Were like a better day: Those happy smiles,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd.-In brief, sorrow
Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all

Could so become it.

Kent. Made she no verbal question?

Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heav'd the name of father

Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart;

Cried, Sisters! sisters!—Shame of ladies! sisters!

Kent! father! sisters! What? i the storm? the night? Let pity not be believed!-There she shook

The holy water from her heavenly eyes,

And clamour moisten'd: then away she started,
To deal with grief alone.

Kent. It is the stars,

The stars above us, govern our conditions;

Else one self mate and mate could not beget

Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? Gent. No.

Kent. Was this before the king return'd?

Gent. No, since.

Kent. Well, sir; The poor distress'd Lear is i' the town:

Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers

What we are come about, and by no means

Will yield to see his daughter.

Gent. Why, good sir?

Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own un

kindness,

That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her

To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting
His mind so venomously, that burning shame
Detains him from Cordelia.

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman!

Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard

not?

Gent. 'Tis so; they are afoot.

Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master, Lear,
And leave you to attend him: some dear cause
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;

When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
Along with me.

SCENE IV. The same. A Tent.

[Exeunt.

Enter CORDELIA, Physician, and Soldiers. Cor. Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now

As mad as the vext sea: singing aloud;

Crown'd 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.—

What can man's wisdom do,

In the restoring his bereaved sense?

[Exit an Officer.

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 bless'd secrets,

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,

Spring with my tears! be aidant, and remediate,
In the good man's distress!—Seek, seek for him;
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Madam, news;

The British powers are marching hitherward.
Cor. 'Tis known before; our preparation stands
In expectation of them.-O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about;
Therefore great France

My mourning, and important tears, hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,

But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and see him!

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Room in GLOSTER'S Castle,

Enter REGAN and Steward.

Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth?
Stew. Ay, madam.

Reg. Himself

In person there?

Stew. Madam, with much ado:

Your sister is the better soldier.

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?

Stew. No, madam.

Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him?
Stew. I know not, lady.

Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out,
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his misery, to despatch

His nighted life; moreover, to descry

The strength o'the enemy.

Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow; stay with us; The ways are dangerous.

Stew. I may not, madam;

My lady charg'd my duty in this business.

Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not

you

Transport her purposes by word? Belike,

Something-I know not what :-I'll love thee much, Let me unseal the letter.

Stew. Madam, I had rather

Reg. I know, your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that: and, at her late being here, She gave strange ciliads, and most speaking looks, To noble Edmund: I know, you are of her bosom. Stew. I, madam?

Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I know it: Therefore, I do advise you, take this note: My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd; And more convenient is he for my hand, Than for your lady's: -You may gather more. If you do find him, pray you, give him this;

And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.

So, fare you well.

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,

Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam! I would show

What party I do follow.

Reg. Fare thee well.

SCENE VI.-The Country near Dover.

[Exeunt.

Enter GLOSTER, and EDGAR, dressed like a Peasant. Glo. When shall we come to the top of that same hill? Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how we labour, Glo. Methinks, the ground is even.

Edg. Horrible steep:

Hark, do you hear the sea?

Glo. No, truly.

Edg. Why, then your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish.

Glo. So may it be, indeed:

Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st

In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst.

Edg. You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd, But in my garments.

Glo. Methinks, you are better spoken.

Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place:-stand still.— How fearful

And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!

The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles: Half way down,