Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.

Cor.

Sir, do you know me? Lear. You are a spirit, I know: When did you die? Cor. Still, still, far wide!

Phys, He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile. Lear. Where have I been?-Where am I?-Fair day-light?

I am mightily abus'd.-I should even die with pity,
To see another thus.-I know not what to say.-
I will not swear, these are my hands: let's see;
I feel this pin prick. 'Would I were assur'd
Of my condition.

Cor.
O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me :-
No, sir, you must not kneel.

Lear.

Pray, do not mock me:

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly,

I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks I should know you, and know this man:
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
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 think this lady

To be my child Cordelia.

Cor.

And so I am, I am.

Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep

not:

If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know, you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
You have some cause, they have not.

Cor.

Lear. Am I in France?
Kent.

Lear. Do not abuse me.

No cause, no cause.

In your own kingdom, sir.

Phys. Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,

You see, is cur'd in him: and yet it is danger
To make him even* o'er the time he has lost.
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more,
Till further settling.

Cor. Will't please your highness walk?
Lear.

You must bear with me:

Pray now, forget and forgive: I am old, and foolish.

ACT V.

LEAR TO CORDELIA WHEN TAKEN PRISONERS.

No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
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.

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

THE JUSTICE OF THE GODS.

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to scourge us.

EDGAR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS DISCOVERING HIMSELF TO HIS FATHER.

List a brief tale ;

And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!The bloody proclamation to escape,

To reconcile it to his apprehension.

+ Hear.

That follow'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness!
That with the pain of death we'd hourly die,
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift
Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain'd and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him,
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd,
Not sure, though 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 hath mov'd me, And, shall, perchance, do good; but speak you on; You look as you had something more to say. Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in; For I am almost ready to dissolve,

Hearing of this.

Edg.

This would have seem'd a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more,
And top extremity.

Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man,
Who having seen me in my worst estate,

Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms
He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out
As he'd burst heaven; threw him on my father;
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him,
That ever ear receiv'd: which in recounting
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack: Twice then the trumpet sounded,
And there I left him tranc'd.

LEAR ON THE DEATH OF CORDELIA.

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.

*

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! Lear. Pr'ythee, away.

*

*

A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!

[Kneeling.

I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever!—
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha!

What is't thou say'st?-Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low.

LEAR DYING.

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!

MACBETH.

ACT I.

WITCHES DESCRIBED.

WHAT are these,

So wither'd, and so wild in their attire;

That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught

Poor fool, in the time of Shakspeare, was an expression of endearment.

That man may question? Yon seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips :-You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret

That you are so.

MACBETH'S TEMPER.

Yet do I fear thy nature;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,

To catch the nearest way: Thou wouldst be great;
Art not without ambition; but without

The illness should attend it.

highly,

What thou wouldst

That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst wrongly win.

LADY MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY ON THE NEWS OF
DUNCAN'S APPROACH.

The raven himself is hoarse,

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits
That tend on mortal* thoughts, unsex me here;
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse † ;
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances

You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell!
That my keen knife § see not the wound it makes;
Nor beaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry, Hold, Hold!

MACBETH'S IRRESOLUTION.
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly: If the assassination

* Murderous.

+ Pity.

Wrap, as in a mantle. Knife anciently meant a sword or dagger.