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But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Alb. This shows you are above,
Mess. - Both, both, my lord.—
Gon. [Aside.] "One way I like this well;
[Erit. Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
Mess. Come with my lady hither.
Alb. He is not here.
Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back again.
Alb. Knows he the wickedness?
Mess. Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course.
Alb. Gloster, I live To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king, And to revenge thine eyes.—Come hither, friend; Tell me what more thou knowest. [Ereunt.
The French Camp, near Dover.
Kent. Why the king of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason? Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, Which since his coming forth is thought of; which Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, That his personal return was most requir’d, And necessary. Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer. Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief? Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down Her delicate cheek: it seem’d, she was a queen Over her passion; who, most rebel-like, Sought to be king o'er her. Kent. O, then it mov'd her. Gent. Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears 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,
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
The Same. A Tent.
Enter CoRDELIA, Physician, and Soldiers.
Cor. Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd 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. [Erit an Officer.]—What
can man's wisdom do,
In the restoring his bereaved sense?
Phy. There is means, madam:
Cor. All bless'd secrets,
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! [Ereunt.