Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night?
Let pity not be believ'd!"

- There she shook

The holy water from her heavenly eyes,

And clamour moisten'd: then away she started
To deal with grief alone.

The stars above us, govern our conditions;
Else one self mate and mate could not beget

Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?
Gent. No.

Kent. Was this before the king return'd?

Gent.

No,

since.

Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressèd Lear's i' the town; Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers

What we are come about, and by no means

Will yield to see his daughter.

Gent.

Why, good sir?

Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,

That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her

To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting
His mind so venomously, that burning shame
Detains him from Cordelia.

Gent.

Alack, poor gentleman!

Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not?

Gent. "Tis so they are a-foot.

Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him: some dear cause
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
Along with me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. A tent.

Enter CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers.

Cor. Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud;

Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow

In our sustaining corn.

A century send forth;

Search every acre in the high-grown field, And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.] man's wisdom

In the restoring his bereavèd sense?

He that helps him take all my outward worth.
Doct. There is means, madam:

Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,

The which he lacks; that to provoke in him
Are many simples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.

Cor.

All bless'd secrets,

Seek, seek for him;

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate

In the good man's distress!

Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it.

Mess.

Enter a Messenger.

News, madam;

The British powers are marching hitherward.

Cor. 'Tis known before; our preparation stands In expectation of them. O dear father,

It is thy business that I go about;

Therefore great France

My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,

But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear and see him!

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. A room in GLOSTER's castle.

Enter REGAN and OSWALD.

Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth?
Osw.

Reg. Himself in person there?
Osw.

Your sister is the better soldier.

Ay, madam.

Madam, with much ado:

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?
Osw. No, madam.

Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him?
Osw. I know not, lady.

Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.

It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out,
To let him live: where he arrives he moves

All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his misery, to dispatch

His nighted life; moreover, to descry

The strength o' the enemy.

Osw. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us; The ways are dangerous.

Osw.

I may not, madam:

My lady charg'd my duty in this business.

Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you Transport her purposes by word? Belike,

Something I know not what: - I'll love thee much,
Let me unseal the letter.

Osw.

-

Madam, I had rather
Reg. I know your lady does not love her husband;
I'm sure of that: and at her late being here
She gave strange œilliads and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.
Osw. I, madam?

Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I know't:
Therefore I do advise you, take this note:
My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;

If you do find him, pray you, give him this;

And when your mistress hears thus much from you, desire her call her wisdom to her.

I pray,

So,

fare you well.

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,

Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

Osw. Would I could meet him, madam! I would show What party I do follow.

Reg.

Fare thee well.

SCENE VI. The country near Dover.

[Exeunt.

Enter GLOSTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant. Glo. When shall I come to the top of that same hill? Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. Glo. Methinks the ground is even.

Edg.

Hark, do you hear the sea?

Glo.

Horrible steep.

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; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock, her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

Glo.

Set me where you stand. Edg. Give me your hand: - you're now within a foot Of th' extreme verge: for all beneath the moon

Would I not leap upright.

Glo.

Let go my hand.
Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel

Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off;

Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Edg. Now fare you well, good sir.
Glo.

With all my

heart.

Edg. [aside] Why I do trifle thus with his despair Is done to cure it.

Glo. [kneeling] O you mighty gods!

This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and loathed part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!·
Now, fellow, fare thee well.

Edg.

Gone, sir:

farewell.

[Gloster throws himself forward, and falls.

[Aside] And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself

Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought,
By this had thought been past.

Ho you, sir! friend!
[Aside] Thus might he
What are you, sir?

--

Alive or dead?

Hear you, sir!

speak!

pass

indeed: yet he revives. ·