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Old M.

Alack, sir, he's mad. Glo. 'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the

blind : Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure; Above the rest, be gone.

Old M. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, Come on't what will.

[Exit. Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow. Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.— I cannot daub it farther.

[Aside. Glo. Come hither, fellow. Edg. [Aside] And yet I must.— Bless thy sweet eyes,

they bleed. Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover?

Edg: Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: Bless the good man from the foul fiend! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since possesses chamber-maids and waitingwomen. So, bless thee, master! Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the heaven's

plagues Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched, Makes thee the happier :-Heavens, deal so still! Let the superfluous, and last-dieted man, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly; So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough.—Dost thou know Dover?

Edg. Ay, master.

Gló. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully in the confined deep: Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear, With something rich about me: from that place I shall no leading need. Edg:

Give me thy arm; Poor Tom shall lead thee.


SCENE 11. Before the Duke of ALBANY's Palace. Enter GONERIL and EDMUND; STEWARD meeting

them. Gon. Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our mild hus

band Not met us on the way:-Now, where's your master?

Stew. Madam, within; but never man so chang'd: I told him of the army that was landed; He smild at it: I told him, you were coming;, His answer was, The worse : of Gloster's treachery, And of the loyal service of his son, When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot; And told me, I had turn’d the wrong side out:What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him; What like, offensive. Gon.

Then shall you go no further.

[To Edmund. It is the cowish terror of his spirit, That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs, Which tie him to an answer: Our wishes, on the way, May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother; Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers : I must change arms at home, and give the distaff Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant Shall pass between us : ere long you are like to hear, If

you dare venture in your own behalf, A mistresses command. Wear this, spare speech;

[Giving a Favour.
Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air ;-
Conceive, and fare thee welf.

Edm. Yours in the ranks of death.

My inost dear Gloster!

[Exit Edmund. 0, the difference of man, and man! To thee A woman's services are due; my fool Usurps my bed. Stew. Madam, here comes my lord.

(Exit Steward,

Enter ALBANY. Gon. I have been worth the whistle. Alb. .

O Goneril! You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.- I fear your disposition : That nature, which contemns its origin, Cannot be border'd certain in itself; She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither, And come to deadly use.

Gon. No more; the text is foolish. Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform’d? A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded. Could my good brother suffer you to do it? A man, a prince, by him so benefited ? If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep. Gon.

Milk-Jiver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st,
Fools do those villains pity, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land :
With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cry'st,
Aluck! why does he so?

See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid, as in woman.

O vain fool !
Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,
Be-monster not thy feature. Were it my fitness

'Twill come,

To let these hands obey my blood,
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones :—Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's shape doth shield thee.
Gon. Marry, your manhood now!—

Enter a Messenger.
Alb. What news?

Mess. O, my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's dead; Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloster. Alb.

Gloster's eyes! Mess. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword To his great master; who, thereat enrag’d, Flew on him, and amongst them felld him dead : But not without that harmful stroke, which since Hath pluck'd him after. Alb.

This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes So speedily can venge!-But, O poor Gloster! Lost he bis other eye? Mess.

Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; 'Tis from your sister.

Gon. [Aside] One way I like this well;
But being widow, and my Gloster with her
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life: Another way,
The news is not so lart.-—I'll read, and answer. [Exit.

Alb. Where was bis son, when they did take his eyes?
Mess. Come with my lady hither.

He is not here. Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back again. Alb. Knows he the wickedness?

Mess. Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform’d against And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course. Alb.

Gloster, I live


To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
And to revenge thine eyes.- Come hither, friend;
Tell me what more thou knowest.


SCENE III. The French Camp near Dover.

Enter Kent and a Gentleman. Kent. Why the king of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason?

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state,
Which since his coming forth is thought of; which
Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his personal return was most requir’d,
Aud necessary.

Kent. Who hath he left behind him general?
Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer.

Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief? Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my pre

And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a queen
Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.

0, then it mov'd ber.
Gent. Not to a rage; patience and sorrow strove
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and tears
Were like a better day : those happy smiles,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds droppd.-In brief, sorrow
Would be a rarity most belov’d, if all
Could so become it.

Made she no verbal question? Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heav'd the name of

father Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; Cried, Sisters ! sisters !--Shame of ladies! sisters! Kent! father! sisters! What? i'the storm ? i'the night?

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