Kent.

My lord, when at their home I did commend your highness' letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that shew'd My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress, salutations; Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, Which presently they read: on whose contents, They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse;

Commanded me to follow, and attend

The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine,
(Being the very fellow that of late

Display'd so saucily against your highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, drew;
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries:
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.

Fathers, that wear rags,

Do make their children blind;
But fathers, that bear bags,

Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,

Ne'er turns the key to the poor.But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.

Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my

heart!

Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no labouring in the winter. All, that follow their noses, are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the bill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.

That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack, when it begins to rain,

And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:

The knave turns fool, that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool?
Fool. Not i'the stocks, fool.

Re-enter LEAR, with GLOSTer.

Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?

They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches;
The images of revolt and flying off!
Fetch me a better answer.

Glo.

My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the duke; \ How unremoveable and fix'd he is

In his own course.

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! Fiery! what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster, I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.

Glo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them [man? Lear. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, Glo. Ay, my good lord.

80.

Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall, the dear father

Would with his daughter speak, commands her service : [bloodAre they inform'd of this?-My breath and Fiery? the fiery duke ?-Tell the hot duke, that— No, but not yet:-may be, he is not well: Infirmity doth still neglect all office, Whereto our health is bound; we are not oerselves,

(mind
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the
To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit

For the sound man.-Death on my state! where
fore
(Looking on Kent.)
Should he sit here? This act persuades me,
That this remotion of the duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth :
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry-Sleep to death.

[Era.

Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you.
Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart!—but,

down.

! I have to think so: if thou should'st not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepulch'ring an adultress.-O, are you free?

(To Kent.)

Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, bere,-
(Points to his heart.

I can scarce speak to thee; thon'lt not believe,
Of how deprav'd a quality.-O Regan!
Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience; I have hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.

Lear. Say, how is that? Reg. I cannot think, my sister in the least Would fail her obligation: If, sir, perchance, She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My curses on her!
Reg.
O, sir, you are old,
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be rul'd, and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself: Therefore, I pray you.
That to our sister you do make return;
Say, you have wrong'd her, sir.
Lear.
Ask her forgiveness!
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg, (Kneeling.)
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.
Reg. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly
Return you to my sister.
[tricks:

Lear.
She hath abated me of half my train;
Never, Regan:

Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give

Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad;
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
We'll no more meet, no more see one another :--
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil,
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,

In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
Mend when thou canst; be better, at thy leisure:
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I, and my hundred knights.
Reg.

Not altogether so, sir; I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided

thine

Do comfort, and not burn: 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in: thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o'the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.
Reg.

Good sir, to the purpose.
(Trumpets within.)
Lear. Who put my man i'the stocks?
Corn.
What trumpet's that?
Enter Steward.

Reg. I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter,

That she would soon be here.-Is your lady come?
Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows:-
Out, varlet, from my sight!
Corn.
What means your grace?
Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have
good hope
[heavens,
Thou didst not know of't.-Who comes here? O,

Enter GONERIL.

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,
Make it your cause; send down, and take my
part!-

Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?—

(To Goneril.) O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? Gon. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? All's not offence, that indiscretion finds, And dotage terms so. Lear. O, sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold?-How came my man i'the stocks? [ders, Corn. I set him there, sir: but his own disorDeserv'd much less advancement.

Lear. You did you? Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me; I am now from home, and out of that provision, Which shall be needful for your entertainment,

Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o'the air; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,Necessity's sharp pinch!-Return with her? Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took Our youngest born, I could as well be brought To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg To keep base life a-foot:-Return with her? Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter To this detested groom. (Looking on the Steward.) Gon, At your choice, sir.

For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But she knows what she does.

Lear.

Is this well spoken now? Reg. I dare avouch it, sir: What, fifty follow

ers?

Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many? sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one
house,

Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity? 'tis hard; almost impossible.

Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receiveattendance

From those that she calls servants, or from mine? Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd

to slack you,

We could control them: If you will come to me,
To bring but five-and-twenty; to no more
(For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you
Will I give place, or notice.
Lear. I gave you all-

Reg. And in good time you gave it. Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; With such a number: What, must I come to you But kept a reservation to be follow'd With five-and-twenty, Regan? said you so? Reg. And speak it again, my lord: no more with me. [favour'd, Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look wellWhen others are more wicked; not being the worst, Stands in some rank of praise:-I'll go with thee: (To Goneril.)

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,
And thou art twice her love.
Gon.
Hear me, my lord;
What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?

need,

What need one?

[gars

Reg. Lear. O, reason not the need: our basest begAre in the poorest thing superfluous: Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's: thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.-But, for true [need! You heavens, give me that patience, patience I You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief, as age; wretched in both! If it be you, that stir these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger! O, let not women's weapons, water-drops, Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural bags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall-I will do such things,What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep; No, I'll not weep:

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep:-O, fool, I shall go mad!
[Exeunt Lear, Gloster, Kent, and Fool.
Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm.
(Storm heard at a distance.)
Reg.
This house
Is little; the old man and his people cannot
Be well bestow'd.
Gon.
"Tis his own blame; he hath put
Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.
Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
But not one follower.

Gon.

So am I purpos'd. Where is my lord of Gloster?

Re-enter GLOSTER.

Corn. Follow'd the old man forth:-he is return'd.

Glo. The king is in high rage. Corn. Whither is he going? Glo. He calls to horse; but will I know not whither. [self. Corn. "Tis best to give him way; he leads himGon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about There's scarce a bush.

Reg. O, sir, to wilful men, The injuries, that they themselves procure, Must be their schoolmasters: Shut up your doors; He is attended with a desperate train; And what they may incense him to, being apt To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear. Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night;

My Regan counsels well: come out o'the storm.

ACT III.

SCENE I-A Heath.

[Exeunt.

A storm is heard, with thunder and lightning. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting:

Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

Kent. I know you; where's the king?
Gent. Contending with the fretful element:
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curved waters 'bove the main,
That things might change, or cease; tears his white
hair;

Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of:
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would
couch,

The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all.

Gent. None but the fool; who labours to outjest His heart-struck injuries.

Kent.

Sir, I do know you;
And dare, upon the warrant of my art,
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,
Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
Who have (as who have not, that their great stars
Thron'd and set high?) servants who seem no less;
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes;

Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings;-
But, true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet'

For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains: If you shall see Cordelia,
(As fear not but you shall,) shew her this ring;
And she will tell you who your fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fy on on this storm!
I will go seek the king.
[say!
Gent. Give me your hand: Have you no more to
Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all

yet;

[pain That when we have found the king, (in which rout That way; I'll this;) he, that first lights on him. Holla the other. [Exeunt severally.

you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking therder,

Strike flat the thick rotundity o'the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once, That make ingrateful man!]

Good

Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o'door. nuncle, in, and ask thy daughter's blessing; here s a night pities neither wise men nor fools.

Lear. Rumble thy belly-full! Spit, fire! sport, rain!

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness,
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription; why then let fall
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man :-
But yet I call you servile ministers,

That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!

Fool. He, that has a house to put his head in, has a good head-piece.

The cod-piece that will house,
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse!-
So beggars marry many.

The man that makes his toe What he his heart should make, Shall of a corn cry woe, And turn his sleep to wake. -for there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths in a glass.

Enter KENT.

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience, I will say nothing.

Kent. Who's there?

r

L

L

1

は

Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry The affliction, nor the fear.

Lear.

Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That hast within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand; Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue, That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake, That under covert and convenient seeming Hast practis'd on man's life:-Close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents, and cry These dreadful summoners grace.—I am a man, More sinn'd against, than sinning. Kent.

Alack, bare-headed! Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest; Repose you there: while I to this hard house, (More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd; Which even but now, demanding after you, Denied me to come in,) return, and force Their scanted courtesy.

Lear.

My wits begin to turn.Come on, my boy: How dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange, [hovel. That can make vile things precious. Come, your Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee.

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit,

With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain,— Must make content with his fortunes fit; For the rain it raineth every day. Lear. True, my good boy.-Come, bring us to [Exeunt Lear and Kent. Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.I'll speak a prophecy e'er I go:

this hovel.

When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors:
When every case in law is right;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;

When usurers tell their gold i'the field;

And bawds and whores do churches build;

Then shall the realm of Albion

Come to great confusion.

Then comes the time, who lives to see't,

That going shall be us'd with feet.

This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before

his time.

[Exit.

SCENE III-A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter GLOSTER and EDMUND.

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing: When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.

-Edm. Most savage and unnatural!

Glo. Go to; say you nothing: There is division between the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have received a letter this night;-'tis dangerous to be spoken;-I have locked the letter in my closet: these injuries the king now bears will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed: we must incline to the king. I will seek him, and privily relieve him: go you, and maintain talk with the duke, that my charity be not of bim perceived: If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the king my old master must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. Exit. Edm. This courtesy forbid thee, shall the duke

Instantly know; and of that letter too :-
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses; no less than all:
The younger rises, when the old doth fall. [Exit.
SCENE IV-A part of the Heath, with a Hovel.
Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool.

Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord,

enter:

The tyranny of the open night's too rough For nature to endure.

Lear.

Kent. Good my lord, Lear.

Kent. I'd rather break

enter.

Let me alone.

(Storm still.)

enter here.

Wilt break my heart? mine own: Good my lord, [tious storm.

Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contenBut where the greater malady is fix'd, Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;.

The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear:
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the
mind's free,

The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there.-Filial ingratitude!

Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
For lifting food to't?-But I will punish home:-
To shut me out!-Pour on; I will endure:-
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,-
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that,-

Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.
Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own

ease;

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more-But I'll go in :
In, boy; go first.-(To the Fool.) You houseless
poverty,-

Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
(Fool goes in.)
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel;
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And shew the heavens more just.

Edg. (Within.) Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!

(The Fool runs out from the hovel.) Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, help me!

Kent. Give me thy hand.-Who's there? Fool. A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor Tom. [i'the straw? Kent What art thou that dost grumble there Come forth.

Enter EDGAR, disguised as a madman. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me!Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters? And art thou come to this?

Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trottinghorse over four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor:-Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold.-O, do de, do de, do de.-Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend yexes:

There could I have him now,-and there,-and there, and there again, and there. (Storm continues.) Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?[all? Could'st thou save nothing! Did'st thou give them Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. [air Lear. Now, all the plagues, that in the pendulous Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters! Kent. He hath no daughters, sir.

Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd nature

To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.-
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers

Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.

Edg. Pillicock sat on pillicock's-hill ;-
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!

Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen..

Edg. Take heed o'the foul fiend: Obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array: Tom's a-cold.

Lear. What hast thou been?

-Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress's heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that slept in the contriving of last, and waked to do it: Wine loved I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramoured the Turk: False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; Hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to women: Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: Says suum mun, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa; let him trot by. (Storm still continues.) Lear. Why, thou were better in thy grave, than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.-Is man no more than this? Consider him well: Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume:-Ha! here's three of us are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.-Off, off, you lendings:-Come; unbutton here.(Tearing off his clothes.) Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; this is a naughty night to swim in.-Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the rest of his body cold.-Look, here comes a walking fire.

Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.

Saint Withold footed thrice the wold;
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
Bid her alight,

And her troth plight,

And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

Kent. How fares your grace?

Enter GLOSTER, with a torch. Lear. What's he?

Kent. Who's there? What is't you seek? Glo. What are you there? Your names? Edg. Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows

Glo. What, hath your grace no better company! Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman; Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.

[vile, Glo. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.

Glo. Go in with me; my daty cannot suffer To obey in all your daughters' hard commands: Though their injunction be to bar my doors. And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you; Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out, And bring you where both fire and food is ready. Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher:What is the cause of thunder?

Kent. Good my lord, take his offer ; Go into the house. [Theban:Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned What is your study?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermis. Lear. Let me ask you one word in private. Kent. Impórtane him once more to go, my lord, His wits begin to unsettle. Glo. Can'st thou blame him? His daughters seek his death:-Ah, that good Kent!He said it would be thus :-Poor banish'd man!— Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, I am almost mad myself: I had a son, Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life, But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,No father his son dearer: true to tell thee,

(Storm continues.) The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's

this!

Glo. Take him you on.

Kent, Sirrah, come on; go along with us. Lear. Come, good Athenian.

No words, no words:

Glo. Hush. Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came, His word was still,- Fie, foh, and fum, I smell the blood of a British man. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter CORNWALL and EDMUND. Corn. I will have my revenge, ere I depart his house.

Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of.

Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your brother's evil disposition made him seek his death; but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself.

Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I mest repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the