A Tent in the French Camp. |
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Enter CORDELIA, KENT, Doctor, and Gentleman. |
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'erpaid. |
All my reports go with the modest truth, |
Nor more nor clipp'd, but so. |
Cor. Be better suited: |
These weeds are memories of those worser hours: |
I prithee, put them off. |
Kent. Pardon me, 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. |
Cor. Then be 't so, my good lord.—[To the Doctor.] How does the king? |
Doc. Madam, sleeps still. |
Cor. O you kind gods, |
Cure this great breach in his abused nature! |
The untun'd and jarring senses, O! wind up |
Of this child-changed father! |
Doc. So please your majesty |
That we may wake the king? he hath slept long. |
Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed |
I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd? |
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Enter LEAR in his chair, carried by Servants. |
Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of sleep, |
We put fresh garments on him. |
Doc. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; |
I doubt not of his temperance. |
Cor. Very well. [Music. |
Doc. Please you, draw near. Louder the music there. |
Cor. 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! |
Cor. Had you not been their father, these white flakes |
Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face |
To be expos'd against the warring winds? |
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? |
In the most terrible and nimble stroke |
Of quick cross lightning? to watch—poor perdu!— |
With this thin helm? 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. He wakes; speak to him. |
Doc. 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. |
Doc. He's scarce awake; let him alone a-while. |
Lear. Where have I been? Where am I? Fair day-light? |
I am mightily abus'd. I should even 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 or 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. |
Doc. 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, Doctor, 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 Gloucester. |
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. |
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