Thy Comforts can do me no good at all, Old Man. You cannot fee your way. Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no Eyes: Old Man. How now? who's there? Edg. O gods! who is't can fay I am at the worft? I am worse than e'er I was. Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom. Edg. And worfe I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can fay, this is the worst. Old Man. Fellow, where goeft? Glo. Is it a Beggar-man? Old Man. Madman, and Beggar too. Glo. He has fome rea fon, elle he could not beg. I'th' laft Night's ftorm, I fuch a Fellow faw; 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 fince: As Flies to th' wanton Boys, are we to th' gods, They kill us for their sport. Edg. How fhould this be? Bad is the Trade that muft play the Fool to forrow, Glo. Is that the naked Fellow ? Old Man. Ay, my Lord. Glo. Get thee away: if for my fake Thou wilt o'er-take us hence a Mile or twain Old Man. Alack Sir, he is mad. Glo. 'Tis the time's plague, when Madmen lead the Blind: Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure ; Above the reft, be gone. Old Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'Parrel that I have, Come on't, what will. Glo. Sirrah, naked Fellow. Edg. Poor Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further. Glo. Come hither Fellow. Edg. And yet I must; Blefs thy fweet Eyes, they bleed. Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover? [Exit. Elg. Both Stile, and Gate, Horfe-way, and Foot-path: poor Tom hath been scar'd out of his good wits. Bless thee good Man's Son, from the foul Fier.d. Glo. Here take this Purfe, thou whom the Heav'ns plagues Have humbled to all ftrokes, that I am wretched Makes thee the happier: Heav'ns deal fo ftill; Let the fuperfluous, and the Luft-dieted Man, That faves your Ordinance, that will not fee Because he do's not feel, feel your power quickly : So diftribution fhould undo excefs, And each Man have enough. Do'st thou know Dover ? Edg. Ay Mafter. Glo. There is a Cliff, whofe high and bending Head Looks fearfully on the confined Deep: Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the mifery thou do'st bear With fomething rich about me: from that place, I fhall no lending need. Edg. Give me thy arm; Poor Tom fhall lead thee. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The Duke of Albany's Palace. Enter Gonerill, Baftard, and Steward. Gon. Welcome my Lord, I marvel our mild Husband Not met us on the way. Now, where's your Mafter? Stew Madam within, but never Man fo chang'd: I told him of the Army that was Landed; He fmil'd at it. I told him you were coming, When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot, And told me I had torn'd the wrong fide out: Gon. Then fhall you go no further. It is the Cowish terror of his Spirit That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs A Miftreffes command. Wear this; fpare Speech, Baft. Yours in the ranks of Death. Oh, the difference of Man, and Man! Stew. Madam, here comes my Lord. Gon. I have been worth the whistle. Alb. Oh Goneril, [Exit Bastard. You are not worth the duft which the rude wind Blows in your Face. Gon. Milk-liver'd Man, That bear'ft a Cheek for blows, a Head for wrongs, Th ne honour, from thy fuffering. Alb See thy felf, Devil: Proper deformity feems not in the Fiend So horrid as in Woman. Gon. Oh vain Fool. Enter a Meffenger. Mef. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead, Slain by his Servant, going to put out The other Eye of Glofter. Alb. Glofter's Eyes? Mef. Mef. A Servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Alb. This fhews you are above, You Juftices, that these our nether crimes Mef. Both, both, my Lord. This Letter, Madam, craves a fpeedy Answere 'Tis from your Sifter. Gon. One way I like this well, But being Widow, and my Glofter with her, Upon my hateful life. Another way The News is not fo tart. I'll read, and anfwer. Exit. Alb. Where was his Son, when they did take his Eyes? Mef. Come with my Lady hither. Alb. He is not here. Mef. No, my good Lord, I met him back again. Alb. Knows he the wickedness! Mef Ay, my good Lord, 'twas he inform'd against him, And quit the House of purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course. Alb. Glofter, I live To thank thee for the love thou fhew'dft the King, SCENE III. [Exeunt. A Camp. Enter Cordelia, Gentlemen and Soldiers. Cor. Alack, 'tis he; why he was met even now As mad the vext Sea, finging aloud, Crown'd with rank Fenitar, and furrow weeds, With Hardocks, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckow Flowers, In our fuftaining Corn. A Century fend forth; Search every Acre in the high-grown Field, Gg 4 And And bring him to our Eye. What can Man's wifdom Gent. There are means, Madam: Our fofter Narfe of Nature, is repose, The which he lacks; that to provoke in him, Are many Simples operative, whofe Will clofe the Eye of Anguish. Cord. All bleft Secrets, power All you unpublish'd Virtues of the Earth Mef. News, Madam, Enter a Melanger. The British Powers are marching hitherward. It is thy bufinefs that I go about: therefore great France No blown Ambition doth our Arms incite, But love, dear love, and our Ag'd Father's Right: Soon may [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Regan's Palace. Enter Regan, and Steward. Reg. But are my Brother's Powers fet forth? Reg. Himself in Perfon there? Stew. Madam, with much adoe Your Sifter is the better Soldier.. Reg. Lord Edmand fpake not with your Lord at home? Reg. What might import my Sister's Letter to him? Reg. Faith he is pofted hence on ferious Matter. |