Lest that th’infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
EDGAR ‘Chill not let go, sir, without vurther ’cagion.
OSWALD Let go, slave, or thou diest.
EDGAR Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pass. An ‘chud ha’ been swaggered out of my life, ’twould not ha’ been so long as ‘tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’old man. Keep out, ‘che vor’ ye, or I’s’ try whether your costard or my baton be the harder; I’ll be plain with you.
OSWALD Out, dunghill!
EDGAR ’Chill pick your teeth, sir. Come, no matter vor your foins.
⌈Edgar knocks him down⌉
OSWALD
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
To Edmond, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out
Upon the English party. O untimely death! Death!
He dies
EDGAR
I know thee well—a serviceable villain,
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire.
GLOUCESTER What, is he dead?
EDGAR Sit you down, father. Rest you.
Gloucester sits
Let’s see these pockets. The letters that he speaks of
May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorrow
He had no other deathsman. Let us see.
Leave, gentle wax, and manners; blame us not.
To know our enemies’ minds we rip their hearts;
Their papers is more lawful.
He reads the letter
’Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. 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 jail, from the loathed
warmth whereof, deliver me, and supply the place for
your labour.
Your—wife, so I would say,—affectionate
servant, and for you her own for venture,
Goneril.’
O indistinguished space of woman’s will—
A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life,
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
Of the death-practised Duke. For him ’tis well
That of thy death and business I can tell.
⌈Exit with the body⌉
GLOUCESTER
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 distraught,
So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs,
Drum afar off
And woes by wrong imaginations lose
The knowledge of themselves.
⌈Enter Edgar⌉
EDGAR
Give me your hand.
Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend.
Exit Edgar guiding Gloucester
4.6 Enter Queen Cordelia, the Earl of Kent disguised, and ⌈the First⌉ Gentleman
CORDELIA
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 acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth,
Nor more, nor clipped, but so.
CORDELIA
Be better suited.
These weeds are memories of those worser hours.
I prithee put them off.
KENT Pardon, dear madam.
Yet to be known shortens my made intent.
My boon I make it that you know me not
Till time and I think meet.
CORDELIA
Then be’t so, my good lord.—
How does the King?
⌈FIRST⌉GENTLEMAN Madam, sleeps still.
CORDELIA
O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature;
Th’untuned and jarring senses O wind up
Of this child-changed father!
⌈FIRST⌉GENTLEMAN
So please your majesty
That we may wake the King? He hath slept long.
CORDELIA
Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed
I’th’ sway of your own will. Is he arrayed?
⌈FIRST⌉GENTLEMAN
Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep
We put fresh garments on him.
Enter King Lear asleep, in a chair carried by servants
Be by, good madam, when we do awake him.
I doubt not of his temperance.
CORDELIA
O my dear father, restoration hang
Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
KENT
Kind and dear princess!
CORDELIA
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face
To be opposed against the warring winds?
Mine enemy’s dog, though he had bit me, should
have stood
That night against my fire. And 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! (To the Gentleman) He wakes.
Speak to him.
⌈FIRST⌉GENTLEMAN Madam, do you; ’tis fittest.
CORDELIA (to Lear)
How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
LEAR
You do me wrong to take me out o’th’ 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.
CORDELIA
Sir, do you know me?
LEAR
You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die?
CORDELIA (to the Gentleman) Still, still far wide!
⌈FIRST
He’s scarce awake. Let him alone a while.
LEAR
Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abused. I should ev’n die with pity