Scena Prima

[Enter Edgar.]

Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd, Then still contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worst: The lowest, and most deiected thing of Fortune, Stands still in esperance, liues not in feare: The lamentable change is from the best, The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then, Thou vnsubstantiall ayre that I embrace: The Wretch that thou hast blowne vnto the worst, Owes nothing to thy blasts. [Enter Glouster, and an Oldman.]

But who comes heere? My Father poorely led? World, World, O world! But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee, Life would not yeelde to age

Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant, And your Fathers Tenant, these fourescore yeares

Glou. Away, get thee away: good Friend be gone, Thy comforts can do me no good at all, Thee, they may hurt

Oldm. You cannot see your way

Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes: I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seene, Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar, The food of thy abused Fathers wrath: Might I but liue to see thee in my touch, I'ld say I had eyes againe

Oldm. How now? who's there? Edg. O Gods! Who is't can say I am at the worst? I am worse then ere I was

Old. 'Tis poore mad Tom

Edg. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can say this is the worst

Oldm. Fellow, where goest? Glou. Is it a Beggar-man? Oldm. Madman, and beggar too

Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I'th' last nights storme, I such a fellow saw; Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne Came then into my minde, and yet my minde Was then scarse Friends with him. I haue heard more since: As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th' Gods, They kill vs for their sport

Edg. How should this be? Bad is the Trade that must play Foole to sorrow, Ang'ring it selfe, and others. Blesse thee Master

Glou. Is that the naked Fellow? Oldm. I, my Lord

Glou. Get thee away: If for my sake Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine I'th' way toward Douer, do it for ancient loue, And bring some couering for this naked Soule, Which Ile intreate to leade me

Old. Alacke sir, he is mad

Glou. 'Tis the times plague, When Madmen leade the blinde: Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure: Aboue the rest, be gone

Oldm. Ile bring him the best Parrell that I haue Come on't what will.

Exit

Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow

Edg. Poore Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further

Glou. Come hither fellow

Edg. And yet I must: Blesse thy sweete eyes, they bleede

Glou. Know'st thou the way to Douer? Edg. Both style, and gate; Horseway, and foot-path: poore Tom hath bin scarr'd out of his good wits. Blesse thee good mans sonne, from the foule Fiend

Glou. Here take this purse, y whom the heau'ns plagues Haue humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched Makes thee the happier: Heauens deale so still: Let the superfluous, and Lust-dieted man, That slaues your ordinance, that will not see Because he do's not feele, feele your powre quickly: So distribution should vndoo excesse, And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer? Edg. I Master

Glou. There is a Cliffe, whose high and bending head Lookes fearfully in the confined Deepe: Bring me but to the very brimme of it, And Ile repayre the misery thou do'st beare With something rich about me: from that place, I shall no leading neede

Edg. Giue me thy arme; Poore Tom shall leade thee.

[Exeunt.]

Scena Secunda

[Enter Gonerill, Bastard, and Steward.]

Gon. Welcome my Lord. I meruell our mild husband Not met vs on the way. Now, where's your Master? Stew. Madam within, but neuer man so chang'd: I told him of the Army that was Landed: He smil'd at it. I told him you were comming, His answer was, the worse. Of Glosters Treachery, And of the loyall Seruice of his Sonne 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, seemes pleasant to him; What like, offensiue

Gon. Then shall you go no further. It is the Cowish terror of his spirit That dares not vndertake: Hee'l not feele wrongs Which tye him to an answer: our wishes on the way May proue effects. Backe Edmond to my Brother, Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powres. I must change names at home, and giue the Distaffe Into my Husbands hands. This trustie Seruant Shall passe betweene vs: ere long you are like to heare (If you dare venture in your owne behalfe) A Mistresses command. Weare this; spare speech, Decline your head. This kisse, if it durst speake Would stretch thy Spirits vp into the ayre: Conceiue, and fare thee well

Bast. Yours in the rankes of death. [Enter.]

Gon. My most deere Gloster. Oh, the difference of man, and man, To thee a Womans seruices are due, My Foole vsurpes my body

Stew. Madam, here come's my Lord. [Enter Albany.]

Gon. I haue beene worth the whistle

Alb. Oh Gonerill, You are not worth the dust which the rude winde Blowes in your face

Gon. Milke-Liuer'd man, That bear'st a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs, Who hast not in thy browes an eye-discerning Thine Honor, from thy suffering

Alb. See thy selfe diuell: Proper deformitie seemes not in the Fiend So horrid as in woman

Gon. Oh vaine Foole. [Enter a Messenger.]

Mes. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwals dead, Slaine by his Seruant, going to put out The other eye of Glouster

Alb. Glousters eyes

Mes. A Seruant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against the act: bending his Sword To his great Master, who, threat-enrag'd Flew on him, and among'st them fell'd him dead, But not without that harmefull stroke, which since Hath pluckt him after

Alb. This shewes you are aboue You Iustices, that these our neather crimes So speedily can venge. But (O poore Glouster) Lost he his other eye? Mes. Both, both, my Lord. This Leter Madam, craues a speedy answer: 'Tis from your Sister

Gon. One way I like this well. But being widdow, and my Glouster with her, May all the building in my fancie plucke Vpon my hatefull life. Another way The Newes is not so tart. Ile read, and answer

Alb. Where was his Sonne, When they did take his eyes? Mes. Come with my Lady hither

Alb. He is not heere

Mes. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe

Alb. Knowes he the wickednesse? Mes. I my good Lord: 'twas he inform'd against him And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might haue the freer course

Alb. Glouster, I liue To thanke thee for the loue thou shew'dst the King, And to reuenge thine eyes. Come hither Friend, Tell me what more thou know'st.

[Exeunt.]

Scena Tertia

[Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Gentlemen, and.] Souldiours

Cor. Alacke, 'tis he: why he was met euen now As mad as the vext Sea, singing alowd. Crown'd with ranke Fenitar, and furrow weeds, With Hardokes, Hemlocke, Nettles, Cuckoo flowres, Darnell, and all the idle weedes that grow In our sustaining Corne. A Centery send forth; Search euery Acre in the high-growne field, And bring him to our eye. What can mans wisedome In the restoring his bereaued Sense; he that helpes him, Take all my outward worth

Gent. There is meanes Madam: Our foster Nurse of Nature, is repose, The which he lackes: that to prouoke in him Are many Simples operatiue, whose power Will close the eye of Anguish

Cord. All blest Secrets, All you vnpublish'd Vertues of the earth Spring with my teares; be aydant, and remediate In the Goodmans desires: seeke, seeke for him, Least his vngouern'd rage, dissolue the life That wants the meanes to leade it. [Enter Messenger.]

Mes. Newes Madam, The Brittish Powres are marching hitherward

Cor. 'Tis knowne before. Our preparation stands In expectation of them. O deere Father, It is thy businesse that I go about: Therfore great France My mourning, and importun'd teares hath pittied: No blowne Ambition doth our Armes incite, But loue, deere loue, and our ag'd Fathers Rite: Soone may I heare, and see him.

[Exeunt.]

Scena Quarta

[Enter Regan, and Steward.]

Reg. But are my Brothers Powres set forth? Stew. I Madam

Reg. Himselfe in person there? Stew. Madam with much ado: Your Sister is the better Souldier

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lord at home? Stew. No Madam

Reg. What might import my Sisters Letter to him? Stew. I know not, Lady

Reg. Faith he is poasted hence on serious matter: It was great ignorance, Glousters eyes being out To let him liue. Where he arriues, he moues All hearts against vs: Edmund, I thinke is gone In pitty of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life: Moreouer to descry The strength o'th' Enemy

Stew. I must needs after him, Madam, with my Letter

Reg. Our troopes set forth to morrow, stay with vs: The wayes are dangerous

Stew. I may not Madam: My Lady charg'd my dutie in this busines

Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you transport her purposes by word? Belike, Some things, I know not what. Ile loue thee much Let me vnseale the Letter

Stew. Madam, I had rather- Reg. I know your Lady do's not loue her Husband, I am sure of that: and at her late being heere, She gaue strange Eliads, and most speaking lookes To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosome

Stew. I, Madam? Reg. I speake in vnderstanding: Y'are: I know't, Therefore I do aduise you take this note: My Lord is dead: Edmond, and I haue talk'd, And more conuenient is he for my hand Then for your Ladies: You may gather more: If you do finde him, pray you giue him this; And when your Mistris heares thus much from you, I pray desire her call her wisedome to her. So fare you well: If you do chance to heare of that blinde Traitor, Preferment fals on him, that cuts him off

Stew. Would I could meet Madam, I should shew What party I do follow

Reg. Fare thee well.

[Exeunt.]

Scena Quinta

[Enter Gloucester, and Edgar.]

Glou. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill? Edg. You do climbe vp it now. Look how we labor

Glou. Me thinkes the ground is eeuen

Edg. Horrible steepe. Hearke, do you heare the Sea? Glou. No truly

Edg. Why then your other Senses grow imperfect By your eyes anguish

Glou. So may it be indeed. Me thinkes thy voyce is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase, and matter then thou did'st

Edg. Y'are much deceiu'd: In nothing am I chang'd But in my Garments

Glou. Me thinkes y'are better spoken

Edg. Come on Sir, Heere's the place: stand still: how fearefull And dizie 'tis, to cast ones eyes so low, The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre Shew scarse so grosse as Beetles. Halfe way downe Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade: Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head. The Fishermen, that walk'd vpon the beach Appeare like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Barke, Diminish'd to her Cocke: her Cocke, a Buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge, That on th' vnnumbred idle Pebble chafes Cannot be heard so high. Ile looke no more, Least my braine turne, and the deficient sight Topple downe headlong

Glou. Set me where you stand

Edg. Giue me your hand: You are now within a foote of th' extreme Verge: For all beneath the Moone would I not leape vpright

Glou. Let go my hand: Heere Friend's another purse: in it, a Iewell Well worth a poore mans taking. Fayries, and Gods Prosper it with thee. Go thou further off, Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going

Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir

Glou. With all my heart

Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire, Is done to cure it

Glou. O you mighty Gods! This world I do renounce, and in your sights Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could beare it longer, and not fall To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes, My snuffe, and loathed part of Nature should

Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him: Now Fellow, fare thee well

Edg. Gone Sir, farewell: And yet I know not how conceit may rob The Treasury of life, when life it selfe Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought, By this had thought bin past. Aliue, or dead? Hoa, you Sir: Friend, heare you Sir, speake: Thus might he passe indeed: yet he reuiues. What are you Sir? Glou. Away, and let me dye

Edg. Had'st thou beene ought But Gozemore, Feathers, Ayre, (So many fathome downe precipitating) Thou'dst shiuer'd like an Egge: but thou do'st breath: Hast heauy substance, bleed'st not, speak'st, art sound, Ten Masts at each, make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell, Thy life's a Myracle. Speake yet againe

Glou. But haue I falne, or no? Edg. From the dread Somnet of this Chalkie Bourne Looke vp a height, the shrill-gorg'd Larke so farre Cannot be seene, or heard: Do but looke vp

Glou. Alacke, I haue no eyes: Is wretchednesse depriu'd that benefit To end it selfe by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, When misery could beguile the Tyrants rage, And frustrate his proud will

Edg. Giue me your arme. Vp, so: How is't? Feele you your Legges? You stand

Glou. Too well, too well

Edg. This is aboue all strangenesse, Vpon the crowne o'th' Cliffe. What thing was that Which parted from you? Glou. A poore vnfortunate Beggar

Edg. As I stood heere below, me thought his eyes Were two full Moones: he had a thousand Noses, Hornes wealk'd, and waued like the enraged Sea: It was some Fiend: Therefore thou happy Father, Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who make them Honors Of mens Impossibilities, haue preserued thee

Glou. I do remember now: henceforth Ile beare Affliction, till it do cry out it selfe Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you speake of, I tooke it for a man: often 'twould say The Fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place

Edgar. Beare free and patient thoughts. [Enter Lear.]

But who comes heere? The safer sense will ne're accommodate His Master thus

Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the King himselfe

Edg. O thou side-piercing sight! Lear. Nature's aboue Art, in that respect. Ther's your Presse-money. That fellow handles his bow, like a Crowkeeper: draw mee a Cloathiers yard. Looke, looke, a Mouse: peace, peace, this peece of toasted Cheese will doo't. There's my Gauntlet, Ile proue it on a Gyant. Bring vp the browne Billes. O well flowne Bird: i'th' clout, i'th' clout: Hewgh. Giue the word

Edg. Sweet Mariorum

Lear. Passe

Glou. I know that voice

Lear. Ha! Gonerill with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a Dogge, and told mee I had the white hayres in my Beard, ere the blacke ones were there. To say I, and no, to euery thing that I said: I, and no too, was no good Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and the winde to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go too, they are not men o'their words; they told me, I was euery thing: 'Tis a Lye, I am not Agu-proofe

Glou. The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember: Is't not the King? Lear. I, euery inch a King. When I do stare, see how the Subiect quakes. I pardon that mans life. What was thy cause? Adultery? thou shalt not dye: dye for Adultery? No, the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly Do's letcher in my sight. Let Copulation thriue: For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his Father, Then my Daughters got 'tweene the lawfull sheets. Too't Luxury pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers. Behold yond simpring Dame, whose face betweene her Forkes presages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do's shake the head to heare of pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor the soyled Horse goes too't with a more riotous appetite: Downe from the waste they are Centaures, though Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit, beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkenes, there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption: Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce of Ciuet; good Apothecary sweeten my immagination: There's money for thee

Glou. O let me kisse that hand

Lear. Let me wipe it first, It smelles of Mortality

Glou. O ruin'd peece of Nature, this great world Shall so weare out to naught. Do'st thou know me? Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough: dost thou squiny at me? No, doe thy worst blinde Cupid, Ile not loue. Reade thou this challenge, marke but the penning of it

Glou. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not see

Edg. I would not take this from report, It is, and my heart breakes at it

Lear. Read

Glou. What with the Case of eyes? Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No eies in your head, nor no mony in your purse? Your eyes are in a heauy case, your purse in a light, yet you see how this world goes

Glou. I see it feelingly

Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes, with no eyes. Looke with thine eares: See how yond Iustice railes vpon yond simple theefe. Hearke in thine eare: Change places, and handy-dandy, which is the Iustice, which is the theefe: Thou hast seene a Farmers dogge barke at a Beggar? Glou. I Sir

Lear. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou might'st behold the great image of Authoritie, a Dogg's obey'd in Office. Thou, Rascall Beadle, hold thy bloody hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy owne backe, thou hotly lusts to vse her in that kind, for which thou whip'st her. The Vsurer hangs the Cozener. Thorough tatter'd cloathes great Vices do appeare: Robes, and Furr'd gownes hide all. Place sinnes with Gold, and the strong Lance of Iustice, hurtlesse breakes: Arme it in ragges, a Pigmies straw do's pierce it. None do's offend, none, I say none, Ile able 'em; take that of me my Friend, who haue the power to seale th' accusers lips. Get thee glasse-eyes, and like a scuruy Politician, seeme to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my Bootes: harder, harder, so

Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt, Reason in Madnesse

Lear. If thou wilt weepe my Fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well enough, thy name is Glouster: Thou must be patient; we came crying hither: Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the Ayre We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Marke

Glou. Alacke, alacke the day

Lear. When we are borne, we cry that we are come To this great stage of Fooles. This a good blocke: It were a delicate stratagem to shoo A Troope of Horse with Felt: Ile put't in proofe, And when I haue stolne 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. Your most deere Daughter- Lear. No rescue? What, a Prisoner? I am euen The Naturall Foole of Fortune. Vse me well, You shall haue ransome. Let me haue Surgeons, I am cut to'th' Braines

Gent. You shall haue any thing

Lear. No Seconds? All my selfe? Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt To vse his eyes for Garden water-pots. I wil die brauely, Like a smugge Bridegroome. What? I will be Iouiall: Come, come, I am a King, Masters, know you that? Gent. You are a Royall one, and we obey you

Lear. Then there's life in't. Come, and you get it, You shall get it by running: Sa, sa, sa, sa. [Enter.]

Gent. A sight most pittifull in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast a Daughter Who redeemes Nature from the generall curse Which twaine haue brought her to

Edg. Haile gentle Sir

Gent. Sir, speed you: what's your will? Edg. Do you heare ought (Sir) of a Battell toward

Gent. Most sure, and vulgar: Euery one heares that, which can distinguish sound

Edg. But by your fauour: How neere's the other Army? Gent. Neere, and on speedy foot: the maine descry Stands on the hourely thought

Edg. I thanke you Sir, that's all

Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here Her Army is mou'd on. [Enter.]

Edg. I thanke you Sir

Glou. You euer gentle Gods, take my breath from me, Let not my worser Spirit tempt me againe To dye before you please

Edg. Well pray you Father

Glou. Now good sir, what are you? Edg. A most poore man, made tame to Fortunes blows Who, by the Art of knowne, and feeling sorrowes, Am pregnant to good pitty. Giue me your hand, Ile leade you to some biding

Glou. Heartie thankes: The bountie, and the benizon of Heauen To boot, and boot. [Enter Steward.]

Stew. A proclaim'd prize: most happie That eyelesse head of thine, was first fram'd flesh To raise my fortunes. Thou old, vnhappy Traitor, Breefely thy selfe remember: the Sword is out That must destroy thee

Glou. Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough too't

Stew. Wherefore, bold Pezant, Dar'st thou support a publish'd Traitor? Hence, Least that th' infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arme

Edg. Chill not let go Zir, Without vurther 'casion

Stew. Let go Slaue, or thou dy'st

Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, and let poore volke passe: 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 Ile try whither your Costard, or my Ballow be the harder; chill be plaine with you

Stew. Out Dunghill

Edg. Chill picke your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor your foynes

Stew. Slaue thou hast slaine me: Villain, take my purse; If euer thou wilt thriue, bury my bodie, And giue the Letters which thou find'st about me, To Edmund Earle of Glouster: seeke him out Vpon the English party. Oh vntimely death, death

Edg. I know thee well. A seruiceable Villaine, As duteous to the vices of thy Mistris, As badnesse would desire

Glou. What, is he dead? Edg. Sit you downe Father: rest you. Let's see these Pockets; the Letters that he speakes of May be my Friends: hee's dead; I am onely sorry He had no other Deathsman. Let vs see: Leaue gentle waxe, and manners: blame vs not To know our enemies mindes, we rip their hearts, Their Papers is more lawfull.

Reads the Letter.

Let our reciprocall vowes be remembred. You haue manie opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and 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. Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate Seruant. Gonerill. Oh indistinguish'd space of Womans will, A plot vpon her vertuous Husbands life, And the exchange my Brother: heere, in the sands Thee Ile rake vp, the poste vnsanctified Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time, With this vngracious paper strike the sight Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well, That of thy death, and businesse, I can tell

Glou. The King is mad: How stiffe is my vilde sense That I stand vp, and haue ingenious feeling Of my huge Sorrowes? Better I were distract, So should my thoughts be seuer'd from my greefes,

Drum afarre off.

And woes, by wrong imaginations loose The knowledge of themselues

Edg. Giue me your hand: Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten Drumme. Come Father, Ile bestow you with a Friend.

[Exeunt.]

Scaena Septima.

[Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.]

Cor. O thou good Kent, How shall I liue and worke To match thy goodnesse? My life will be too short, And euery measure faile me

Kent. To be acknowledg'd Madam is ore-pai'd, All my reports go with the modest truth, Nor more, nor clipt, but so

Cor. Be better suited, These weedes are memories of those worser houres: I prythee put them off

Kent. Pardon deere Madam, Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent, My boone I make it, that you know me not, Till time, and I, thinke meet

Cor. Then be't so my good Lord: How do's the King? Gent. Madam sleepes still

Cor. O you kind Gods! Cure this great breach in his abused Nature, Th' vntun'd and iarring senses, O winde vp, Of this childe-changed Father

Gent. So please your Maiesty, That we may wake the King, he hath slept long? Cor. Be gouern'd by your knowledge, and proceede I'th' sway of your owne will: is he array'd? [Enter Lear in a chaire carried by Seruants].] Gent. I Madam: in the heauinesse of sleepe, We put fresh garments on him. Be by good Madam when we do awake him, I doubt of his Temperance

Cor. O my deere Father, restauratian hang Thy medicine on my lippes, and let this kisse Repaire those violent harmes, that my two Sisters Haue in thy Reuerence made

Kent. Kind and deere Princesse

Cor. Had you not bin their Father, these white flakes Did challenge pitty of them. Was this a face To be oppos'd against the iarring windes? Mine Enemies dogge, though he had bit me, Should haue stood that night against my fire, And was't thou faine (poore Father) To houell thee with Swine and Rogues forlorne, In short, and musty straw? Alacke, alacke, 'Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once Had not concluded all. He wakes, speake to him

Gen. Madam do you, 'tis fittest

Cor. How does my Royall Lord? How fares your Maiesty? Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o'th' graue, Thou art a Soule in blisse, but I am bound Vpon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares Do scal'd, like molten Lead

Cor. Sir, do you know me? Lear. You are a spirit I know, where did you dye? Cor. Still, still, farre wide

Gen. He's scarse awake, Let him alone a while

Lear. Where haue I bin? Where am I? Faire day light? I am mightily abus'd; I should eu'n dye with pitty To see another thus. I know not what to say: I will not sweare these are my hands: let's see, I feele this pin pricke, would I were assur'd Of my condition

Cor. O looke vpon me Sir, And hold your hand in benediction o're me, You must not kneele

Lear. Pray do not mocke me: I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourescore and vpward, Not an houre more, nor lesse: And to deale plainely, I feare I am not in my perfect mind. Me thinkes I should know you, and know this man, Yet I am doubtfull: For I am mainely ignorant What place this is: and all the skill I haue 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 thinke this Lady To be my childe Cordelia

Cor. And so I am: I am

Lear. Be your teares wet? Yes faith: I pray weepe not, If you haue poyson for me, I will drinke it: I know you do not loue me, for your Sisters Haue (as I do remember) done me wrong. You haue some cause, they haue not

Cor. No cause, no cause

Lear. Am I in France? Kent. In your owne kingdome Sir

Lear. Do not abuse me

Gent. Be comforted good Madam, the great rage You see is kill'd in him: desire him to go in, Trouble him no more till further setling

Cor. Wilt please your Highnesse walke? Lear. You must beare with me: Pray you now forget, and forgiue, I am old and foolish.

[Exeunt.]