fairs, and market towns:-Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan, see what breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in nature, that makes these hard hearts?-You, sir, I entertain you for one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments: you will say, they are Persian attire; but let them be changed. [To Edgar. Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here, and rest a

while.

Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains: So, so, so: We'll go to supper i' the morning: So, so, so.

Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon.

Re-enter Glo'ster.

Glo. Come hither, friend: Where is the king my master?

Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits

are gone.

Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy

arms;

I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him:

There is a litter ready; lay him in't,

And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt

meet

Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master:
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss: Take up, take up;
And follow me, that will to some provision

Give thee quick conduct.

[Kent.

Oppress'd nature sleeps:This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, Which, if convenience will not allow,

Stand in hard cure.-Come, help to bear thy mas

ter;

Thou must not stay behind.

Glo.

[To the Fool.

Come, come, away.

[Exeunt Kent, Glo'ster, and the Fool, bearing

off the king.

Edg. When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes. Who alone suffers, suffers most i' the mind; Leaving free things, and happy shows, behind: But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip, When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. How light and portable my pain seems now, When that, which makes me bend, makes the king bow;

He childed, as I father'd!-Tom, away:

Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray, When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee,

In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee. What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king! Lurk, Lurk.]

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

A ROOM IN GLO'STER'S CASTLE.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, and Servants.

Corn. Post speedily to my lord your husband show him this letter:-the army of France is landed:-Seek out the villain Glo'ster.

[Exeunt some of the servants.

Reg. Hang him instantly.

Gon. Pluck out his eyes.

Corn. Leave him to my displeasure.-Edmund, keep you our sister company; the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father, are not fit for your beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to a most festinate preparation; we are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewel, dear sister; -farewel, my lord of Glo'ster.

Enter Steward.

How now? Where's the king?

Stew. My lord of Glo'ster hath convey'd him hence:

Some five or six and thirty of his knights,

Hot questrists after him, met him at gate;

Who, with some other of the lord's dependants,

Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast

To have well-arm'd friends.

Corn.

Get horses for your mistress.

[Exeunt Goneril and Edmund.

Gon. Farewel, sweet lord, and sister.

Corn. Edmund, farewel.-Go, seek the traitor

Glo'ster,

Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us:

[Exeunt other Servants.

Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice; yet our power
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not control. Who's there? The
traitor?

Re-enter Servants, with Glo'ster.

Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

Corn. Bind fast his corky arms.

Glo. What mean your graces?—Good my

friends, consider

You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.

Corn. Bind him, I say.

Reg.

[Servants bind him.

Hard, hard;-O filthy traitor!

Glo. Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none.

Corn. To this chair bind him :-Villain, thou

shalt find

[Regan plucks his beard.

Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done

To pluck me by the beard.

Reg. So white, and such a traitor!

Naughty lady,

Glo. These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin, Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host; With robbers' hands, my hospitable favours

You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from France?

Reg. Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth.

Corn. And what confederacy have you with the traitors

Late footed in the kingdom?

Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatick king?

Speak.

Glo. I have a letter guessingly set down,

Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
And not from one oppos'd.

To Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at thy perilCorn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that.

Glo. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the

course.

Reg. Wherefore to Dover?

Glo. Because I would not see thy cruel nails Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.

The sea, with such a storm as his bare head

In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up, And quench'd the stelled fires: yet, poor old heart, He holp the heavens to rain.