IV. vi. 180 Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt, Lear. If thou wilt weepe my Fortunes, take my eyes. Lear. When we are borne, we cry that we are come A Troope of Horse with Felt: Ile put't in proofe, 190 And when I haue ftolne vpon these Son in Lawes, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. Enter a Gentleman. Gent. Oh heere he is: lay hand vpon him, Sir. Lear. No refcue? What, a Prifoner? I am euen You fhall haue ranfome. Let me haue Surgeons, I am cut to'th'Braines. Gent. You fhall haue any thing. Lear. No Seconds? All my felfe? Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt 200 To vse his eyes for Garden water-pots. I wil die brauely, 210 Gent. A fight most pittifull in the meanest wretch, Edg. Haile gentle Sir. Gent. Sir, speed you: what's your will? Edg. Do you heare ought (Sir) of a Battell toward. Euery one heares that, which can diftinguifh found. How neere's the other Army? Gent. Neere, and on speedy foot: the maine defcry Exit. IV. vi. Edg. I thanke you fir thats all. Gent. Though that the Queene on fpeciall cause is here, 220 Hir army is moued on. 230 Gloft. You euer gentle gods take my breath from me, To dye before you please. Edg. Well, pray you father. Gloft. Now good fir what are you. Edg. A moft poore man made lame by Fortunes blowes, Who by the Art of knowne and feeling forrowes Am pregnant to good pitty, giue me your hand Ile leade you to fome biding. Exit. Gloft. Hartie thankes, the bornet and beniz of heauen to [67 faue thee. Enter Steward. 240 250 Stew. A proclamed prize, most happy, that eyles head of thine was framed flesh to rayse my fortunes, thou most vnhappy traytor, briefly thy felfe remember, the fword is out that muft destroy thee. Gloft. Now let thy friendly hand put strength enough to't. Stew. VVherefore bould pefant durft thou fupport a publifht traytor, hence least the infection of his fortune take like hold on thee, let goe his arme? Edg. Chill not let goe fir without cagion. Stew. Let goe flaue, or thou dieft. Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, let poore voke passe, and chud haue beene fwaggar'd out of my life, it would not haue beene fo long by a fortnight, nay come not neare the old man, keepe out, cheuore ye, or ile trie whether your cofter or my battero be the harder, ile be plaine with you. Stew. Out dunghill. they fight. Edg. Chill pick your teeth fir, come, no matter for your foyns. Stew. Slaue thou haft flaine me, villaine take my purffe, If euer thou wilt thriue, burie my bodie, And giue the letters which thou find'ft about me IV. vi. Edg. I thanke you Sir, that's all. Gent. Though that the Queen on fpecial caufe is here Exit. Glou. You euer gentle Gods, take my breath from me, To dye before you please. Edg. Well pray you Father. Glou. Now good fir, what are you? Edg. A moft poore man, made tame to Fortunes blows Am pregnant to good pitty. Giue me your hand, Ile leade you to fome biding. Glou. Heartie thankes: The bountie, and the benizon of Heauen 230 To boot, and boot. 240 250 Enter Steward. Stew. A proclaim'd prize: most happie That eyeleffe head of thine, was firft fram'd flesh Glou. Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough too't. Stew. Wherefore, bold Pezant, Dar'ft thou fupport a publifh'd Traitor? Hence, Like hold on thee. Let go his arme. Edg. Chill not let go Zir, Without vurther 'cafion. Stew. Let go Slaue, or thou dy'st. Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, and let poore volke paffe: and 'chud ha' bin zwaggerd out of my life, 'twould not ha'bin zo long as 'tis, by a vortnight. Nay, come not neere th'old man: keepe out che vor'ye, or ice try whither your Coftard, or my Ballow be the harder; chill be plaine with you. Stew. Out Dunghill. Edg. Chill picke your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor Stew. Slaue thou haft flaine me: Villain, take my purfe; And giue the Letters which thou find'st about me, [304b IV. vi. 260 To Edmund Earle of Gloster, feeke him out vpon He dies. Edg. I know thee well, a feruiceable villaine, Gloft. What is he dead? Edg. Sit you down father, reft you lets fee his pockets Let your reciprocall vowes bee remembred, you haue many opportunities to cut him off, if your will want not, time and place 270 will be fruitfully offered, there is nothing done, If he returne the conqu rour, then am I the prifoner, and his bed my gayle, from the lothed warmth whereof deliuer me, and fupply the place for your labour, your wife (fo I would fay) your affectionate feruant [68 and for you her owne for Venter, Gonorill. 280 Edg. O Indiftinguifht space of womans wit, A plot vpon her vertuous husbands life, And the exchange my brother heere in the fands, Of murtherous leachers, and in the mature time, Of the death practif'd Duke, for him tis well, That of thy death and businesse I can tell. Gloft. The King is mad, how ftiffe is my vild fence, That I ftand vp and haue ingenious feeling Of my huge forowes, better I were distract, So fhould my thoughts be fenced from my griefes, 290 And woes by wrong imaginations loofe The knowledge of them felues. A drum a farre off. Edg. Giue me your hand far off me thinks I heare the beaten (drum, IV. vi. 260 As badneffe would defire. Glou. What, is he dead? Edg. Sit you downe Father; reft you. Let's fee thefe Pockets; the Letters that he fpeakes of Leaue gentle waxe, and manners: blame vs not L Reads the Letter. Et our reciprocall vowes be remembred. You haue manie opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and 270 place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done. If hee returne the Conqueror, then am I the Prisoner, and his bed, my Gaole, from the loathed warmth whereof, deliuer me, and Supply the place for your Labour. 280 Your (Wife, so I would say) affectio- Oh indinguifh'd fpace of Womans will, A plot vpon her vertuous Husbands life, Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time, How ftiffe is my vilde fenfe That I ftand vp, and haue ingenious feeling Of my huge Sorrowes? Better I were distract, So fhould my thoughts be feuer'd from my greefes, Drum afarre off. [305a Edg. Giue me your hand: Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten Drumme. Come Father, Ile bestow you with a Friend, Exeunt. |