Puslapio vaizdai

drinks the green mantle of the ftanding pool; who is whipt from tything to tything, and ftock-punifh'd, and imprifon'd: who hath had,three fuits to his back, fix fhirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear:

But mice, and rats, and fuch fmall 'geer`
Have been Tom's food for feven long year;

Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin, peace, thou fiend!
Glo. What, hath your Grace no better company?
Edg. The Prince of darkness is a gentleman, Modo he's
call'd, and Mabu.

Glo. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is grown fo vile, That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg. Tom's a-cold.

Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot fuffer
T'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 feek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food are ready,
Lear. First let me talk with this philofopher;
What is the cause of thunder?

Kent. My good Lord, take his offer,

Go into th' house.

Lear. I'll talk a word with this fame learned Theban: What is your study?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
Lear. Let us ask you one word in private.

Kent. Importune him to go, my Lord,

His wits begin t' unfettle.

Glo. Can'ft thou blame him?

[Storm Atill.

His daughters feek his death: ah, that good Kent!

He faid it would be thus; poor banish'd man!

Thou fay'ft the King grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, I'm almoft mad my felf; I had a fon,

Now out-law'd from my blood, he fought my life

But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,

3 deer 4 is


No father his fon dearer: true to tell thee,

The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this!
I do befeech your Grace.

Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:

Noble philofopher, your company.
Edg. Tom's a-cold.

Glo. In, fellow, into th' hovel; keep thee warm.
Lear. Come, let's in all.

Kent. This way, my Lord.

Lear. With him;

I will keep ftill with my philofopher.


Kent. Good my Lord, footh him; let him take the fel

Glo. Take him you on.

Kent. Sirrah, come on; along with us.

Lear. Come, good Athenian.

Glo. No words, no words, hush.


a Child Rowland to the dark tower came,

His word was ftill, fie, foh, and fum,

I fmell the blood of a British man.


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Corn. Will have revenge, ere I depart this house. Baft. How, my Lord, I may be cenfur'd, that nature thus gives way to loyalty; fomething fears me to think of.

Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your brother's evil difpofition made him feek his death: but a + 'provoked

(a) The fables of such a turn as that from which thefe lines are quoted being generally taken from books of Spanish Chivalry, it is probable the word flood there Infante Orlando for which the tranflatour ignorantly put Child Rowland: whereas Infante meant a Prince, one of the King's fons. Warburton.

provoked 'fpirit fet a-work by a reprovable badnels in 'bim.`

Baft. How malicious is my fortune, that I muft repent to be juft! this is the letter which he fpoke of; which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. Oh heav'ns! that this treafon were not; or not I the detector! Corn. Go with me to the Dutchefs.

Baft. If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.

Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Glo'fter: feek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehenfion.

Bast. If I find him comforting the King, it will ftuff his fufpicion more fully. [Afide.] I will perfevere in my courfe of loyalty, though the conflict be fore between that and my blood. Corn. I will lay truft upon thee; and thou fhalt find a dearer father in my love.



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Glo. HEre is better than the open air, take it thankfully: I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can; I will not be long from you. [Exit. Kent. All the pow'r of his wits has given way to his impatience: the Gods reward your kindness!

Enter Lear, Edgar, and Fool.

Edg. Fraterrato calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness: pray innocent, and beware the foul fiend.

Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a madman be a gentleman, or a yeoman?



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Lear. A King, a King.

Fool. No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his fon: for he's a yeoman that fees his fon a gentleman before him.

Lear. To have a thousand with red burning fpits

Come hizzing in upon 'em.

Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.

Fool. He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, the health of a horse, the love of a boy, or the oath of a whore.

Lear. It fhall be done, I will arraign 'em ftrait. Come, fit thou here, most learned jufticer, [To the Fool. Thou fapient Sir, fit here now, ye the foxes!

[To Edgar. Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herrings. Croak not, black angel, I have no food for thee.

Ledr. I'll fee their tryal, bring me in the evidence. Thou robed man of juftice, take thy place,

And thou his yoke-fellow of equity,

Bench by his fide. You are of the commiffion,
Sit you too. Arraign her first, 'tis Gonerill,

Fool. Come hither, Miftrefs, is your name Gonerill?
Lear. She can't deny it.

Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a Joint-ftool.
Lear. And here's another whofe warpt looks proclaim
What store her heart is made of. Stop her there.
Arms, arms, fword, fire, corruption's` in the place:
Falfe jufticer, why haft thou let her 'fcape?

Edg. 'Blefs thy five wits!

Kent. O pity! Sir, where is the patience now,

That you fo oft have boafted to retain ?

Edg. My tears begin to take his part fo much,

They mar my counterfeiting.

Lear. The little dogs and all,

Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart; see, they bark at me



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Edg. Tom will throw his head at them; avaunt, you Be thy mouth or black or white,

Tooth that poisons if it bite;

Maftiff, grey-hound, mungril grim,
Hound or spaniel, brache, or lym;
Or bob-tail tike, or trundle-tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail:
For with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.


Do, de, de, de: Seffey, come, march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns; poor Tom, thy horn is dry.
Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan

fee what breeds about her heart Is there any caufe in nature that makes thefe hard hearts? You, Sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will fay they are Perfian; but let them be chang'd.

Re-enter Glo❜fter.

Kent. Now, good my Lord, lye here, and reft a while. Lear. Make no noife, make no noife, draw the curtains; So, fo, we'll go to fupper i'th' morning.

Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon.

Glo. Come hither, friend, where is the King, my master ? Kent. Here, Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gone. Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee, take him in thy arms; I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him:

There is a litter ready, lay him in't,

And drive tow'rd Dover, friend, where thou fhalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy mafter.
If thou should'ft dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in affured lofs. Take up, take up,
And follow me, that will to fome provision
Give thee quick conduct. Come, away, away.


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