« السابقةمتابعة »
SCENE 1.-Before the DUKE OF ALBANY's Castle.
Enter GONERIL, EDMUND and OSWALD.
VACK, Edmund, to my brother ;
Hasten his musters and conduct his
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant Shall pass between us. Wear this; spare speech; Decline your head; this kiss if it durst speak Would stretch thy spirits up into the air !
[Giving a favour. Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edm. Yours in the ranks of death. Gon. My most dear Gloster! [Exit EDMUND. O, the difference of man and man! Osw. Madam, here comes my lord. [Exit.
Enter ALBANY. Alb.
0, Goneril You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.
No more. Alb.
What have you done ? Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd ? A father, and a gracious agèd man, Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
Gon. Milk-liver'd man! Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honour from thy suffering; where's thy
drum ? France spreads his banners in our noiseless land; Whiles thou, a moral fool, sitt'st still, and criest “Alack, why does he so ?” А Іь.
See thyself, devil ! Gon. O, vain fool!
Curan. O my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's
Gloster's eyes !
remorse, Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword To his great master: who, thereat enrag'd, Flew on him, and amongst them felld him
dead. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; Tis from your sister. Gon. I'll read, and answer. Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his
eyes ? Curan. Come with my lady, hither. Alb. He is not here?
Curan. No, my good lord; I met him back again.
against him. Alb.
Gloster, I live And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend : Tell me what more thou know'st.
SCENE 2.- Open Country.
Edgar. FrET better thus, and known to be contemn'd, Ne Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be I worst, The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear. Welcome, then, Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace ! The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst Owes nothing to thy blasts.—But who comes here?
Enter GLOSTER, led by an Old Man. My father, poorly led ?-World, world, O world ! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age. Old Man.
O, my good lord, I've been your tenant, and your father's tenant, These fourscore years. Glo. Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone. Old Man. Alack sir, you cannot see your way.
Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; I stumbled when I saw: Ah ! dear son Edgar, Might I but live to see thee in my touch, I'd say I had eyes again!
How now! Who's there? Edg. (A side.] O gods! Who is't can say, “ I'm
at the worst” ? I'm worse than e'er I was. Old Man,
'Tis poor mad Tom. Glo.
Is it a beggar-man ? Old Man. Madman and beggar too.
Glo. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I'the last night's storm I such a fellow saw; Which made me think a man a worm. Edg. [Aside.]
Bless thee, master!
Ay, my lord.
Alack, sir, he is mad. Glo. Do as I bid thee; above the rest, be gone.
Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, Come on't what will.
Exit. Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow,Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.— [Aside.] I cannot
daub it further. Glo. Come hither, fellow. Edg. [Aside.] And yet I must. Bless thy
sweet eyes ! Glo. Dost thou know Dover ? Edg. Ay, master.
Glo. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully in the confinèd deep : Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear With something rich about me: from that place I shall no leading need.
Give me thy arm : Poor Tom shall lead thee.
SCENE 3.-Country near Dover.
Enter GLOSTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant.
H EN shall I come to the top of that same
Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.
Glo. Methinks the ground is even,
No, truly. Edg. Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. Glo.
So may it be, indeed : Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st In better phrase and matter than thou didst. Edg. You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I
chang'd But in my garments. Glo.
Methinks you're better spoken. Edg. Come on, sir : here's the place :-stand still.
-How fearful. And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire,- dreadful trade ! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice: the murmuring surge That on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high.—I'll look no more ;