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With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Phys: There are means, Madam :
Cor. All blest secrets,
Enter a Messenger.
Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands
which (moke has, of making the eyes water. And as to the growth of it, Pliny tells us particularly that it springs up in gardens and fields of barley ; ( Nafcitur in bortis et segetibus bordeaceis) which our author here calls, in our sustaining corn-1 obferve, in Chaucer it is written femetere; by a corruption either of the scribe, or of vulgar pronunciaton;
if of the latter, it might from thence easily Dide, in progress of time, into fenitar,
Enter Regan, and Steward.
Stew. With much ado.
Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lady at home :
Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter,
Stew. I may not, madam;
Reg. Why should the write to Edmund ? might not you
Stew. Madam, I had rather
Reg. I know, your Lady does not love her husband:
Stew. I, madam ?
Reg. I speak in understanding: you are; I know't;
Than for your Lady's: you may gather more :
Stew. ’Would I could meet him, madam, I should Mew What party
I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well.
SCENE, the Country near Dover.
Enter Glo'ster, and Edgar, as a Peasant. Glo. Hen shall I come to th' top of that same hill?
Edg. You do climb up it now. Look, how Glo. Methinks, the ground is even.
(we labour. Edg. Horrible steep. Hark, do you hear the sea?
Glo. No, truly.
Edg. Why then your other senses grow imperfect
Glo. So may it be, indeed.
Edg. You're much deceiv'd : in nothing am I chang'd,
[fearful Edg: Come on, Sir, here's the place--stand still. How And dizzy 'tis, to cart one's eyes fo low! The crows and choughs, that wing the mid-way air, Shew scarce fo gross as beeties. Half way down Hangs one, that gathers famphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head. The fisher-men, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark, Dininifh'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for fight. The murmuring surge, That on th’ unnumbred idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Leít my brain turn, and the deficient sight
ftand. Edg. Give me your hand: you're now within a foot , Of th' extream verge: for all below the moon Would I not leap upright.
Glo. Let go my hand :
Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir. (Seems to go.
my Edg. Why do I trifle thus with his despair? 'Tis done to cure it.
Glo. O you mighty gods !
Edg. Good Sir, Farewel.
Glo. Away, and let me die.
Edg. Had'st thou been aught but goss’mer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thou’d'ít shiver'd like an egg : but thou doit breathe, Hait heavy subttance, bleed'it not; speak, art found ? Ten malts at each make not the altitude, (47)
Which !17) Ten wafs attach'd-] This is Mr. Pope's reading; but I kaw not from what authority. Mr. Rowe gave it us, ten masts at
Which thou hast perpendicularly fall’n.
Glo. But have I fall'n or no?
Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn ! Look up a height, the shrill-gorg'd Lark so far Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up.
Glo. Alack, I have no eyes.
Edg. Give me your arm.
Glo. Too well, too well.
Edg. Tsis is above all ftrangeness.
Gle. A poor unfortunate beggar.
Glo. I do remember now : henceforth I'll bear
Enter Lear, dress'd madly with flowers.
t--a poor, dragging expreffion. All the old copies read, as I have restor’d in the text, ten mafts at each.
'Tis certain, 'tis a boid phrase, but I dare warrant, it was our author's; and means ten mális placed at the extremity of each other.
(48) Tbirk, that the deareft gods-- This too is Mr. Pope's reading. All the authentic copies have it, cleareft gods; i. e. open, and righteo ous, in their dealings. So, our author again, in his Timon ; Roots, ye clear beav'ns!