wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
‘Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all.—He wakes; speak to him.
Doct.
Madam, do you; ‘tis fittest.
Cor.
How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
Lear.
You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave:—
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
Cor.
Sir, do you know me?
Lear.
You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?
Cor.
Still, still, far wide!
Phys.
He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.
Lear.
Where have I been? Where am I?—Fair daylight,—
I am mightily abus’d.—I should e’en die with pity,
To see another thus.—I know not what to say.—
I will not swear these are my hands:—let’s see;
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur’d
Of my condition!
Cor.
O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o’er me.—
No, sir, you must not kneel.
Lear.
Pray, do not mock me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
Cor.
And so I am. I am.
Lear.
Be your tears wet? yes, faith. I pray, weep not:
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
You have some cause, they have not.
Cor.
No cause, no cause.
Lear.
Am I in France?
Kent.
In your own kingdom, sir.
Lear.
Do not abuse me.
Phys.
Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,
You see, is kill’d in him: and yet it is danger
To make him even o’er the time he has lost.
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more
Till further settling.
Cor.
Will’t please your highness walk?
Lear.
You must bear with me:
Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.
[Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and Attendants.]
Gent.
Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
Kent.
Most certain, sir.
Gent.
Who is conductor of his people?
Kent.
As ‘tis said, the bastard son of Gloster.
Gent. They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.
Kent. Report is changeable. ‘Tis time to look about; the powers of the kingdom approach apace.
Gent.
The arbitrement is like to be bloody.
Fare you well, sir.
[Exit.]
Kent.
My point and period will be throughly wrought,
Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.
[Exit.]
ACT V.
SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces near Dover.
[Enter, with drum and colours, Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers, and others.]
Edm.
Know of the duke if his last purpose hold,
Or whether since he is advis’d by aught
To change the course: he’s full of alteration
And self-reproving:—bring his constant pleasure.
[To an Officer, who goes out.]
Reg.
Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.
Edm.
Tis to be doubted, madam.
Reg.
Now, sweet lord,
You know the goodness I intend upon you:
Tell me,—but truly,—but then speak the truth,
Do you not love my sister?
Edm.
In honour’d love.
Reg.
But have you never found my brother’s way
To the forfended place?
Edm.
That thought abuses you.
Reg.
I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
And bosom’d with her, as far as we call hers.
Edm.
No, by mine honour, madam.
Reg.
I never shall endure her: dear my lord,
Be not familiar with her.
Edm.
Fear me not:—
She and the duke her husband!
[Enter, with drum and colours, Albany, Goneril, and Soldiers.]
Gon.
[Aside.] I had rather lose the battle than that sister
Should loosen him and me.