What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence

As pearls from diamonds dropped. In brief,

Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved

If all could so become it.

KENT Made she no verbal question?

⌈IRST⌉ ENTLEMAN

Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of ‘father’

Pantingly forth as if it pressed her heart,

Cried ‘Sisters, sisters, shame of ladies, sisters,

Kent, father, sisters, what, i‘th’ storm, i’th’ night,

Let piety not be believed!’ There she shook

The holy water from her heavenly eyes

And clamour mastered, then away she started

To deal with grief alone.

KENT It is the stars,

The stars above us govern our conditions,

Else one self mate and make could not beget

Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?

⌈IRST⌉ ENTLEMAN No.

KENT

Was this before the King returned?

⌈IRST⌉ ENTLEMAN No, since.

KENT

Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear’s i’th’ town,

Who sometime in his better tune remembers

What we are come about, and by no means

Will yield to see his daughter.

⌈IRST⌉ NTLEMAN Why, good sir?

KENT

A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,

That stripped her from his benediction, turned her

To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters—these things sting

His mind so venomously that burning shame

Detains him from Cordelia.

⌈IRST⌉ ENTLEMAN Alack, poor gentleman!

KENT

Of Albany’s and Cornwall’s powers you heard not?

⌈IRST⌉ ENTLEMAN ’Tis so; they are afoot.

KENT

Well, sir, I’ll bring you to our master Lear,

And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause

Will in concealment wrap me up a while.

When I am known aright you shall not grieve

Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you go

Along with me. Exeunt

Sc. 18 Enter Queen Cordelia, a Doctor, and others

CORDELIA

Alack, ’tis he! Why, he was met even now,

As mad as the racked sea, singing aloud,

Crowned with rank fumitor and furrow-weeds,

With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,

Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow

In our sustaining corn. The centuries send forth.

Search every acre in the high-grown field,

And bring him to our eye.

⌈Exit one or more⌉

What can man’s wisdom

In the restoring his bereaved sense,

He that can help him

Take all my outward worth.

DOCTOR There is means, madam.

Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,

The which he lacks. That to provoke in him

Are many simples operative, whose power

Will close the eye of anguish.

CORDELIA All blest secrets,

All you unpublished virtues of the earth,

Spring with my tears, be aidant and remediate

In the good man’s distress!—Seek, seek for him,

Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life

That wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER News, madam.

The British powers are marching hitherward.

CORDELIA

’Tis known before; our preparation stands

In expectation of them.—O dear father,

It is thy business that I go about;

Therefore great France

My mourning and important tears hath pitied.

No blown ambition doth our arms incite,

But love, dear love, and our aged father’s right.

Soon may I hear and see him! Exeunt

Sc. 19 Enter Regan and Oswald, Gonoril’s steward

REGAN

But are my brother’s powers set forth?

OSWALD Ay, madam.

REGAN

Himself in person?

OSWALD Madam, with much ado.

Your sister is the better soldier.

REGAN

Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?

OSWALD No, madam.

REGAN

What might import my sister’s letters to him?

OSWALD I know not, lady.

REGAN

Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.

It was great ignorance, Gloucester’s eyes being out,

To let him live. Where he arrives he moves

All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone,

In pity of his misery, to dispatch

His ‘nighted life, moreover to descry

The strength o’th’ army.

OSWALD

I must needs after with my letters, madam.

REGAN

Our troop sets forth tomorrow. Stay with us.

The ways are dangerous.

OSWALD I may not, madam.

My lady charged my duty in this business.

REGAN

Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you

Transport her purposes by word? Belike—

Something, I know not what. I’ll love thee much:

Let me unseal the letter.

OSWALD Madam, I’d rather—

REGAN

I know your lady does not love her husband.

I am sure of that, and at her late being here

She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks

To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.

OSWALD I, madam?

REGAN

I speak in understanding, for I know’t.

Therefore I do advise you take this note.

My lord is dead. Edmund and I have talked,

And more convenient is he for my hand

Than for your lady’s. You may gather more.

If you do find him, pray you give him this,

And when your mistress hears thus much from you,

I pray desire her call her wisdom to her.

So, farewell.

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,