Stew. Slave, thou hast slain me:-Villain, take my purse; If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body; And give the letters, which thou find'st about me, [Dies. Edg. I know thee well: A serviceable villain; As duteous to the vices of thy mistress, As badness would desire. Glo. What, is he dead? Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you. Let's see his pockets: these letters, that he speaks of, May be my friends.-He's dead; I am only sorry [reads.] Let our reciprocal vows be remember'd. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the loath'd warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour. Your wife, (so I would say,) and your affectionate servant, GONERIL. O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!- And the exchange, my brother!-Here, in the sands, Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified Of murderous lechers: and, in the mature time, With this ungracious paper strike the sight [Exit Edgar, dragging out the body. Glo. The king is mad: How stiff is my vile sense, That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract: The knowledge of themselves. Edg. Re-enter EDGAR. Give me your hand: [Exeunt. Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. SCENE VII. A Tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed, asleep; Physician, Gentleman, and others, attending: Enter CORDELIA and KENT. Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall 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'erpay'd. All my reports go with the modest truth; Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so. Yet to be known, shortens my made intent: Cor. Then be it so, my good lord.-How does the king? Phys. Madam, sleeps still. Cor. O you kind gods, [to the Physician. Cure this great breach in his abused nature! Phys. I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd? Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep, We put fresh garments on him. Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; I doubt not of his temperance. Cor. Very well. Phys. Please you, draw near.-Louder the mu sick there. Cor. O my dear father! Restoration, hang |