dews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creatures of the

earth.

St. Withold footed thrice the wold;

He met the night-mare, and ber nine-fold,
Bid ber alight, and ber troth plight,
And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee.
Kent. How fares your Grace?

SCENE VII.

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 swimming frog, the toad, the todpole; the wall-newt, and the water-newt; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cowdung for fallets; swallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipt from tything to tything, and ftock-punifh'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 small geer
Have been Tom's food for feven long year.

Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin, peace, thou fiend!
Glo. Whát, hath your Grace no better company

Edg. The Prince of darkness is a gentleman, Modo he's call'd, and Mabu.

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

Edg. Tom's a-cold.

Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot fuffer
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 seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food are ready.
Lear. Firft let me talk with this philofopher;

What is the cause of thunder?

Kent. My good Lord, take this offer,

Go into th' house.

Lear. I'll talk a word with this fame learned Theban

Wh

What is your ftudy?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermia.
Lear. Let us afk you one word in private.
Kent. Importune him to go, my Lord,

His wits begin, t' unfettle.

Glo. Canft 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 my felf; I had a fon,

Now out-law'd from my blood, he fought my life
But lately, very late; Í lov'd him, friend,

No father his fon dearer: true to tell thee,
The grief hath craz'd my wits.

I do befeech your Grace.

Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:

Noble philofopher, your company.

Edg. Tom's a-cold.

What a night's this!

Glo. 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.

Kant.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, hufh.

Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came,

His word was ftill, fie, foh, and fum,

I fmell the blood of a British man.

SCENE VIII. Glo'fter's Caftle.

Enter Cornwall and Baftard.

[Exeunt.

Corn. I will have revenge, ere I depart his house. Baft. How, my Lord, I may be cenfur'd, that na

་

The fables of fuch a turn as that from which these l'nes are quoted being generally taken from books of Spanish Chivalry, it ispre: ble the word ftood there Infante Orl no or which the tranf· Jator ignorantly put Child Rowlands whereas Infante meant a Prince, onc of the King's fons.

ture

ture thus gives way to loyalty; something fears me to think of.

Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your brother's evil difpofition made him feek his death: but a provoked spirit fet a-work by a reprovable badness in him.

Baft. How malicious is my fortune, that I muft repent to be juft! this is the letter which he fpoke of; which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. Oh heav'ns! that this treafon were not; or not I the detector !

Corn. Go with me to the Dutchess.

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

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

Baft. If I find him comforting the King, it will fluf his fufpicion more fully.[Afide.] I will perfevere in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be fore between that and my blood.

[Aloud,

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

[Exeunt. SCENE IX. A Chamber in a Farm-boufe. Enter Kent and Gio'fter.

Glo. Here 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 pow'r of his wits has given way to his impatience: the Gods reward your kindness!

Enter Lear, Edgar, and Fool.

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

Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman, or a yeoman?

Lear. A King, a King.

Fool. No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his fon: For he's a yeoman that fees his fon a gentleman before him. Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits

1

Come hizzing in upon 'em.

Edg

Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.

Fool. He's mad that trufts in the tameness of a wolf, the
health of a horse, the love of a boy, or the oath of a whore.
Lear. It fhall be done, I will arraign 'em ftrait.
Come, fit thou here, most learned jufticer. [To the Fool.
Thou fapient Sir, fit here-now, ye fhe foxes-[To Edgar.
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.
Lear. I'll fee their tryal, 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 of the commiffion,
Sit you too. Arraign her firft, 'tis Gonerill.

Fool. Come hither, Mistress, is your name Gonerill?
Lear. She can't deny it.

Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a Joint-ftool.
Lear. And here's another whofe warpt looks proclaim
What ftore her heart is made of. Stop her there.
Arms, arms, fword, fire, corruption's in the place:
Falfe jufticer, why haft thou let her 'scape?
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 so much,
They mar my counterfeiting.

Lear. The little dogs and all,

1

[Afide.

Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-beart; 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, brache, or lym;
Or bob-tail 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

breeds about her heart-Is there any caufe in nature that makes these hard hearts? You, Sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your gar

ments.

chang'd.

You will fay they are Perfian; but let them be

Re-enter Glo'fter.

Kent. Now, good my Lord, lye here, and reft a while. Lear. Make no noise, 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. Good friend, I pr'ythee, take him in thy arms; I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him:

There is a litter ready, lay him in't,

And drive tow'rd Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy mafter.
If thou fhouldft dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in affured lofs. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to fome provifion
Give thee quick conduct. Come, away, away. [Exeunt.
SCENE X. Glo'fter's Caftle.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Baftard, and Servants. Corn. Poft fpeedily to my Lord your husband, fhew him this letter, the army of France is landed; feek out the traitor Glo'fter.

Reg. Hang him inftantly.

Gon. Pluck out his eyes.

Corn. Leave him to my difpleasure. Edmund, keep you our fifter company; the revenges we are bound to take upon your traiterous father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke, where you are going, to a moft feftinate preparation we are bound to the like. Our pofts shall be fwift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewel, dear fifter; farewel, my Lord of Glo'fter.

Enter Steward.

How now? where's the King?

Stew. My Lord of Glo'fter hath convey'd him hence, Some five or fix and thirty of his Knights,

Hot