fhall no leading need.

Edg. Give me thy arm;

Poor Tom fhall lead thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The Duke of Albany's Palace.

Enter Gonerill and Bastard.

Gon. Welcome, my Lord. I marvel our mild busband Not met us on the way.

Enter Steward.

Now, where's your mafter?

Stew. Madam, within; but never man fo chang'd; I told him of the army that was landed;

He fmil'd at it. I told him you were coming,

His answer was, the worse,

Of Glofter's treachery
And of the loyal fervice of his fon

When I inform'd him, then he call'd me fot,
And told me I had turn'd the wrong fide out.

What most he should diflike, feems pleafant to him;
What like, offenfive.

Gon. Then fhall you go no further.

It is the cowith terror of his fpirit

[To Edmund.

That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs
Which tie him to an answer; that our wishes

On th' way may prove effects, back, to my brother,
Haften his mufters, and conduct his powers.
I must change arms at home, and give the diftaff
Into my husband's hands. This trufty fervant
Shall pass between us: you ere long fhall hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,

A mistress's command. Wear this; [Gives him a ring.] fpare fpeech;

Decline your head, this kifs, if it durft speak,
Would ftretch thy fpirits up into the air:

Conceive, and fare thee well.

Baft. Yours in the ranks of death.

Gon. My most dear Glo'fter!

[Exit Baftard.

Oh, the ftrange difference of man, and man!

To thee a woman's fervices are due,

My, fool ufurps my body.

Stew, Madam, here comes my Lord.

03

Enter Albany.

Gon. I have been worth the whistle.

Alb. Oh Gonerill,

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind.
Blows in your face. I fear your difpofition.

That nature which contemns its origine,
Cannot be border'd certain in itself;

She that herself will fliver and dif-branch
From her maternal fap, perforce must wither,
And come to deadly use.

Gon. No more, 'tis foolish.

Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
Tygers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,

Moft barb'rous, moft degen'rate, have you madded.
Cou'd my good brother fuffer you to do it,
A man, a Prince by him fo benefited?
If that the heav'ns do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame the vile offences,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself
Like monsters of the deep.

Gon. Milk-liver'd man!

That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who haft not in thy brows an eye difcerning
Thine honour, from thy fuffering: that not know'ft
Fools do thofe villains pity who are punish'd

Ere they have done their mifchief. Where's thy drum ?
France fpreads her banners in our noifeless land,
With plumed helm the flayer begins his threats:
Whilft thou, a moral fool, fit'ft ftill and cry'st
Alack! why does he fo?

Alb. See thyfelf, devil:

Proper deformity feems not in the fiend

So horrid as in woman.

Gon. Oh vain fool!

Enter a Meffenger.

14

Mef. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead. Slain by his fervant, going to put out

The other eye of Glo'fter

Alb, Glofter's eyes?

Maf

Mef. A fervant that he bred, thrill'd with remorfe, Oppos'd against the act; bending his fword

To his great mafter: who thereat enrag'd,

Flew on him; they amongst them fell'd him dead,
But not without that harmful froke which fince
Hath pluck'd him after.

Alb. This fhews you are above,

You Juftices, that these our nether crimes
So fpeedily can venge. But O poor Glo'fter!
Loft he his other eye?

Mef. Both, both, my Lord.

This letter, Madam, craves a fpeedy answer: 'Tis from your fifter.

Gon. One way I like this well;

But being widow, and my Glo'fter with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck

Upon my hateful life. Another way

The news is not fo tart. I'll read, and answer. [Exit. Alb. Where was his fon, when they did take his eyes? Mef. Come with my Lady hither.

Alb. He's not here.

Mef. No, my good Lord, I met him back again.

Alb. Knows he the wickedness?

Mef Ay, my good Lord, 'twas he inform'd against him, And quit the house of purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course.

Alb. Glofter, I live

To thank thee for the love thou fhew'dft the King,
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,
Tell me what more thou know'ft.

SCENE III. Dover.

Enter Kent and a Gentleman.

[Exeunt.

Kent. The King of France fo fuddenly gone back!
Know you the reafon ?

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state,
Which fince his coming forth is thought of, which
Imports the Kingdom fo much fear and danger,
That his return was moft requir'd and neceffary.
Kent. Who hath he left behind him General ?
Gent. The Marefchal of France, Monfieur le Far.

Kent.

Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonftration of grief?

Gent. I, Sir, fhe took 'em, read 'em in my prefence, And now and then an ample tear trill'd down

Her delicate cheek: it feem'd fhe was a Queen
Over her paffion, which most rebel-like
Sought to be King o'er her.

Kent. O, then it mov'd her.

Gent. But not to rage. Patience and forrow ftrove
Which fhould exprefs her goodlieft; you have seen
Sun-fhine and rain at once. Thofe happy fmiles
That play'd on her ripe lip, feem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence,
As perils from diamonds dropt-in brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd,

If all could fo become it.

Kent. Made fhe no verbal quefts?

Gent. Yes, once or twice fhe heav'd the name of Father Pantingly forth, as if it preft her heart.

Cry'd, fifters! fifters! what? i'th' ftorm of night?
Let Pity ne'er believe it! there she shook
The holy water from her heav'nly eyes,
And then retir'd, to deal with grief alone.

Kent. The stars above us govern our conditions :
Elfe one felf-mate and mate could not beget
Such diff'rent iffues. Spoke you with her fince?
Gent. No.

Kent. Was this before the King return'd?
Gent. No, fince.

Kent. The poor diftreffed Lear is in town,
Who fometimes in his better tune remembers
What we are come about, and by no means
Will yield to fee his daughter.

Gent. Why, good Sir?

Kent. A fov'reign fhame fo bows him : his unkindness, That ftript her from his benediction, turn'd her

To foreign cafualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters; these things fting him
So venomously, that burning fhame detains him
From his Cordelia.

ent.

Gent. Alack poor gentleman!

3 Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's pow'rs you heard not?

Gent. 'Tis fo, they are a-foot.

Kent. Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our mafter Lear, And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up a while: When I am known aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Camp.

Enter Cordelia, Phyfician and Soldiers.

Cor. Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now
As mad as the vext fea, finging aloud,

Crown'd with rank fumitory, and furrow-weeds,
With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckow-flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our fuftaining corn. Send forth a cent'ry,
Search every acre in the high-grown field,

And bring him to our eye. What can man's wifdem
In the restoring his bereaved fense?

He that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phyf. There are means, Madam :

Our fofter nurse of nature is repofe,

The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many fimples operative, whofe power
Will clofe the eye of anguish,

Cor. All bleft fecrets,

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediate
In the good man's diftrefs! feek, feek for him,
Left his ungovern'd rage diffolve the life

That wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. News, Madam:

The British pow'rs are marching hitherward.
Cor. is known before. Our preparation ftands.
In expectation of them. O dear father,

It is thy bufinefs that I go about:

Therefore great France my important tears hath pitied. No blown ambition doth our arms incite.

But