I am fure of that: and, at her late being here, She gave strange œiliads, and most speaking looks Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I know it: So, fare you well. If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam! I would show What party I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. The Country near Dover. Enter GLOSTER and EDGAR, dress'd like a Peasant. Glo. When shall we come to the top of that fame hill? Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. Glo. Methinks, the ground is even. Edg. Hark, do you hear the sea? Glo. Horrible steep: No, truly. Edg. Why, then your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. Glo. So may it be, indeed : Methinks Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st Edg. You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd, But in my garments. Glo. Methinks, you are better spoken. Edg. Come on, fir; here's the place:-stand still.How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to caft one's eyes fo low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Glo. Set me where you stand. Edg. Give me your hand: You are now within a foot Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright. Glo. Let go my hand. Here, friend, is another purfe; in it, a jewel Well worth a poor man's taking: Fairies, and gods, [Seems to go. With all my heart. Glo. This world I do renounce; and, in your fights, If I could bear it longer, and not fall Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, blefs him !— And yet I know not how conceit may rob The treasury of life, when life itself Yields to the theft: Had he been where he thought, Glo. Away, and let me die. Edg. Had'ft thou been aught but goffomer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thou had'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou doft breathe; Edg. From the dread fummit of this chalky bourn : Look up a-height;—the fhrill-gorg`d lark fo far Glo. Alack, I have no eyes.~ Is wretchednefs depriv'd that benefit, To end itself by death? 'Twas yet fome comfort, Edg. Give me your arm : Up-So;-How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand. Glo. Glo. Too well, too well. Edg. This is above all strangeness. Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that Glo. A poor unfortunate beggar. Edg. As I ftood here below, methought, his eyes Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, Horns whelk'd, and wav'd like the enridged sea; It was fome fiend: Therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours Of men's impoffibilities, have preserv'd thee. Glo. I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear Enough, enough, and, die. That thing you speak of, The fiend, the friend: he led me to that place. Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts.-But who comes here? Enter LEAR, fantastically dreffed up with flowers. The fafer fenfe will ne'er accommodate His mafter thus. Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the king himself. Edg. O thou fide-piercing fight! Lear. Nature's above art in that refpect.-There's your prefs-money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard.-Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted cheese will do't.-There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant.— Bring up the brown bills.-O, well flown, bird!—i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh!-Give the word. Edg. Sweet marjoram. Lear. Pafs. Glo. I know that voice. Lear. Lear. Ha! Goneril!-with a white beard!-They flatter'd me like a dog; and told me, I had white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there. To fay ay, and no, to every thing I faid!-Ay and no too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found them, there I smelt them out. Go to, they are not men o' their words: they told me I was every thing; 'tis a lie; I am not agueproof. Glo. The trick of that voice I do well remember: Is't not the king? Lear. Ay, every inch a king : When I do ftare, fee, how the fubject quakes. Thou shalt not die: Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly Let copulation thrive, for Glofter's bastard fon To't, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack foldiers.- Whofe face between her forks prefageth fnow; The fitchew, nor the foiled horfe, goes to't With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, Though women all above: But to the girdle do the gods inherit, Beneath is all the fiends'; there's hell, there's darkness, There is the fulphurous pit, burning, fcalding, stench, confumption; |