With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow

Send forth a cent❜ry;

In our fuftaining corn.
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye.

What can man's wifdom

In the reftoring his bereaved fense,

He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phyf. There are means, Madam :

Our fofter nurse of nature, is repofe;

The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many fimples operative, whose power
Will clofe the eye of anguish.

Cor. All bleft fecrets,

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediate
In the good man's diftrefs! feek, feek for him;
Left his ungovern'd rage diffolve the life,
That wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. News, Madam:

The British pow'rs are marching hitherward.
Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation ftands
In expectation of them. O dear father,

great

It is thy business that I go about: therefore
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 fee him!

France

[Exeunt.

which Smoke has, of making the eyes water. And as to the growth of it, Pliny tells us particularly that it fprings up in gardens and fields of barley; (Nafcitur in bortis et fegetibus hordeaceis) which our author here calls, in our fuftaining corn-1 obferve, in Chaucer it is written femetere; by a corruption either of the fcribe, or of vulgar pronuncia ton; if of the latter, it might from thence eafily fide, in progress of time, into fenitar.

SCENE,

SCENE, Regan's Palace.

Enter Regan, and Steward.

Reg.

Bu

UT are my brother's

Steru. Ay, Madam. Reg. Himfelf in perfon there? Stew. With much ado.

Your fifter is the better foldier.

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lady at home
Stew. No, Madam.

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

Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ign'rance, Glo'fter'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 mifery, to dispatch

His nighted life: moreover to defcry

The ftrength o' th' enemy.

Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops fet 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 fhould the write to Edmund ? might not you Transport her purposes by word? belike,

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

Stew. Madam, I had rather

Reg. I know, your Lady does not love her husband: I'm lure of that; and, at her late being here, She gave strange ceiliads, and moft fpeaking looks To noble Edmund. I know, you're of her bofom. Stew. 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

Than for your Lady's: you may gather more:
If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
And when your miflrefs hears thus much from you,
I pray, defire her call her wifdom to her. So farewell.
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 fhould few What party I do follow.

Reg. Fare thee well.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, the Country near Dover.

Enter Glo'fter, and Edgar, as a Peafant.

Glo. Weng. You do climb up it now. Look, how

Hen fhall I come to th' top of that fame hill?

Glo. Methinks, the ground is even.

Edg. Horrible steep.

Hark, do you hear the fea?

Glo. No, truly.

[we labour

Edg. Why then your other fenfes grow imperfect

By your eyes anguish.

Glo. So may it be, indeed.

Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
In better phrafe and matter than thou didst.

Edg. You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,

But in my garments.

Glo. Sure, you're better spoken.

[fearful Edg. Come on, Sir, here's the place-ftand ftill. How And dizzy 'tis, to caft one's eyes fo low!

The crows and choughs, that wing the mid-way air,
Shew fcarce fo grofs as beetles. Half way down
Hangs one, that gathers famphire; dreadful trade!
Methinks, he feems no bigger than his head.
The fisher-men, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almoft too fmall for fight. The murmuring furge,
That on th' unnumbred idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard fo high. I'll look no more,

Left

Left my brain turn, and the deficient fight
Topple down headlong.

Glo. Set me, where you ftand.

Edg. Give me your hand: you're now within a foot. Of th' extream verge: for all below the moon

Would I not leap upright.

Glo. Let go my hand:

Here, friend, 's another purfe, in it a jewel

Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies, and gods,
Profper it with thee! Go thou further off,

Bid me farewel, and let me hear thee going.
Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir.
Glo. With all my heart.

[Seems to go.

Edg. Why do I trifle thus with his despair? "Tis done to cure it.

Glo. O you mighty gods!

This world I do renounce; and in your fights
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great oppofelefs wills,
My fnuff and loathed part of nature fhould
Burn itfelf out. If Edgar live, O blefs him!

Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps and falls along.
Edg. Good Sir, Farewel.

And yet I know not how conceit may rob

The treafury of life, when life itself

Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,

By this, had thought been paft.-Alive or dead?
Hoa, you, hear you, friend! Sir! Sir! fpeak!
Thus might he pafs, indeed-yet he revives.
What are you, Sir?

Glo. Away, and let me die.

Edg. Had'ft thou been aught but gofs'mer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating,

Thou'd'ft fhiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe, Haft heavy fubftance, bleed'it not; speak, art found? Ten mafts at each make not the altitude, (47)

Which

(47) Ten mafts attach'd-] This is Mr. Pope's reading; but I know not from what authority. Mr. Rowe gave it us, ten mafts at

leaft

Which thou haft perpendicularly fall'n.
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.

Glo. But have I fall'n or no?

Edg. From the dread fummit of this chalky bourn! Look up a height, the fhrill-gorg'd Lark so far Cannot be feen or heard: do but look up.

Glo. Alack, I have no eyes.

Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,

To end itfelf by death? 'twas yet fome comfort,
When mifery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
And fruftrate his proud will.

Edg. Give me your arm.

Up, fo-how is't? feel you your legs? you ftand.
Glo. Too well, too well.

Edg. This is above all ftrangeness.

Upon the crown o' th' cliff, what thing was that,
Which parted from you?

Gle. A poor unfortunate beggar.

Edg. As I ftood here below, methought, his eyes Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, Horns welk'd, and wav'd like the enridged fea : It was fome fiend. Therefore, thou happy father, Think, that the clearest gods, who make them honours (48) Of men's impoffibilities, have preferv'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 'twould fay,

The fiend, the fiend-he led me to that place.
Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts.

Enter Lear, dress'd madly with florvers.

But who comes here?

leaft-a

-a poor, dragging expreffion. All the old copies read, as I have reftor'd in the text, ten mafts at each.

'Tis certain, 'tis a bold phrafe, but I dare warrant, it was our author's; and means ten mafts placed at the extremity of each other. (48) Think, that the dearest gods-] This too is Mr. Pope's reading. All the authentic copies have it, cleareft gods; i. e. open, and righte ous, in their dealings. So, our author again, in his Timon ;

Roots, ye clear beav'ns!

The