b

I'm 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.——
Osw. I, madam ?

REG. I speak in understanding; you are, I know 't;

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.

Osw. Would I could meet him,† madam! I would show

What party I do follow.
REG.

Fare thee well. [Exeunt.

GLO.
Methinks you're 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
Hangs one that gathers samphire,-dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles† chafes,
Cannot be heard so high.-I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

GLO. EDG. Give me your hand:-you are now within a foot

Set me where you stand.

Of the extreme verge for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.

GLO.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel

Well worth a poor man's taking fairies and

gods,

Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off;

Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
EDG. Now fare you well, good sir.

[Seems to go. GLO. With all my heart. EDG. Why I do trifle thus with his despair Is done to cure it.

GLO.

O, you mighty gods!

This world I do renounce; and, in your sights, Shake patiently my great affliction off":

If I could bear it longer, and not fall

To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and loathed part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!-
Now, fellow, fare thee well.

EDG.

Gone, sir :-farewell.-[GLOUCESTER leaps, and falls along. And yet I know not how conceit may rob The treasury of life, when life itself

Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought, By this, had thought been past.—Alive or dead? Ho, you sir! friend !—Hear you, sir?—speak !Thus might he pass indeed :-yet he revives.-What are you, sir?

GLO.

Away, and let me die.

EDG. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer,

Thou'd'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;

Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound!

Ten masts at each make not the altitude,
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell!
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.
GLO. But have I fall'n, or no?

EDG. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn! a

Look up a-height;-the shrill-gorg'd lark so far Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.

GLO. Alack, I have no eyes.

Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,

To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
And frustrate his proud will.

EDG.

Give me your arm :

Up-so.--How is 't? Feel you your legs? You

stand.

eyes

*

Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea: It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours

Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee.

GLO. I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear

Affliction till it do cry out itself,

Enough, enough, and die. That thing you speak of,

I took it for a man ; often 't would say,

The fiend, the find! he led me to that place. EDG. Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here?