants.

Lear. Good morrow to you both.

Corn. Hail to your Grace!

[Kent is fet at liberty..

Reg. I am glad to fee your Highness.

Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what reafon

I have to think fo; if thou wert not glad,

I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,

Sepulchring an adult'refs. O, are you free? [To Kent. Some other time for that.

Beloved Regan,

D 2

Thy