thou whip'ft her. The Ufurer hangs the Cozener.
Thorough tatter'd Cloaths, great Vices do appears
Robes, and furr'd Gowns hide all. Place Sins with Gold,
And the ftrong Lance of Juftice, hurtlefs breaks:
Arm it in Rages, and Pigmy's Straw doth pierce it.
None does offend, none, 1 fay none, I'll able 'em;
Take that of me my Friend, who have the power
To feal the Accufer's lips. Get thee Glafs Eyes,
And like a fcurvy Politician, feem

To fee the things thou do'st not.

Now, now, now, now. Pull off my Boots: harder, harder, fo. Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt,

Reafon in Madness.

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my Eyes.
I know thee well enough, thy name is Gloster ;
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
Thou know'ft, the fift time that we fmell the Air
We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Mark-
Glo. Alack, alack, the day.

Lear. When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great Stage of Fools. This a good block!
It were a delicate Stratagem to fhooe

A Troop of Horfe with felt; I'll put'c in proof,
And when I have ftoll'n upon thefe Son-in-Laws;
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, ki!!.

Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants.

Gent. Oh here he is, lay hand upon him; Sir, Your most dear Daughter.

-

Lear. No refcue? what, a Prisoner? I am even
The natural Fool of fortune. Ufe me well,
You shall have ranfom. Let me have Surgeons,
I am cut to th' Brains.

Gent. You shall have any thing.

Lear. No Seconds? All my self?

Why, this would make a Man, a Man of Salt;

To ufe his Eyes for Garden-water-pots. I will die bravely,
Like a smug Bridegroom. What? I will be Jovial:

Come, come, I am a King. Mafters, know you that?
Gent. You are a Royal one, and we obey you.

Lear. Then there's life in't. Come, and you get it,

You shall get it by running: Sa, fa, sa, sa.

[Exit. Gent.

Gent. A fight moft pitiful in the meaneft wretch,
Paft speaking of in a King. Thou haft a Daughter
Who redeems Nature from the general curse,
Which twain have brought her to.

Edg. Hail, gentle Sir.
Gent. Sir, speed you: what's

your will?
Edg. Do you hear ought, Sir, of a Battel toward.
Gent. Moft fure, and vulgar :

Every one hears that, which can diftinguish sound.
Edg. But by your favour:

How neat's the other Army?

Gent. Near, and on fpeedy foot: the main discry Stands on the hourly thought.

Edg. I thank you, Sir, that's all.

Gent. Though that the Queen on special caufe is here, Her Army is mov'd on.

Edg. I thank you, Sir.

[Exit.

Glo. You ever gentle gods, take my breath from me, Let not my worfer Spirit tempt me again

To die before you please.

Edg. Well pray you, Father.

Glo. Now good Sir, what are you?

Edg. A moft poor Man, made tame to Fortune's blows, Who, by the Art of known, and feeling forrows, Am pregnant to good Pity. Give me your hand, I'll lead you to fome biding.

Glo. Hearty thanks;

The bounty, and the benizon of Heav'n

To boot, and boot.

Enter Steward.

Stew. A proclaim'd prize; moft happy;

That Eyeless Head of thine, was firft fram'd flefl
To raife my Fortunes. Thou old, unhappy Traitor,
Briefly thy felf remember: the Sword is out

That muft deftroy thee.

Glo. Now let thy friendly hand

Put ftrength enough to't.

Stew. Wherefore, bold Peafant,

Dar'ft thou fupport a publifh'd Traitor? hence,
Left that th' infection of his Fortune take

Like hold on thee. Let go his Arm.

Edg.

Edg. Chill not let go Zir, Without vurther 'cafion.

Stew. Let go, Slave, or thou dy'ft,

Edg. Good Gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pafs: and 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out of my Life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis, by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old Man: Keep out che vor'ye, or ice try whether your Coftard, or my Ballow be the harder; chill be plain with you.

Stew. Out Dunghill.

Edg. Child pick your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor your foyns. [Edgar knocks him down, Stew. Slave thou haft flain me: Villain, take my Purse; If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my Body,

And give the Letters which thou find'ft about me,
To Edmund Earl of Glofter: feek him out

Upon the English Party. Oh untimely death, death---[Dies.
Edg. I know thee well, a ferviceable Villain;

As duteous to the Vices of thy Mistress,

As badnefs would defire.

Glo. What, is he dead?

Edg. Sit you down, Father: reft you.

Let's fee thefe Pockets; the Letters that he speaks of
May be my Friends: he's dead; I am only forry

He had no other Deathfman. Let us fee

By your leave, gentle wax-and manners, blame us not,
To know our Enemies minds, we rip their Hearts,
Their Papers are more lawful.

Reads the Letter.

ET our reciprocal Vows be remembred. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done. If he return the Conqueror, then am I the Prifoner, and his Bed, my Goal, from the loathed warmth whereof, deliver me, and Supply the place of our Labour.

Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate
Servant, Gonerill,

Oh indiftinguish'd space of Woman's will!

A plot upon her virtuous Husband's Life,

And the exchange my Brother: here, in the Sands

Thee

Thee I'll rake up, the Poft unfanctified

Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time,
With this ungracious Paper ftrike the fight
Of the death practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well,
That of thy death, and bufinefs, I can tell.

Glo. The King is mad; how ftiff is my vile Sense
That I ftand up, and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge Sorrows? Better I were diftract,
So fhould my Thoughts be fever'd from my Griefs.

And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The Knowledge of themselves.

Edg. Give me your hand :

Far off methinks I hear the beaten Drum.

[Drum afar off.

Come, Father, I'll beftow you with a Friend.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

VI. A Chamber.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.

Cor. O thou good Kent, how fhall I live and work To match thy goodnefs? My Life will be too short, And every measure fail me.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, Madam, is o'erpaid, All my reports go with the modest truth,

Nor more, nor clipt, but fo.

Cor. Be better fuited,

Thefe weeds are memories of thofe worfer hours:

I prethee put them off.

Kent. Pardon, dear Madam,

Yet to be known fhortens my made intent, My boon I make it, that you know me not, 'Till time, and I think meet.

Cor. Then be't fo my good Lord,

How do's the King?

Gent. Madam, fleeps ftill.

Cor. O you kind gods!

Cure this great breach in his abused Nature,
Th' untun'd and jarring Senfes, O wind up,
Of this Child-changed Father.

VOL, V.

Hh

Gent. So please your Majefty,

That we may wake the King, he hath slept long? Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed I'th' fway of your own will: is he array'd?

Enter Lear in a Chair, carried by Servants.
Gent. Ay Madam; in the heaviness of fleep,
We put fresh Garments on him,

Be by, good Madam, when we do awake him,
I doubt not of his Temperance.

Cor. O my dear Father, Reftauration hang
Thy Medicine on my lips, and let this kifs
Repair thofe violent harms, that my two Sifters
Have in thy Reverence made.

Kent, Kind and dear Princefs!

Cor. Had you not been their Father, thefe white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this Face
To be oppos'd against the jarring winds?
Mine Enemies Dog, though he had bit me,
Should have flood that Night against my fire:
And waft thou fain, poor Father,

To hovel thee with Swine and Rogues forlorn,
In short, and mufty Straw? alack, alack,

'Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once

Had not concluded all. He wakes, fpeak to him.
Gent. Madam, do you, 'tis fitteft.

Cor. How does my Royal Lord?

How fares your Majefty?

Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o'th' Grave; That art a Soul in blifs, but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

Do fcald like molten Lead.

Cor. Sir, do you know me?

Lear. You are a Spirit I know, when did you die? Cor. Still, ftill, far wide

Gent. He's scarce awake, Let him alone a while.

Lear. Where have I been?
Where am I? fair day light?

I am mightily abus'd; I thould even die with pity
To fee another thus. I know not what to fay;
I will not fwear these are my hands: let's fee,