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. Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow. [Exit. Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.-I cannot daub it further. [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, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see And each man have enough.-Dost thou know Dover? Glo. 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. Give me thy arın; [Exeunt. SCENE 11. Before the DUKE of ALBANY'S Palace. Enter GONERIL and EDMUND; STEWARD meeting them. Gon. Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our mild husband Not met us on the way:-Now, where's your master? He smil'd at it: I told him, you were coming; When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot; Gon. Then shall you go no further. [To Edmund. I must change arms at home, and give the distaff 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 well. Edm. Yours in the ranks of death. Gon. My most dear Gloster! [Exit Edmund. O, the difference of man, and man! To thee Usurps my bed. Stew. 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: Gon. No more; the text is foolish. Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile : Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick, If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep. Gon. Milk-liver'd man! That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum? Alb. Gon. O vain fool! Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame, Be-monster not thy feature. Were it my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, Thy flesh and bones:-Howe'er thou art a fiend, 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 be bred, thrill'd with remorse, Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead : Alb. 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, Upon my hateful life: Another way, The news is not so tart.—I'll read, and answer. [Exit. Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his eyes? Mess. Come with my lady hither. Alb. He is not here. Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back again. Mess. Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him; 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, [Exeunt. 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, Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? to any de Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my pre sence; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down Sought to be king o'er her. Kent. O, then it mov'd her. 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 dropp'd.-In brief, sorrow Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all Could so become it. Kent. 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! |