And ask of thee forgiveness: So we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,-
Who loses, and who wins: who's in, who's out;-
And take upon us the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies: And we'll wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.

Elm.
Take them away.
Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
The gods themselves throw incense.

caught thee?

Have I

He that parts us, shall bring a brand from Heaven, And fire us hence, like foxes. Wipe thine eyes; The goujeers shall devour them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep; we'll see them starve first.

Come.

[Exeunt LEAR and CORDELIA, guarded. Edm. Come hither, captain; hark. Take thou this note; [giving a paper,] go, follow them to prison :

One step I have advanced thee; if thou dost
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
To noble fortunes. Know thou this,-that men
Are as the time is; to be tender minded
Does not become asword.-Thy great employment
Will not bear question; either say, thou'lt do it,
Or thrive by other means.

Off.

I'll do't, my lord

Edm. About it, and write happy when thou hast done it.

Mark-I say instantly, and carry set it down.

Off. I will, my lord.

so as I have [Exeunt.

That, if my speech offend a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice; here is mine,
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
My oath, and my profession. I protest.-
Maugre thy strength*, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword, and fire new fortune,
Thy valour, and thy heart, thou art a traitor :
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince;
And, from the extremest upward of thy head,
To the descent and dust beneath thy feet,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou No.
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest.

Edm. In wisdom, I should ask thy name;
But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue, some say, of breeding breathes,
What safe and nicely I might well delay,
By rule of knighthood I disdain and spurn,
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;
Which, (for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,)
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
Where they shall rest for ever.-Trumpets, speak.
[Alarums. They fight. EDMUND falls.
Alb. O save him, save him!

Gon.

This is mere practice, Gloster; By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd, But cozen'd and beguiled.

Alb. Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stop it.-Hold, sir :Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil :No tearing, lady; I perceive, you know it. [Gives the letter to EDMUND. Gon. Say, if I do: the laws are mine, not thine : Who shall arraign me for't?

[Trumpet answers within. Enter EDGAR, armed, preceded by a Trumpet. Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o' the trumpet.

Her.

What are you?

Your name, your quality? and why you answer
This present summons?
Edg.
Know, my name is lost;
By treason's tooth bare gnawn, and canker bit:
Yet I am noble, as the adversary

I come to cope withal. Alb.

Which is that adversary?

Edg. What's he that speaks for Edmund, earl of Gloster?

Edm. Himself:-what say'st thou to him?
Edg.
Draw thy sword,

Alb. Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee; Lest sorrow split my heart, if ever I Did hate thee, or thy father!

And-saved him from despair.

Never (oh fault!) reveal'd myself to him,
Until some half-hour past, when I was armed-
Not sure, but hoping, of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and, from first to last,
Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart,
(Alack! too weak the conflict to support)
Twixt two extremes of passion, joy, and grief,
Burst smilingly.

Edm. This speech of yours has mov'd me,
And shall, perchance, do good.

Enter a Gentleman, hastily, with a knife covered with blood.

Gent. Help, help, oh, help!

Edg. What means that reeking knife?
Gent. It came even from the heart of-

Alb. Whe, man? speak!

Lear.

Alb. Produce their bodies-be they alive or dead. This judgment of heaven, which makes us tremble, Touches us not with pity. [Exit Gentleman.

Kent. I'm come

Enter KENT.

To bid my king and master aye good-night.
Alb. Great thing of us forgot. Speak, Edmund,
Where's the king, and where's Cordelia ?
The bodies of REGAN and CORDELIA are brought in.
Kent. Alack, why thus?

Edm. Yet Edmund was beloved.
The one the other poisoned for my sake,
And after slew herself.

Alb. 'Tis even so-cover their faces.
Edm. I pant for life-some good I mean to do,
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send-

Be brief in it-to the castle-for my writ
Is on the life of Lear and of Cordelia ?
Edg. Who has the office? Send the token of
reprieve.

Edm. Well thought on;
Give it the captain.

take my sword. [Exit EDGAR. [EDMUND is borne off, dying. Enter LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms: EDGAR, Officer, and others.

Alb. Haste thee for thy life.

Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl!-O, you are men of stones;

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack :-O, she is gone for ever!

I know, when one is dead, and when one lives;
She's dead as earth :-Lend me a looking-glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.
Kent.
Is this the promised end?
Edg. Or image of that horror?
Alb.
Fall and cease
Lear. This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.

Kent.

O my good master! [Kneeling. Lear. Pr'ythee, away. Edg. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have saved her; now she's gone for ever!

rotten.

Kent. No, my good lord.

I am the very man. Lear. I'll see that straight.

Kent. That, from your first of difference and

Enter an Officer.

Off. Edmund is dead, my lord.
Alb.

That's but a trifle here.
You lords, and noble friends, know our intent.
What comfort to this great decay may come,
Shall be applied: For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old majesty,
To him our absolute power :-You to your rights,
[To EDGAR and KENT.
With boot, and such addition as your honours
Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings.-O see, see!

Lear. And my poor fool* is hang'd! No, no, no life:

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come

no more,

Never, never, never, never, never!-
Pray you, undo this button: Thank you, sir.-
Do you see this? Look on her,-look,-her lips.-
Look there, look there!
[He dies.
Edg.
He faints!—my lord, my lord,-
Kent. Break, heart; I pr'ythee break!
Edg.
Look up, my lord.
Kent. Vex not his ghost: O let him pass! he
hates him,

That would upon the rack of this tough world
Stretch him out longer.

O, he is gone indeed.

Edg. Kent. The wonder is, he hath endured so long: He but usurp'd his life.

*Poor fool was a term of familiar endearment.

SCENE. A Room in Capulet's House at Verona.

Enter Lady CAPULET and NURse.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper

forth to me.

What is your will?

La Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile,

We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Tell me, daughter Juliet,

How stands your disposition to be married?

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now, in brief;The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax. La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman?

This night you shall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every several lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move:
But no more deep will I endart mine eye,
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

the nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

La. Cap. We follow thee.--Juliet, the county stays.

SCENE.-A Street in Verona.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch Bearers, and others. Rom. Give me a torch,-I am not for this ambling;

Being but heavy I will bear the light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead, So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound.

Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and to bound—
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
Now we mean well in going to this mask,
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer.
Why, may one ask?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer.

And so did I. That dreamers often lie. Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things

Rom. Well, what was yours?

Mer.

true.

Drawn with a team of little atomies*
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs,
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces of the smallest spider's web;
Her collars of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film :
Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of
love;

On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight:

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace,

Rom. Thou talk'st of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin bis fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail!-On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague:-
Fetch me my rapier, boy:-What? dares the slave
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Now by the stock and honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore storm you so?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe:
A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?

Tyb.
'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone,
He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth;
I would not for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement;
Therefore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will; the which if thou respect,
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest; I'll not endure him.

1 Cap.

He shall be endur'd.

Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. 1 Cap. Go to, go to. Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit, Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand [To JULIET. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in