Thy Comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee they may hurt.

Old Man. You cannot fee your way.

Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no Eyes:
I ftumbled when I faw. Full oft 'tis seen,
Our means fecure us, and our meer defects
Prove our Commodities. O dear Son Edgar,
The food of thy abused Father's wrath:
Might I but live to fee thee in my touch,
I'd fay I had Eyes again.

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,
Ang'ring it felf, and others. Blefs thee Mafter.

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
I'th' way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring fome covering for his naked Soul,
Which I'll intreat to lead me.

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,
His answer was, the worfe. Of Glofter's Treachery,
And of the Loyal Service of his Son,

When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot,

And told me I had torn'd the wrong fide out:
What most he should diflike, feems pleafant to him;
What like, offenfive.

Gon. Then fhall you go no further.

It is the Cowish terror of his Spirit

That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs
Which tie him to an anfwer; our wishes on the way
May prove effects. Back Edmund to my Brother,
Haften his Mufters, and conduct his Powers.
I muft change Names at home, and give the Distaff
Into my Husband's hands. This trufty Servant
Shall pafs between us: e'er long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,

A Miftreffes command. Wear this; fpare Speech,
Decline your Head. This Kifs, if it durft fpeak,
Would stretch thy Spirits up into the Air:
Conceive, and fare thee well.

Baft. Yours in the ranks of Death.
Gon. My moft dear Glofter.

Oh, the difference of Man, and Man!
To thee a Woman's fervices are due,
My Fool ufurps my Body.

Stew. Madam, here comes my Lord.
Enter Albany.

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,
Who haft not in thy brows an Eye difcerning

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,
Oppos'd against the act; bending his Sword
To his great Mafter: who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead,
But not without that harmful ftroke, which fince
Hath pluck'd him after.

Alb. This fhews you are above,

You Juftices, that these our nether crimes
So fpeedily can venge. But O poor Glofter!
Loft he his other Eye?

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,
May all the building in my fancy pluck

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,
And to reverge thine Eyes. Come hither Friend,
Tell me what more thou know'ft.

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,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow

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
In the restoring his bereaved Senfe? He that helps him,
Take all my outward worth.

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
Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediate
In the good Man's defire: feek, seek for him,
Left his ungovern'd rage, diffolve the life
That wants the means to lead it.

Mef. News, Madam,

Enter a Melanger.

The British Powers are marching hitherward.
Cord. 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them. O dear Father,

It is thy bufinefs that I go about: therefore great France
My mourning, and importun'd tears hath piticd.

No blown Ambition doth our Arms incite,

But love, dear love, and our Ag'd Father's Right:
I hear, and fee him.

Soon may

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Regan's Palace.

Enter Regan, and Steward.

Reg. But are my Brother's Powers fet forth?
Stew. Ay Madam.

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?
Stew. No, Madam.

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

Reg. Faith he is pofted hence on ferious Matter.
It was great ignorance, Glofter's Eyes being out
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves
All Hearts againft us: Edmund, I think, is gone