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Reg. Our troops set forth to morrow : stay with us : The ways are dangerous.

Stew. I may not, Madam; My lady charg'd my duty in this business. Reg. Why should the write to Edmund ? might not

you Transport her purposes by word ? Belike, Something- -I know not what- I'll love thee

much Let me un seal the letter.

Stew. Madam, I had rather

Reg. I know, your lady do's not love her husband : I'm sure of that; and, at her late being here, She gave ftrange ceiliads, and most speaking looks To noble Edmund. I know, you're of her bosom.

Stew. 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, And more convenient is he for my hand, Than for your lady's : you may gather more If you do find him, pray you, give him this; And when your Mistress hears thus much from you, I pray,

defire her call her wisdom to her. So farewel. If you

do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. Stew. 'Would I could meet him, Madam, I should

shew What party I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well.


S CE N E, the Country, near Dover.

Enter Glo'fter, and Edgar as a Peasant. Gle. Hen shall come to th' top of that same hill? Edg. You do climb

up it now. Look, how Glo. Methinks, the ground is even. Edg. Horrible steep.


we labour.

Hark, do you hear the sea i

Glo. 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'tt
In better phrase and matter than thou didft.

Edg. You're much deceiv’d: in nothing am I chang'd, But in my garments.

Glo. Sure, you're better spoken.
Edg. Come on, Sir, here's the place stand till.

How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Shew scarce fo gross as beetles. Half way down
Hangs one, that gathers Samphire ; dreadful trade !
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.
The fisher-men, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almoft too small for fight. The murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumbred idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,

brain turn, and the deficient fight,
Topple down headlong.
Glo. Set


stand. Edg. Give me your hand: you're now within a foot Of th' extream verge: for all below 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 farewel, and let me hear thee going.

Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir. [Seems to go Glo. With all


Edg. Why do I trifle thus with his despair ?
'Tis done to cure it.

Glo. O you mighty Gods!
This world I do renounce; and in your lights


me, where

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 it self out. If Edgar live, O bless him !
Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps, and falls along.

Edg. Good Sir, farewel.
And yet I know not how Conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life it self
Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past.- - Alive or dead ?
Hoa, you, hear you, friend ! Sir! Sir! speak!
Thus might he pass, indeed—yet he revives.
What are you, Sir ?

Glo. Away, and let me die.
Edg. Had'At thou been aught but Goss'mer, feathers,

So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou’d'ft shiver'd like an egg : but thou dost breathe,
Haft heavy substance, bleed'ft not; speak, art sound?
Ten mafts at each make not the altitude,
Which thou haft perpendicularly fall’n.
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.

Glo. But have I fall'n, or no?

Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn! Look up a-height, the shrill-gorg'd Lark fo far Cannot be seen or heard : do but look

Glo. Alack, I have no eyes.
Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,
To end it self by death? 'twas yet some comfort,
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
And frustrate his proud will.

Edg. Give me your arm.
Up, fo-how is't? feel you your legs? you stand,
Gle. Too well, too well.

Edg. This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o'th' cliff, what thing was that,
Which parted from you?

Glo. A poor unfortunate beggar.
Edg. As I stood here, below, methought, his eyes


Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
Horns welk'd, and wav'd like the enridged fea:
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think, that the clearest gods, who make them honours
Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee.

Glo. I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
Afiction, 'till it do cry out it felf,
Enough, enough, and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man ; often 'twould say,
The fiend, the fiend- -he led me to that place.
Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts.

Enter Lear, drejt madly with flowers.
But who comes here?
The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus.

Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coyning: I am the King himself.

Edg. O thou fide-piercing fight!

Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's your press-mony. (25) That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace;--this piece of toasted cheese will do't - there's my gauntlet, I'll prove it on a giant, Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, Barb! (26) i'th' clout, i'th' clout: hewgh.- -Give the word.

Edg. Sweet marjoram.

(26) That Fellow handles his Bow like a Cowkeeper. ) Thus Mr. Pope in his last Edition ; but, I am afraid, i betray'd him into the Error by an absurd Conje&ure of my own, in my SHAKESPEARE restored. 'Tis certain we most read Crowkeeper herc; and, it seems, in several Counties to this Day, they call a ftutfd Figure, representing a Man, and arm’d with a Bow and Arrow, (set up to fright the Crows, and other Birds of Prey, from the Fruit and Corn;) a Crowkeeper ; as well as a Scare-crow.

(26).0 well flown Bird,) Lear is here raving of Archery, and hooting at Buts, as is plain by the Words i'ch Clout, that is, the white Mark they set up and aim at: hence the Phrase, to bit the White. So that we must certainly read, o well-flown, Barb! ii'e. the barbed, or boarded Arrow, Mr.Warburtoni


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told me

Lear. Pass.
Glo. I know that voice.

Lear. Ha! Gonerill! hah! Regan! they flatter'd me like a dog, and told me, I had white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there. To say ay, and no, to every thing that I said — Ay, and no, too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter ; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are not men o' their words; they

I was every thing : 'tis a lie, I am not ague proof.

Glo. The trick of that voice I do well remember : ; Is't not the King ?

Lear. Ay, every inch a King.
When I do ftare, see, how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life. What was the cause ?
Adultery? thou shalt not die; die for adultery ? no, the
wren goes to't, and the small gilded fie does letcher in
my fight. Let copulation thrive : for Glo'fer's bastard-
fon was kinder to his father, than my daughters got 'tween
the lawful sheets. To't, luxury, pell-mell; for I lack fol-
diers. Behold yond fimpering Dame, whose face 'tween
her forks presages snow ; that minces virtue, and does
fhake the head to hear of pleasure's name. The fitchew,
nor the soyled horse, goes to't with a more riotous ap-
petite : down from the waste they are centaurs, though
women all above : but to the girdle do the Gods inherit,
beneath is all the fiends. There's hell, there's darkness,
there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench,
consumption: fie, fie, fie; pah, pah; give me an ounce
of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination !
there's mony for thee.

Glo. O, let me kiss that hand.
Lear. Let me wipe it first, it smells of mortality.

Glo. O ruin'd piece of nature ! this great world
Shall so wear out to nought. Do'st thou know me?

Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough : doft thou fquiny at me ? no, do thy worst, blind Cupid; I'll not love.' Read thou this challenge, mark but the penning of it.


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