Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice, yet our power
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not control.-Who's there? the traitor?

Re-enter Servants, with GLOSTER.

Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

Corn. Bind fast his corky arms.

Glo. What mean your graces ?-Good my friends, con

sider

You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.

Corn. Bind him, I say.

Reg.

[Servants bind him.

Hard, hard.-O filthy traitor!

Glo. Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none.

Corn. To this chair bind him.-Villain, thou shalt find

[Regan plucks his beard.

Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done

To pluck me by the beard.

Reg. So white, and such a traitor!

Glo.

Naughty lady,

These hairs, which thou dost ravish from

my chin, Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host: With robbers' hands my hospitable favours

You should not ruffle thus. What will

What will you do?

Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from France?
Reg. Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth.

Corn. And what confederacy have you with the traitors Late footed in the kingdom?

Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak.

Glo. I have a letter guessingly set down,

Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,

And not from one oppos'd.

Reg. Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at

peril

Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that.

Glo. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course.
Reg. Wherefore to Dover?

Glo. Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.

The sea, with such a storm as his bare head

In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up,
And quench'd the stellèd fires:

Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said, "Good porter, turn the key,"
All cruels else subscrib'd:-but I shall see

The winged vengeance overtake such children.

Corn. See't shalt thou never.-Fellows, hold the chair.

Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.

Glo. He that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help!-O cruel!—O you gods!
Reg. One side will mock another; the other too.
Corn. If you see vengeance,—

First Serv.

Hold your hand, my lord:

I have serv'd you ever since I was a child;
But better service have I never done you
Than now to bid you hold.

Reg.

How now, you dog!

First Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?

Corn. My villain!

[Draws.

First Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of

anger.

[Draws. They fight. Cornwall is wounded. Reg. Give me thy sword.-A peasant stand up thus! [Takes a sword from another Servant, and

runs at First Servant behind.

First Serv. O, I am slain !-My lord, you have one eye

left

To see some mischief on him.(56)—O! ·

Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it.-Out, vile jelly!

Where is thy lustre now?

[Dies.

Glo. All dark and comfortless.-Where's my son Ed

mund ?

Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,

To quit this horrid act.

Reg.

Out, treacherous villain!

Thou call'st on him that hates thee: it was he

That made the overture of thy treasons to us;

Who is too good to pity thee.

Glo.

Then Edgar was abus'd.—

O my follies!

Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!

Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
His way to Dover.-How is't, my lord? how look you?
Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt :-follow me, lady.—
Turn out that eyeless villain;-throw this slave
Upon the dunghill.-Regan, I bleed apace:
Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm.

[Exit Cornwall, led by Regan.-Some of the Servants unbind Gloster, and lead him out. Sec. Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do, If this man come to good.

And, in the end, meet the old course of death,
Women will all turn monsters.

Sec. Serv. Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam To lead him where he would: his roguish madness

Allows itself to any thing.

Third Serv. Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of

eggs

To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him! [Exeunt severally.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The heath.

Enter EDGAR.

Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear:
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,
Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!

The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst
Owes nothing to thy blasts.-But who comes here?

Enter GLOSTER, led by an Old Man.

My father, poorly led ?-World, world, O world!
But that thy strange mutations make us hate 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 see your way.

Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw full oft 'tis seen,

Our means (57) secure us, and our mere defects
Prove our commodities.-O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abusèd father's wrath!
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,

I'd say I had eyes again!

Old Man.

How now! Who's there?

Edg. [aside] O gods! Who is't can say, "I am at the

worst"?

I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man.

'Tis poor mad Tom.

Edg. [aside] And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say, "This is the worst."

Old Man. Fellow, where goest?

Glo.

Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man. Madman and beggar too.

Glo. He has some reason, else he could not beg.

I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;

Which made me think a man a worm: my son

Came then into my mind; and yet my mind.

Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard more since. As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods,

They kill us for their sport.

Edg. [aside]

How should this be?

Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
Angering itself and others.-Bless thee, master!
Glo. Is that the naked fellow?

Old Man.

Ay, my lord.

Glo. Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake,

Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,

I'the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some covering for this naked soul,
Which I'll entreat to lead me.

Old Man.

Alack, sir, he is mad.

Glo. 'Tis the times' (8) plague, when madmen lead the

blind.

Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;

Above the rest, be gone.

Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,

Come on't what will.

Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow,

[Exit.

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.-I cannot daub it further. [Aside.
Glo. Come hither, fellow.

Edg. [aside] And yet I must.-Bless thy sweet eyes, they

bleed.

Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover?

Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits:-bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend!-five fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of