SCENE II. A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter Edmund. Edm. The storm is in our louder rev'lings drown'd. Thus would I reign, could I but mount a throne. The riots of these proud imperial sisters Already have impos'd the galling yoke Of taxes, and hard impositions, on The drudging peasant's neck, who bellows out His loud complaints in vain. -Triumphant queens ! With what assurance do they tread the crowd! Oh! for a taste of such majestic beauty, Which none but my hot veins are fit t'engage; Nor are my wishes desp'rate; for ev'n now, During the banquet, I observ'd their glances Shot thick at me; and, as they left the room, Each cast, by stealth, a kind inviting smile, The happy earnest ha Two Pages, from several Entrances, deliver him each a Letter, and exeunt. [Reads.] Where merit is so transparent, not to behold it uere blindness, and not to reward it, ingratitude. Enough! blind and ungrateful should I be, Now for the second letter. GONERIL. [Reads.] If modesty be not your enemy, doubt not to find me your friend. REGAN. E Here Gloster comes, Excellent sybil! O my glowing blood! And pant for the possession. With business on his brow; be hush'd, my joys. Enter Gloster. Glost. I come to seek thee, Edmund, to impart a business of importance. I know thy loyal heart is touched to see the cruelty of these ungrateful daughters against our royal master. Edm. Most savage and unnatural! Glost. This change in the state sits uneasy. The commons repine aloud at their female tyrants; already they cry out for the re-instalment of their good old king, whose injuries, I fear, will inflame them into mutiny. Edm. 'Tis to be hop'd, not fear'd. Glost. Thou hast it, boy; tis to be hop'd indeed. On me they cast their eyes, and hourly court me To lead them on; and, whilst this head is mine, I'm theirs. A little covert craft, my boy, And then for open action; 'twill be employment Worthy such honest daring souls as thine. Thou, Edmund, art my trusty emissary. Haste on the spur, at the first break of day, With these dispatches to the duke of Cambray. [Gives him Letters. You know what mortal feuds have always flam'd [Exit Gloster. Edm. Yes, credulous old man, The chol'ric duke gives sentence on thy life; To glut my pleasures, that till now have starv'd. [Retires. Gloster returns, followed by Cordelia and AranThe, poorly dressed ;—Edmund observing at a distance. (Kneels. Cord. Turn, Gloster, turn; by all the sacred pow'rs, I do conjure you give my griefs a hearing: You must, you shall, nay, I am sure you will; For you were always styl'd the just and good. Glost. What wouldst thou, princess? Rise, and speak thy griefs. Cord. Nay, you shall promise to redress them too, Or here I'll kneel for ever. I entreat Thy succour for a father, and a king, An injur'd father, and an injur'd king. Edm. O charming sorrow! How her tears adorn her! Glost. Consider, princess, [Raises her. For whom thou begg'st, 'tis for the king that wrong'd thee. Cord. O name not that; he did not, could not, wrong me. Nay, muse not, Gloster; for it is too likely And gone distracted with his savage wrongs. Edm. I'll gaze no more;--and yet my eyes are charm'd. Cord. Or, what if it be worse? Can there be worse? Ah, 'tis too probable, this furious night Has pierc'd his tender body; the bleak winds And cold rain chill'd, or lightning struck, him dead; If it be so, your promise is discharg'd, And I have only one poor boon to beg; That you'd convey me to his breathless trunk, To wash his clay-smear'd cheeks, and die beside him. Enough t'atone for both thy sisters' crimes; We shall succeed, and suddenly. [Exit Gloster. Cord. Despatch, Aranthe; Cord. I cannot dread the furies in this case. Cord. Therefore no shelter for the king, And we'll be shining proofs that they can dare For piety as much. Blow winds, and lightnings fall; Bold in my virgin innocence I'll fly, My royal father to relieve, or die. [Thunder. [Exeunt Cordelia and Aranthe. Edm. In this disguise, we'll instantly I'll bribe two ruffians shall at distance follow, With these dispatches: then to the field, SCENE III. [Exit. Another Part of the Heath.—Rain—Thunder—Light ning. Enter King Lear and Kent. Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good, my lord, enter: The tyranny of this open night's too rough For nature to endure. Lear. Let me alone. Kent. Good my lord, enter. Lear. Wilt break my heart? Kent. I'd rather break mine own. Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee; But where the greater malady is fix'd, The lesser is scarce felt: The tempest in my mind Does from my senses take all feeling else, |