Reg. One fide will mock another; th' other too. Serv. Hold your hand, my lord : I've ferv'd you, ever fince I was a child; Reg. How now, you dog? Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, Serv. Nay then come on, Serv. Oh, I am flain eye left What do you mean? and take the chance of anger. Scuffle Cornwall is wounded. A peasant stand up thus ? [Kills him. my lord, you have one To fee fome mischief on him. Oh Corn. Left it fee more, prevent it; out, vile gelly: Where is thy luftre now? Glo. All dark and comfortless: Edmund? [Dies. Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature To quit this horrid act. Reg. Out, treacherous villain. Thou call'ft on him, that hates thee: It was he, Who is too good to pity thee. Glo. O my follies! Then Edgar was abus'd. Kind gods, forgive Me that, and prosper him! Reg. Go thruft him out At gates, and let him fmell his way to Dover. How is't, my lord, how look you? Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt ; [Ex. with Glofter, follow me, lady. Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this flave Upon the dunghil. Untimely comes this hurt. Regan, I bleed apace. f. Serv. I'll never care what Wickedness I do (19) If this Man come to Good. 2d. Serv. If fhe live long, And, in the End, meet the old courfe of Death, ift. Serv. Let's follow the old Earl, and get the To lead him where he would; his roguish Madness 2d. Serv. Go thou; I'll fetch fome Flax and whites of Eggs T' apply to's bleeding Face. Now, Heaven help him! [Exeunt feverally. Y A CT IV. SCENE, an open Country. Enter EDGAR. ET better thus, and known to be contemn'd, Stands ftill in efperance; lives not in fear. Welcome then, Thou unfubftantial air, that I embrace! The wretch, that thou haft blown unto the worst, (19) I'll never care what Wickedness I do,] This short Dia logue I have inferted from the Old Quarto, because I think It full of Nature. Servants, in any Houfe, could hardly fee fuck a Barbarity committed on their Master, without Reflexions of Pity; and the Vengeance that they presume must overtake the Actors of it, is a Sentiment and Doctrine well worthy of the Stage. Enter Enter Glo'fter, led by an old man. But who comes here? My father poorly led? World, world, O world! (20) But that thy ftrange Mutations make us wait 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. You cannot fee your way. Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes:. I ftumbled when I faw. Full oft 'tis feen, Our mean fecures us; and our meer defects Prove our commodities. O dear fon Edgar, The food of thy abused father's wrath ; Might I but live to fee thee in my Touch, I'd fay, I had eyes again! Old Man. How now? who's there? Edg. O Gods! who is't can fay, I'm at the work? I'm worse, than e'er I was. Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom. Edg. And worfe I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can fay, this is the worst. (20) World, World, O World! But that thy frange Mutations make us hate thee,] The Reading of this Paffage, as it has thus ftood in all the Editions, has been endeavour'd to be explain'd feverally into a Meaning; but not fatisfactorily. Mr. Pope's mock-reasoning upon it has already been rallied in Print, fo I forbear to revive it: and the Gentleman, who then advanced a Comment of his own upon the Paffage, has fince come over to my Emendation. My Explanation of the Poet's Sentiment was, "If the Num "ber of Changes and Viciffitudes, which happen in Life, "did not make us wait, and hope for fome Turn of For"tune for the better, we could never fupport the Thought of "living to be Old, on any other Terms." And our Duty, as human Creatures, is piously inculcated in this Reflexion of the Author. Old. Old Man. Fellow, where goeft? Glo. Is it a beggar-man? Old Man. Madman, and beggar too. Glo. He has fome reason, else he could not beg. Which made me think a man, a worm. My fon Came then into my mind; and yet my mind Was then scarce friends with him. I've heard more fince. Edg. How fhould this be? Bad is the trade muft play the fool to forrow, Ang'ring it felf and others. -Bless thee, master. Glo. Is that the naked fellow? Old Man. Ay, my lord. Glo. Get thee away: if, for my fake, Old Man. Alack, Sir, he is mad. Glo. 'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind: Do as I bid, or rather do thy pleasure ; Above the reft, be gone. Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have, Come on't, what will. Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow. [Exit. Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold; — I cannot daub it further. Edg. And yet I muft; Blefs thy fweet eyes, they bleed. Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover? Edg. Both ftile and gate, horfe-way and foot-path : poor Tom hath been fear'd out of his good wits. Blefs = thee, good man, from the foul fiend. Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of Luft, as Obidicut, Hobbididen, Prince of dumbness; Mahu, of ftealing; Mobu, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowVOL. VI. D ing; ing; who fince poffeffes chamber-maids and waiting women. Glou. Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues Have humbled to all ftrokes. That I am wretched, That flaves your ordinance, that will not fee So diftribution fhould undo excefs, And each man have enough. Doft thou know Dover? Edg. Ay, mafter. Glo. There is a cliff, whofe high and bending head Looks fearfully on the confined deep: Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the mifery, thou dost bear, With fomething rich about me: from that place I fhall no leading need. Edg. Give me thy arm; Poor Tom fhall lead thee. Gon. [Exeunt. SCENE, the Duke of Albany's Palace. Enter Gonerill, and Edmund. 7ELCOME, my lord. I marvel, our mild husband WELCO Not met us on the way. Enter Steward. Now, where's your Master? Stew. Madam, within; but never man fo chang'd: I told him of the army that was landed : He fmil'd at it. I told him, you were coming, When I inform'd him, then he call'd me fot; What most he should dislike, feems pleasant to him ; Gon. |