Excellent sybil! O my glowing blood! And pant for the possession. -Here Gloster comes, With business on his brow; be hush'd, my joys. Enter GLOSTER. Glost. I come to seek thee, Edmund, to impart a business of importance. I know thy loyal heart is touched to see the cruelty of these ungrateful daughters against our royal master. Edm. Most savage and unnatural! Glost. This change in the state sits uneasy. The commons repine aloud at their female tyrants; already they cry out for the re-instalment of their good old king, whose injuries, I fear, will inflame them into mutiny. Edm. 'Tis to be hop'd, not fear'd. Glost. Thou hast it, boy; tis to be hop'd indeed. On me they cast their eyes, and hourly court me To lead them on; and, whilst this head is mine, I'm theirs. A little covert craft, my boy, And then for open action; 'twill be employment Worthy such honest daring souls as thine. Thou, Edmund, art my trusty emissary. Haste on the spur, at the first break of day, With these dispatches to the duke of Cambray. [Gives him Letters. You know what mortal feuds have always flam'd Between this Duke of Cornwall's family, and his; Full twenty thousand mountaineers Th' inveterate prince will send to our assistance. Despatch; commend us to his grace, and prosper. Edm. Yes, credulous old man, I will commend you to his grace, [Exit GLOSTER. His grace the Duke of Cornwall:instantly, The chol❜ric duke gives sentence on thy life; [Retires. GLOSTER returns, followed by CORDELIA and ARANTHE, poorly dressed ;-EDMUND observing at a distance. Cord. Turn, Gloster, turn; by all the sacred pow'rs, I do conjure you give my griefs a hearing: [Kneels. Glost. What wouldst thou, princess? Rise, and speak thy griefs. Cord. Nay, you shall promise to redress them too, Or here I'll kneel for ever. I entreat Thy succour for a father, and a king, An injur'd father, and an injur'd king. Edm. O charming sorrow! How her tears adorn her! Glost. Consider, princess, [Raises her. For whom thou begg'st, 'tis for the king that wrong'd thee. Cord. O name not that; he did not, could not, wrong me. Nay, muse not, Gloster; for it is too likely This injur'd king ere this is past your aid, distracted with his savage wrongs, Edm. I'll gaze no more;--and yet my eyes are charm'd. And gone Cord. Or, what if it be worse?-Can there be worse? Ah, 'tis too probable, this furious night Has pierc'd his tender body; the bleak winds And cold rain chill'd, or lightning struck, him dead; If it be so, your promise is discharg'd, And I have only one poor boon to beg; That you'd convey me to his breathless trunk, To wash his clay-smear'd cheeks, and die beside him. [Exit GLOSTER. My injur'd master, and thy virtue tells me Cord. I cannot dread the furies in this case. To shelter in. Cord. Therefore no shelter for the king, What have not women dar'd for vicious love! For piety as much. Blow winds, and lightnings fall; Bold in my virgin innocence I'll fly, My royal father to relieve, or die. [Thunder. [Exeunt CORDELIA and ARANTHE. Edm. In this disguise, we'll instantly Go seek the king!--Ha! ha! a lucky change: That virtue, which I fear'd would be my hind'rance, Has prov'd the bawd to my design. I'll bribe two ruffians shall at distance follow, And seize them in some desert place; and there T'inform me where she's lodg'd: I'll be disguis'd too. With these dispatches: then to the field, [Exit. SCENE III. Another Part of the Heath.-Rain-Thunder-Light ning. Enter KING LEAR and KENt. Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good, my lord, enter: The tyranny of this open night's too rough For nature to endure. Lear. Let me alone. Kent. Good my lord, enter. Lear. Wilt break my heart? Kent. I'd rather break mine own. Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee; Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand For lifting food to't?— But I'll punish home! No, I will weep no more. [Rain-Thunder-Lightning. In such a night To shut me out! -Pour on, I will endure- In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! Kent. See, my lord, here's the entrance. And pass it all: I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, Edg. [In the Hovel.] Five fathom and a half.- Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i' th' straw? Come forth. Enter EDGAR, disguised. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me-Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind-Mum, go to thy bed and warm thee--Ha! what do I see? By all my griefs, the poor old king bare-headed, And drench'd in this foul storm! Professing syrens, Are all your protestations come to this? Lear. Tell me, fellow, didst thou give all to thy two daughters ? Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom, whom the foul fiend has led through fire and through flame, through bushes and bogs? that has laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; that has made him proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting horse over |