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Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants.

Gent. O, here he is; lay hand upon him.-Sir, Your most dear daughter

Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even The natural fool of fortune.-Üse me well;

You shall have ransome.

I am cut to the brains.

Let me have a surgeon,

Gent. You shall have any thing.
Lear. No seconds? All myself?

Why, this would make a man, a man of salt,
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,

Ay, and for laying autumn's dust.

Gent. Good sir,

Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What? I will be jovial; come, come; I am a king,

My masters, know you that?

Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you.

Lear. Then there's life in it. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

[Exit, running; Attendants follow

Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch;

Past speaking of in a king!-Thou hast one 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 aught, sir, of a battle toward ? Gent. Most sure, and vulgar: every one hears that, Which can distinguish sound.

Edg. But, by your favour,

How near's the other army

?

Gent. Near, and on speedy foot; the main descry Stands on the hourly thought."

Edg. I thank you, sir: that's all.

Gent. Though that the queen on special cause is here,

Her army is mov❜d on.

Edg. I thank you, sir.

[Exit Gent.

Glo. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me ;

Let not my worser spirit tempt me again

To die before you please!

Edg. Well pray you, father.

Glo. Now, good sir, what are you?

[6] A man of salt is a man of tears.

STEEVENS.

The main body is expected to be descried every hour. The expression is harsh.

JOHNSON

Edg. A most poor man, made tame by fortune's blows; Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, I'll lead you to some biding.

Glo. Hearty thanks :

The bounty and the benizon of heaven
To boot, and boot!

Enter Steward.

Stew. A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes.-Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember :-The sword is out
That must destroy thee.

Glo. Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to it.

Stew. Wherefore, bold peasant,

[EDGAR opposes

Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence ;

Lest that the infection of his fortune take

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion.
Stew. Let go, slave, or thou diest.

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been zwagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man; keep out, che vor'ye,' or ise try whether your costard' or my bat be the harder : Chi'll be plain with you.

Stew. Out, dunghill !

Edg. Chi'll pick your teeth, zir: Come; no matter vor your foins.3

[They fight; and EDGAR knocks him down.

Stew. Slave, thou hast slain me :-Villain, take my purse; If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;

And give the letters, which thou find'st about me,
To Edmund earl of Gloster; seek him out

Upon the British party :-O, untimely death!
Edg. I know thee well: A serviceable villain;

[Dies.

[8] Quickly recollect the past offences of thy life, and recommend thyself to hea

ven.

WARBURTON.

[9] Gang your gait is a common expression in the North. In the last rebellion, when the Scotch soldiers had finished their exercise, instead of our term of dismission, their phrase was gang your gaits. STEEVENS.

[1] Che vor ye---I warn you. Edgar counterfeits the western dialect.

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JOHNSON.

STEEVENS.

N

As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As badness would desire.

Glo. What, is he dead?

Edg. Sit you down, father;

rest you.

Let's see his pockets: these letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends. He's dead: I am only sorry
He had no other death's-man.-Let us see :-
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts ;
Their papers, is more lawful.^

[Reads.] Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

Your wife, (so I would say,) and your affectionate serGONERIL.

vant,

O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;

And the exchange, my brother!-Here, in the sands,
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified

Of murd'rous lechers: and, in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd duke :' For him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.

[Exit EDGAR, dragging out the body Glo. The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense, That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling

Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs;
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose

The knowledge of themselves.

Re-enter EDGAR.

Edg. Give me your hand :

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.

Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.

[Exeunt.

14] Our enemies are put upon the rack, and torn in pieces to extort confession of their secrets; to tear open their letters is more lawful." WARBURTON.

[5] O undistinguished licentiousness of a woman's inclination. STEEVENS. [e] I'll cover thee. In Staffordshire, to rake the fire, is to cover it with fuel for the night. JOHNSON,

[7] The duke of Albany, whose death is machinated by practice or treason. JOHNSON.

SCENE VII.

A Tent in the French Camp. LEAR, on a bed, asleep; Physician, Gentleman, and others, attending: Enter CORDELIA and KENT.

Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live, and work, To match thy goodness? 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 clipp'd, but so.

Cor. Be better suited:"

These weeds are memories of those worser hours;
I pr'ythee, put them off.

Kent. Pardon me, dear madam ;

Yet to be known, shortens my made intent:
My boon I make it, that you know me not,

Till time and I think meet.

Cor. Then be it so, my good lord.-How does the

king?

Phys. Madam, sleeps still.

Cor. O you kind gods,

[To the Physician.

Cure this great breach in his abused nature!

The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up

Of this child-changed father !9

Phys. So please your majesty,

That we may wake the king? he hath slept long.

Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed

I'the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?

Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep, We put fresh garments on him.

Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor. Very well.

Phys. Please you, draw near.-Louder the music there.

Cor. O my dear father! Restoration, hang

Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss

Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters

Have in thy reverence made!

Kent. Kind and dear princess!

Cor. Had you not been their father, these white flakes Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face

To be expos'd against the warring winds?

[8] Be better dressed, put on a better suit of clothes. [9] Changed by his children. MALONE.

STEEVENS.

To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick, cross lightning? to watch (poor perdu !)
With this thin helm! Mine enemy's dog,

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire; And wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
"Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all.—He wakes; speak to him.
Phys. Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.

Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty " Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o'the grave.-. Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

Do scald like molten lead.

Cor. Sir, do you know me ?

Lear. You are a spirit, I know

Cor. Still, still, far wide!

When did you die?

Phys. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile.

Lear. Where have I been? Where am I?-Fair daylight?

I am mightily abus'd.—I should even die with pity,

To see another thus.-I know not what to say.-
I will not swear, these are my hands :-let's see ;
I feel this pin prick.-'Would I were assur'd
Of my condition.

Cor. O, look upon me, sir,

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:
No, sir, you must not kneel.

Lear. Pray, do not mock me:

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly,

I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks, I should know you, and know this man ;
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night: Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady

To be my child Cordelia.

[1] The allusion is to the forlorn-hope in an army, which are put upon desperate adventures, and called in French enfans perdus ; she therefore calls her father, poor perdu. WARBURTON.

[2] I am strangely imposed on by appearances; I am in a strange mist of aneertainty.

JOHNSON.

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