For Glofter's Baftard Son was kinder to his Father,
Than my Daughters got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't Luxury pell-mell, for I lack Soldiers.

Behold yon fimpering Dame, whofe face, between her Forks, prefages Snow; that minces Virtue, and do's shake the Head to hear of Pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor the foyled Horse goes to't with a more riotous Appetite: down from the waste they are Centaures, 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, Scalding, Stench, Confumption: Fie, fie, fie; pah, pah: Give me an Ounce of Civet; good Apothecary fweeten my Imagination: There's Mony for thee. Glo. O let me kifs that Hand.

Lear. Let me wipe it firft, it fmells of Mortality. Glo. O ruin'd piece of Nature, this great World. Shall fo wear out to naught. Do'st thou know me?

Lear. I remember thine Eyes well enough: do'ft thou fquiny at me? No, do thy worft blind Cupid, I'll not love. Read thou this challenge, mark but the penning of it. Glo. Were all thy Letters Suns, I could not fee one. Edg. I would not take this from report;

It is, and my Heart breaks at it.

Lear. Read.

Glo. What, with this Cafe of Eyes?

Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No Eyes in your Head, nor no Mony in your Purfe? Your Eyes are in heavy cafe, your Purse in a light, yet you fee how this World goes. Glo. I fee it feelingly.

Lear. What, art mad? A Man may fee how this World goes, with no Eyes. Look with thine Ears: See how yond Justice rails upon yond fimple Thief. Hark in thine Ear: Change places, and Handy-dandy, which is the Juftice, which is the Thief: Thou haft feen a Farmer's Dog bark at a Beggar?

Glo. Ay Sir.

Lear. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou might'ft behold the great image of Authority, a Dog's obey'd in Office. Thou, Rafcal Beadle, hold thy bloody Hand why do'st thou lafh that Whore? Strip thy own Back, thou hotly luft'ft to ufe her in that kind, for which

thou

thou whip'ft her. The Ufurer hangs the Cozener.
Thorough tatter'd Cloaths, great Vices do appear;
Robes, and furr'd Gowns hide all. Place Sins with Gold,
And the ftrong Lance of Juftice, hurtlefs breaks :
Arm it in Rags, and Pigmy's Straw doth pierce it.
None does offend, none, I fay none, I'll able 'em;
Take that of me my Friend, who have the power
To feal the Accufer's lips. Get thee Glass Eyes,
And like a fcurvy Politician, feem

To fee the things thou do'ft not.

Now, now, now, now. Pull off my Boots: harder, harder, fo. Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt,

Reason in Madnels.

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my Eyes.
I know thee well enough, thy name is Glofter;
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
Thou know'ft, the first time that we fmell the Air
We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Mark-
Glo. Alack, alack, the day.

Lear. When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great Stage of Fools. This a good block!
It were a delicate Stratagem to fhooe

A Troop of Horfe with felt: I'll put't in proof,
And when I have ftoli'n upon these Son-in-Laws;
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.

Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants.
Gent. O here he is, lay hand upon him; Sir,
You most dear Daughter

Lear. No refcue? what, a Prifoner? I am even The natural Fool of fortune. Ufe me well, You shall have ranfom. Let me have Surgeons, I am cut to th' Brains.

Gent. You shall have any thing.

Lear. No Seconds? All my felf?

Why, this would make a Man, a Man of Salt;

To ufe his Eyes for Garden-water-pots. I will die bravely,
Like a fmug Bridegroom. What? I will be Jovial:
Come, come, I am a King. Mafters, know you that?
Gent, You are a Royal one, and we obey you.
Lear. Then there's life in't. Come, and you get it,

You shall get it by running: Sa, fa, fa, fa..

[Exit.

Gent.

Gent. A fight moft pitiful in the meaneft wretch, Paft fpeaking of in a King. Thou haft a Daughter Who redeems Nature from the general curse, Which twain have brought her to.

Edg. Hail, gentle Sir.

Gent. Sir, fpeed you: what's your will?

Edg. Do you hear ought, Sir, of a Battel toward.
Gent. Moft fure, and vulgar:

Every one hears that, which can distinguish found.
Edg. But by your favour:

How near's the other Army?,

Gent. Near, and on fpeedy foot: the main difcry Stands on the hourly thought.

Edg. I thank you, Sir, that's all.

Gent. Though that the Queen on special caufe is here, Her Army is mov'd on.

Edg. I thank you, Sir.

Glo. You ever gentle gods, take my breath from me, Let not my worfer Spirit tempt me again

To die before you please.

Edg. Well pray you, Father.

Glo. Now good Sir, what are you?

[Exit.

Edg. A moft poor Man, made tame to Fortune's blows, Who, by the Art of known, and feeling forrows, Am pregnant to good Pity. Give me your hand, I'll lead you to fome biding.

Glo. Hearty thanks;

The bounty, and the benizon of Heav'n

To boot, and boot.

Enter Steward.

Stew. A proclaim'd prize; moft happy;

That Eyeless Head of thine, was firft fram'd flesh
To raise my Fortunes. Thou old, unhappy Traitor,
Briefly thy felf remember: the Sword is out
That muft deftroy thee.

Glo. Now let thy friendly hand

Put ftrength enough to't.

Stew. Wherefore, bold Peafant,

Dar'st thou fupport a publish'd Traitor? hence,
Left that th' infection of his Fortune take

Like hold on thee. Let go his Arm.

Edg.

Edg. Chill not let go Zir, Without vurther 'cafion.

Stew. Let go, Slave, or thou dy'ft.

Edg. Good Gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pafs and 'chud ha' been zwagger'd out of my Life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis, by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old Man: Keep out che vor'ye, or ice try whether your Coftard, or my Ballow be the harder; chill be plain with you.

Stew. Out Dunghil.

า

Edg. Child pick your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor your foyns. [Edgar knocks him down. Stew. Slave thou haft flain me: Villain, take my Purse; If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my Body,

And give the Letters which thou find❜ft about me,

To Edmund Earl of Glofter: feek him out

Upon the English Party. Oh untimely death, death-- [Dies. Edg. I know thee well, a ferviceable Villain;

As duteous to the Vices of thy Mistress,

As badnefs would defire.

Glo, What, is he dead?

Edg. Sit you down, Father: reft you.

Let's fee thefe Pockets; the Letters that he speaks of
May be my
Friends he's dead; I am only forry

He had no other Deathfman. Let us fee

By your leave, gentle wax, and manners blame us not,
To know our Enemies minds, we rip their Hearts,
Their Papers are more lawful.

LE

Reads the Letter.

ET our reciprocal Vows be remembred. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done. If he return the Conqueror, then am I the Prifoner, and his Bed, my Gaol, from the loathed warmth whereof, deliver me, and Supply the place of our Labour.

Your (Wife, So I would say) affectionate

Oh indiftinguish'd space of Woman's will!
A plot upon her virtuous Husband's Life,

And the exchange my Brother: here, in the Sands

Thee

Thee I'll rake up, the Poft unfanctified
Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time,
With this ungracious Paper ftrike the fight
Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well,
That of thy death, and business, I can tell.
Glo. The King is mad; how ftiffis my vile Senfe
That Iftand up, and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge Sorrows? Better I were distract,
So fhould my Thoughts be fever'd from my

And woes, by wrong imaginations, lofe
The Knowledge of themfelves.
Edg. Give me your hand:

Griefs,

[Drum afar off.

Far off methinks I hear the beaten Drum.
Come, Father, I'll beftow you with a Friend.

SCENE VI. A Chamber:

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.

[Exeunti

Cor. O thou good Kent, how fhall I live and work
To match thy goodness? My Life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd Madam is o'erpaid,
All my reports go with the modeft truth,
Nor more, nor clipt, but fo.

Cor. Be better fuited,

Thefe weeds are memories of thofe worfer hours:

I prethee put them off.

Kent. Pardon, dear Madam,

Yet to be known fhortens my made intent,

My boon I make it, that you know me noty 'Till time, and I think meet.

Cor. Then be't fo my good Lord:

How do's the King?

Gent. Madam, fleeps ftill.

Cor. O you kind gods!

Cure this great breach in his abufed Nature,
Th' untun'd and jarring Senfes, O wind up,
Of this Child-changed Father.

VOL. V.

Hh

Gent