With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, But to the girdle do the gods inherit, Beneath is all the fiends'; there's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption.-Fie, fie, fie! pah; pah! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: there's money for thee. Glos. O, let me kiss that hand! Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. world Shall so wear out to naught.-Dost thou know me? Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid; I'll not love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the penning of it. Glos. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. Edg. I would not take this from report ;—it is, And my heart breaks at it. Lear. Read. Glos. What, with the case of eyes? Lear. O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse e? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light: yet you see how this world goes. Glos. I see it feelingly. Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes with no eyes: look with thine ears. See how yon justice rails upon yon simple thief. Hark, in thine ear: change places; and, handydandy, which is the justice, which is the thief?— Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? Glos. Ay, sir. Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority; a dog's obeyed in office. Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand: Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks; To see the things thou dost not.-Now, now, now, now: Pull off my boots :-harder, harder; so. Edg. O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness! Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster: me. Glos. 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?-- A troop of horse with felt: I'll put it in proof; Enter GENTLEMAN, with Attendants. Gen. O, here he is; lay hand upon Your most dear daughter him.-Sir, Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even The natural fool of fortune.-Use me well; You shall have ransom. I am cut to the brains. Gen. Let me have a surgeon: You shall have any thing. Lear. No seconds? All myself? Why, this would make a man a man of salt,1 To use his eyes for garden water-pots, Ay, and for laying autumn's dust. Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What? I will be jovial; come, come; I am a king, Gen. You are a royal one, and we obey you. Lear. Then there's life in it. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. [Exit, running; Attendants follow. Gen. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch; Past speaking of in a king!-Thou hast one daughter, Who redeems Nature from the general curse Which twain have brought her to. Edg. Hail, gentle sir. Gen. Sir, speed you: what's your will? Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? Gen. Most sure, and vulgar: every one hears that, Which can distinguish sound. Edg. How near's the other army y? But, by your favor, Gen. Near, and on speedy foot; the main descry Stands on the hourly thought.1 The main body is expected to be descried every hour. Glos. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me: 1 Let not my worser spirit 1 tempt me again To die before you please! Edg. Well pray you, father. Glos. Now, good sir, what are you? Edg. A most poor man, made lame by Fortune's blows; Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand; I'll lead you to some biding. Glos. Hearty thanks: The bounty and the benizon 2 of heaven To boot, and boot! 3 Enter STEWARD. Stew. A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh To raise my fortunes.-Thou old unhappy traitor, Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence; Lest that the infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. |