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life, it would not have been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. -Nay, an' thou com'st near th' old man, l'st try whether
your costard or my ballow be th' harder. Osw. Out, dunghill!
Edg. Chill pick your teeth, zir: come, no matter vor your foines,
[Edgar knocks him down. Osw. Slave, thou hast slain me; oh! untimely death !
[Dies. Edg. I know thee well, a serviceable villain. As duteous to the vices of thy mistress, As lust could wish.
Glost. What? Is he dead?
Edg. This is a letter carrier, and may have Some papers of intelligence, that may stand Our party in good stead to know. -What's here?
[Takes a Letter out of his Pocket, and reads it.
To Edmund Earl of Gloster. Let our mutual loves be remembered : : you
many opportunities to cut Albany off If he return the conqueror, then I am still a prisoner, and his bed my gaol ; from the loathed warmth of which deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.
GONERIL. A plot upon the duke her husband's life, And the exchange my brother!~ In time and place convenient I'll produce These letters to the sight of th' injur’d duke, As best sball serve our purpose.
(A March at a Distance. Come, your hand; Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum : Come, sir, I will bestow you with a friend. (Exeunt.
Cord. His sleep is sound, and may have good effect To cure his jarring senses, and repair This breach of nature.
Phys. We have employ'd the utmost pow'r of art, And this deep rest will perfect our design.
Cord. O Regan! Goneril! Inhuman sisters ! Had he not been your father, these white hairs Had challeng'd sure some pity! Was this a face To be expos'd against the jarring winds ? My enemy's dog, though he had bit me, should Have stood that night against my fire.—He wakes ;
speak to him. Phys. Madam, do you; 'tis fittest. Cord. How does my royal lord? How fares your
majesty ? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o’th’ grave. Cord. Speak to me, sir; who am I?
Lear. You are a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Cord. Sir, do you know me?
Lear. You are a spirit, I know; when did you'die ?
more compos'd. Lear. Where have I been: Where am I? Fair day.
Cord. O, look upon me, sir,
Lear. Pray, do not mock me;
me, Ye mighty pow'rs, I ne'er complain'd till now! Lear. Methinks, I should know you, and know this
Cord. O, my dear, dear father!
Cord. O, pity, sir, a bleeding heart, and cease This killing language.
Lear. Tell me, friends, where am I?
Phys. Be comforted, good madam; for the violence
foolish. Forget and forgive. [The PHYSICIAN leads off King LEAR, followed
by the Two Knights. Cord. The gods restore you [A distant March. Hark, I hear afar The beaten drum. Old Kent's a man of's word. Oh! for an arm Like the fierce thunderer's, when the earth-born sons Storm'd heav'n, to fight this injur'd father's battle! That I could shift my sex, and dye me deep In his opposer's blood ? But, as I may, With women's weapons, piety and pray’rs, I'll aid his cause. You never-erring gods, Fight on his side, and thunder on his foes Such tempests, as his poor aged head sustain'd! Your image suffers when a monarch bleeds; 'Tis your own cause ; for that your succours bring; Revenge yourselves, and right an injur'd king.
A Valley near the Field of Battle.
Enter EDGAR and GLOSTER. Edg. Here, sir, take you the shadow of this tree For your good host; pray that the right may thrive:
KING LEAR asleep, with his Head on CORDELIA's
Lap. Cord. What toils, thou wretched king, hast thou
endur'd, To make thee draw, in chains, a sleep so sound ! Thy better angel charm thy ravish'd mind With fancied freedom! Peace is us'd to lodge On cottage straw; thou hast the beggar's bed ; Therefore shouldst have the beggar's careless
thought.And now, my Edgar, I remember thee : What fate has seiz'd thee in this general wreck I know not, but I know thou must be wretched, Because Cordelia holds thee dear.O gods ! a sudden gloom o’erwhelms me, and the
image Of death o'erspreads the place.-Ha! who are these? Enter CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD, another OFFICER,
and SOLDIERS with Cords. Capt. Now, sirs, despatch ; already you are paid In part, the best of your reward's to come. Lear. Charge, charge upon their flank; their left
wing halts; Push, push the battle, and the day's our own; Their ranks are broken ; down, down with Albany.Who holds my hands 1-0, thou deceiving sleep, I was this very minute on the chase, And now a pris'ner here !—What mean the slaves ? You will not murder me?