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going, to a moft hafty preparation ; we are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister; farewell, my lord of Glo'ster.

Enter Steward. How now? Where's the King ?

Stew. My lord of Glo'ster has convey'd him hence,
Some five or fix-and-thirty of his knights
Are gone with him tow'rd Dover! where they boast
To have well-armed friends.

Cornw. Get horses for your mistress.
Gon. Farewell, sweet lord and fifter.

[Exeunt Gon, and Edm. Cornw. Edmund, farewell.--Go seek the traitor

Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us:
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice ; yet our pow'r
Shall do a court'sy to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not controul.

Enter Glocester, brought in by Servants,
Who's there? the traitor ?

Regan. 'Tis he. Thank Heaven, he's ta'en
Cornw. Bind fast his arms.

Gloc. What mean your graces ?
You are my guests. Do me no foul play, friends,
Cornw. Bind him, I say.

[They bind him.


Regan. Hard, hard: Oh, traitor! thou shalt find
Cornw. Come, Sir, what letters had you late

from France ?
And what confed'racy have you with the traitors,
Late footed in the kingdom ?

Regan. To whose hands
Have you sent the lunatick king ? speak.

Cornw. Where halt thou sent the king ?
Gloc. To Dover.

Regan. Wherefore to Dover ?
Waft thou not charg'd, at peril
Cornw. Wherefore to Dover? let him first answer

Gloc. I am tied to th' ftake, and I must stand the

Regan. Wherefore to Dover ?

Gloc. Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce fifter
Carve his anointed flesh ; but I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.
Cornw. See't thou shalt never ; flaves, perform

your work ;
Out with those treacherous eyes; dispatch, I fay!

[Exeunt Gloc. and Serv. If thou seest vengeance Gloc. [without] He that will think to live 'till he be old

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Give me some help.-Oh, cruel! oh! ye gods.

Serv. Hold, hold, ny lord! I bar your cruelty; I cannot love your safety, and give way To such a barbarous practice.

Cornw. Ah, my villain !

Sery. I have been your servant from my infancy,
But better service have I never done you
Than with this boldness

Cornw. Take thy death, slave.
Serv. Nay then, revenge!

[Fight. Regan. Help here ! are you not hurt, my lord ?

Re-enter Glocester and Servants.
Gloc. All dark and comfortles.. Where's my son

Edmund ?
Edmund, enkindle all the fparks of nature
To quit this horrid act.

Regan. Out, treacherous villain!
Thou call'st on him that hates thee: It was he
That broach'd thy treasons to us.

Gloc. Oh, my follies !
Then Edgar was abus'd. Kind gods, forgive
Me that, and prosper him!

Regan. Go, thrust him out
At gates, and let him fmell his way to Dover.

[Exeunt with Gloc,


How is't, my lord ? how look you?

Cornw. I have receiv'd a hurt: follow me, lady Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave Upon the dunghill.-Regan, I bleed apace.

. Untimely comes this hurt.

Give me your arm.
[Exit, led by Regan.

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Y Thane te in contemnéd and Hatter'd. To be

ET better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be

The lowest, most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance; lives not in fear.
The lamentable change is from the best ;
The worst returns to comfort.

Enter Glocefter, led by an Old Man.
Who comes here?
My father poorly led? World, world! oh, world!
But that thy strange mutations make us wait thee,

Life would not yield to age.
Old Man. Oh, my good lord, I have been your

tenant, And your father's tenant, these fourscore years.

Gloc. Away, get thee away: good friend, be gone; Thy comforts can do me no good at all, Thee they may hurt.

Old Man. You cannot see your way.

Gloc. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes: I stumbled when I saw. Oh, dear son Edgar, Might I but live to see thee in my touch, I'd say, I had.eyes again!

Old Man. How now ? who's there?

Edgar. Oh,gods;whois’t can say, I'm at the worst? I'm worse, than e'er I was.

Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom.
Gloc. Is it a beggar-man?
Old Man. Madman, and beggar too.

Gloc. He has some reason, elfe he could not beg.
I'th' last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
Which made me think a man, a worm. My son
Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him. I've heard more

since. As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods; They kill us for their sport.


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