give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to fweeten my imagination! there's money for thee. Glo. O, let me kifs that hand. Lear. Let me wipe it firft, it fmells of mortality. Glo. O ruin'd piece of nature! this great world Shall so wear out to nought. Doft thou know me? Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough: do'ft thou fquint at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid; I'll not love. Read thou this challenge, mark but the penning of it. Glo. Were all the letters funs, I could not fee one. Edg. I would not take this from report; It is, and my heart breaks at it. Lear. Read. Glo. What, with this cafe of eyes? [Afide. Lear. Oh, ho, are you there with me? no eyes in your head, nor no money in your purfe? your eyes are in a heavy case, your purfe in a light; yet you see how this world goes. Glo. I fee it feelingly. Lear. What, art mad? a man may fee how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears: fee how yond juftice rails upon yond fimple thief. Hark in thine ear; change places, and handy-dandy, which is the juftice, which is the thief? Thou haft feen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar. Glo. Ay, Sir. Lear. And the creature run from the cur? there thou might'ft behold the great image of authority; a dog's obey'd in office. Thou rafcal beadle, hold thy bloody hand: Why doft thou lafh that whore? ftrip thy own back; For which thou whipp'ft her. Th' ufurer hangs the co- G 2 Το To fee the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my boots: harder, har. der, fo. Edg. O matter and impertinency mix'd, Reafon in madnefs! Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. 1 know thee well enough, thy name is Glo'fter; Thou must be patient; we came crying hither: Thou know'ft, the first time that we smell the air, We wawle and cry. I will preach to thee: markGlo. Alack, alack the day! Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come A troop of horfe with felt; I'll put't in proof; SCENE VIII. Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants. Gent. O, here he is, lay hand upon him; Sir, Lear. No refcue? what, a prifoner? I am even Gent. You fhall have any thing.. Lear. No feconds? all myself? Why, this would make a man, a man of salt : And laying autumn's duft. I will die bravely, Like a finug bridegroom. What? I will be jovial: Come, come I am a King. My mafters, know you that? Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. Lear. Then there's life in't. Come, an' you get it, You fhall get it by running: fa, fa, fa, fa. [Exit. Gent. A fight moft pitiful in the meaneft wretch, Paft fpeaking of in a King. Thou haft one daughter Who redeems nature from the general curfe Which twain have brought her to. Edg. Hail, gentle Sir. Gent. Sir, fpeed you: what's your will? Edg. Edg. Do you hear aught, Sir, of a battle toward ? Gent. Moft fure, and vulgar; every one hears that, Which can diftinguish found. Edg. But by your favour, How near's the other army? Gent. Near, and on fpeedy foot: the main defcry Stands on the hourly thought. Edg. I thank you, Sir: that's all. Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here, Her army is mov'd on. Edg. I thank you, Sir. [Exit. Glo. You ever gentle gods, take my breath from me; Let not my worfer fpirit tempt me again To die before you please! Edg. Well pray you, father. Glo. Now, good Sir, what are you? Edg. A moit poor man, made tame to Fortune's blows; Who, by the art of known and feeling forrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, Glo. Hearty thanks; The bounty and the benizon of Heav'n SCENE IX. Enter Steward. Stew. A proclaim'd prize! moft happy! That eyelefs head of thine was firft fram'd flesh To raife my fortunes. Old unhappy traitor, Briefly thyfelf remember: the fword is out That must destroy thee. Glo. Let thy friendly hand Put ftrength enough to't. Stew. Wherefore, bold peafant, Dar'it thou fupport a publish'd traitor? Hence, Like hold on thee. Let go. his arm. Edg. Chill not let go, Zir, without vurther 'cafion. Edg. Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pafs and 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old inan: keep out, che vor'ye, G..3... or ice try whether your coftard or my bat be the harder; chill be plain with you. Stew. Out, dunghill! Edg. Chill pick your teeth, Zir: come, no matter vor your foyns. [Edgar knocks him down. Stew. Slave, thou haft flain me: villain, take my If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body, [purse; And give the letters which thou find'st about me, To Edmund Earl of Glo'fter: feek him out Upon the English party: oh, untimely death!- [Dies. As badnefs would defire. Glo. What, is he dead? Edg. Sit you down, father: reft you. Let's fee thefe pockets; the letters that he fpeaks of, By your leave, gentle wax-and manners blame us not. Reads the letter. Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off. If your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from the lothed warmth whereof deliver me, and fupply the place for your labour. Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, Oh, undiftinguifh'd space of woman's will † ! And the exchange my brother. Here, i' th' fands Of murth'rous lechers: and in the mature time, Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well, Glo. Meaning, that the variations in it are fo fudden, and their liking and lothing follow fo quick upon each other, that there is no diftinguifhing fpace between them. Glo. The King is mad: how ftiff is my vile fenfe, And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose Edg. Give me your hand. [Drum afar off Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. SCENE X. Changes to a chamber. Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Phyfician. [Exeunt. Cor. O, thou good Kent, how fhall I live and work Kent. To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'erpaid; Cor. Be better fuited... These weeds are memories of those worfer hours. I pr'ythee, put them off. Kent. Pardon, dear Madam, Yet to be known, fhortens my laid intent; Till time and I think meet. Cor. Then be it so, My Lord. How does the King? [To the Phyfician. Phyf. Madam, fleeps still. Cor. O you kind gods! Cure this great breach in his abufed nature; Th' untun'd and jarring fenfes, O, wind up Of this child-changed father. Phyf. Please your Majefty, That we may wake the King? he hath slept long. Enter Lear in a chair, carried by Servants. Phyf. Ay, Madam; in the heaviness of sleep, We put fresh garments on him. Be |