Cor.

Be better suited:

These weeds are memories cf those worser hours:

I prithee, put them off.

Kent. Pardon me, dear madam ; Yet to be known shortens my made intent: My boon I make it that you know me not Till time and I think meet.

Cor. Then be't so, my good lord. [To the Doctor.] How does the king?

Doct. Madam, sleeps still.

Cor. O you kind gods,

Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untuned and jarring senses, O! wind up
Of this child-changed father.

Doct.
So please your majesty
That we may wake the king? he hath slept long.
Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and pro-

ceed

I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?

Enter LEAR in a chair carried by Servants. Doct. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of sleep We put fresh garments on him.

Kent. Be by, good madam, when we do awake

him;

I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor.

Very well. [Music.
Louder the

Doct. Please you, draw near.

music there!

Cor. O my dear father! Restoration hang Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss Repair those violent harms that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made!

Kent.

Kind and dear princess!

Cor. Had you not been their father, these white flakes

Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face
To be opposed against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick cross lightning? to watch, poor perdu !
With this thin helm ? Mine enemy's dog,

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night

Against my fire. And wast thou fain, poor

father,

To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack !
"T is wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to

him.

Doct. Madam, do you; 't is fittest.

Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty ?

Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' the

grave;

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.

Cor.

Sir, do you know me?

Lear. You are a spirit, I know; when did you die?

Cor. Still, still, far wide.

Doct. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile. Lear. Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?

I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with

pity

To see another thus.
I will not swear these
I feel this pin prick.
Of my condition !
Cor.

I know not what to say. are my hands: let's see; Would I were assured

O! look upon me, sir,

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me.
No, sir, you must not kneel.

Lear.

Pray, do not mock me:

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor

less;

And, to deal plainly,

I fear I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks I should know you and know this

man;

Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant What place this is, and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know

not

Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at

me;

For, as I am a man, I think this lady

To be my child Cordelia.

Cor.

And so I am, I am.

Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray, weep not:

If you have poison for me, I will drink it.

I know you do not love

me; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong: You have some cause, they have not.

Cor.

No cause, no cause.

Lear. Am I in France ?
Kent.

In your own kingdom, sir.

Lear. Do not abuse me.

Doct. Be comforted, good madam; the great rage, You see, is kill'd in him; and yet it is danger To make him even o'er the time he has lost. Desire him to go in; trouble him no more Till further settling.

Cor. Will't please your highness walk? Lear. You must bear with me. Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

[Exeunt LEAR, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Attendants. Gent. Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?

Kent. Most certain, sir.

Gent. Who is conductor of his people?

Kent. As 't is said, the bastard son of Gloucester.

Gent. They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.

Kent. Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the powers of the kingdom approach

apace.

Gent. The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you well, sir.

[Exit. Kent. My point and period will be throughly wrought,

Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought. [Exit.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The British Camp near Dover.

Enter, with drum and colours, Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers, and others.

Edm. Know of the duke if his last purpose hold, Or whether since he is advised by aught

To change the course; he's full of alteration And self-reproving; bring his constant pleasure.

[To an Officer, who goes out. Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. Edm. 'Tis to be doubted, madam.

Reg. Now, sweet lord, You know the goodness I intend upon you: Tell me, but truly, but then speak the truth, Do you not love my sister?

Edm.

In honour'd love.

Reg. But have you never found my brother's

way

To the forfended place?

Edm.

That thought abuses you. Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. Edm. No, by mine honour, madam.

Reg. I never shall endure her: dear my lord, Be not familiar with her.

Edm.

Fear me not.

She and the duke her husband!

Enter, with drum and colours, ALBANY, GONERIL, and Soldiers.