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"and his bed my goal; from the loathed warmth "whereof deliver me, and fupply the place for your << labour.

"Your (wife, fo I would fay)

"affectionate Servant,

GONERILL.

Oh, undistinguish'd space of woman's will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life,

And the exchange my brother. Here, i'th'fands
Thee I'll rake up, the poft unfanctified

Of murth'rous letchers: and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the fight
Of the death-practis'd Duke.

Give me your hand:

Come, fir, I will bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt.

END of the FOURTH ACT.

ACT

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SCENE, a Chamber.

Lear afleep on a Couch, Cordelia, and Attendants;

Phyf. Be by,

him;

Cordelia.

Ye kind gods!

Cure this great breach in his abused nature !

Th'untun'd and jarring fenfes, Oh, wind up

Of this child-changed father!

good madam, when we do awake

I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor. O my dear father! reftauration, hang Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss Repair thofe violent harms, that my two fifters Have in thy reverence made!

Phyf. Kind and deareft princefs!

Cor. O Regan! Gonerill, inhuman fifters! Had he not been your father, these white flakes Did challenge pity of you. Was this a face To be expos'd against the warring winds? To stand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder? In the most terrible and nimble ftroke

Of quick, crofs lightning?-My very enemy's dog,
Tho' he had bit me, fhould have ftood that night
Against my fire and waft thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee

In short and mufty straw? Alack, alack!
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits, at once,
Had not concluded all. He wakes; fpeak to him.
Phyf. Madam, do you; 'tis fitteft?

Cor.

Cor. How does my royal lord? how fares your Majefty?

Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o'th' grave.

Ha! is this too a world of cruelty!

I know my privilege; think not that I will
Be treated like a wretched mortal! No.
No more of that!

Cor. Speak to me, fir, who am I?

Lear. Thou art a foul in blifs; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

Do fcald like molten lead.

Cor. Sir, do you know me?

Lear. You are a fpirit, I know; when did you die? Car. Still, ftill, far wide

Phyf. He's farce awake; he'll foon grow more compos'd.

Lear. Where have I been? where am I? fair day-light?

I'm mightily abus'd; I should even die with pity,
To fee another thus. I know not what to say;
I will not fwear thefe are my hands:
Would I were affur'd of my condition!
Cor. O look upon me, fir,

And hold your hand in benediction o'er me.
Nay, Sir, you must not kneel.

Lear. Pray, do not mock me;

I am a very foolifh fond old man,
Fourscore and upward; and to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.

Cor. Ah then farewel to patience! witnefs for me, Ye mighty pow'rs, I ne'er complain'd till now! Lear. Methinks, I fhould know you, and know this man.

Yet I am doubtful: for I'm mainly ignorant, What place this is; and all the skill I have, Remembers not thefe garments; nay, I know not Where I did fleep last night. Do not laugh at me,

For,

For, as I am a man, I think, this lady
To be my child Cordelia.

Cor. O my dear, dear father!

Lear. Be your tears wet? yes faith; pray do not weep.

I know I have giv'n thee caufe, and am fo humbled With croffes fince, that I cou'd afk

Forgiveness of thee, were it poffible

That thou cou'dft grant it;

If thou haft poifon for me I will drink it,

Bless thee, and die.

Cor. O pity, fir, a bleeding heart, and ceafe This killing language.

Lear. Tell me, Friends, where am I?

Phyf. In your own kingdom, fir.

Lear. Do not abuse me.

Phyf. Be comforted, good madam, for the violence

Of his diftemper's paft; we'll lead him in,
Nor trouble him, 'till he is better fettled.
Wil't please you, fir, walk into freer air?

Lear. You must bear with me; pray you now,

forget and forgive! I am old and foolish.

[They lead him off. Cor. The gods reftore you !-hark I hear afar The beaten Drum. Oh! for an arm

Like the fierce Thunderer's, when the Earth-born

fons

Storm'd heav'n, to fight this injur'd father's battle!
That I cou'd fhift my fex, and dye me deep
In his oppofer's blood! but, as I may,
With women's weapons, piety and pray'rs,
I'll aid his caufe.-You never erring gods
Fight on his fide, and thunder on his foes
Such tempefts as his poor ag'd head fuftain'd:
Your Image fuffers when a monarch bleeds:
'Tis your own caufe; for that your fuccours bring;
Revenge yourselves, and right an injur'd king!

[Exit.

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Baftard in his Tent.

Baft. To both these fifters have I fworn my love, Each jealous of the other, as the stung Are of the adder ;-neither can be held, If both remain alive.-Where fhall I fix? Cornwall is dead, and Regan's empty bed Seems caft by fortune for me-But bright Gonerill, Brings yet untafted beauty; I will ufe

Her hufband's count'nance for the battle, then Ufurp at once his bed and throne. [Enter Officers. My trufty fcouts, you're well return'd; have ye defcry'd

The ftrength and posture of the enemy?

;

Off. We have, and were furpris'd to find The banish'd Kent return'd, and at their head Your brother Edgar on the rear; old Glo❜fter* (A moving fpectacle) led through the ranks, Whofe pow'rful tongue, and more prevailing wrongs,

Have fo enrag'd their ruftic fpirit, that with
Th' approaching dawn we must expect a battle.
Baft. You bring a welcome hearing. Each to his
charge;

Line well your ranks, and stand on your award.
To night repofe you; and i'th' morn we'll give
The fun a fight that fhall be worth his rifing.

SCENE, a Valley near the Camp.

Enter Edgar and Glocefter.

[Exeunt.

Edg. Here, fir, take you the fhadow of this tree For your good hoft; pray that the right may thrive: If ever I return to you again,

I'll bring you comfort.

Glo. Thanks, friendly fir;

[Exit.

The fortune your good caufe deferves betide you.
An Alarm; after which Glocefter fpeaks.
The fight grows hot; the whole war's now at work,

Where's

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