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Edgar. Alas, he's fenfible that I was wrong'd,
And should I own myself, his tender heart
Would break betwixt extremes of grief and joy.
Bad is the trade must play the fool to forrow,
Ang’ring itself and others.--Bless thee, master!

Gloc. Is that the naked fellow ?
Old Man. Ay, my lord.

Gloc. Get thee away : If, for my fake,
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain
I'th' way tow'rd Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring fome covering for this naked wretch,
Whom I'll entreat to lead me.

Old Man. Alack, Sir, he is mad.
Gloc. 'Tis the time's plague when madmen lead

the blind :
Do as I bid, or rather do thy pleasure ;
Above the rest, begone.

Old Man. I'll bring him the best parrel that I have,
Come on't what will.

[Exit.
Gloc. Sirrah, naked fellow !
Edgar. Poor Tom's a-cold. I cannot fool it

further.
Gloc. Come hither, fellow.

Edgar. And yet I must!
Blefs thy sweet eyes, they bleed.
Gloe. Know'st thou the way to Dover ?

Edgar.

Edgar. Both stile and gate, horse-way and footpath. Poor Tom hath been scar'd out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man, from the foul fiend. Gloc. Here, take this purse, thou whom the

Heavens' plagues
Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched,
Makes thee the happier: Heavens deal so still.
Dost thou know Dover?

Edgar. Ay, master.

Gloc. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully on the confined deep :
Bring me but to the very brink of it,
And I'll repair the misery thou doft bear,
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no leading need.

Edgar. Give me thy arm :
Poor Tom shall lead thee.

[Exeunt.

Scene, the Duke of Albany's palace.

Enter Gönerill and Edmund.
Gon. Welcome, my lord. I marvel, our mild

husband
Not met us on the way.

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Stew. Madam, within; but never man fo chang'd: I told him of the army that was landed; He smild at it. I told him you were coming ; His answer was, The worse. Of Glo'ster's treachery, And of the loyal service of his son, When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot. What moft he should dislike, feems pleasant to him; What like, offenfive.

Gon. Then shall you go no further. [To Edm. It is the cowish terror of his fpirit, That dares not undertake. Back, Edmund, to my

brother ; Haften his musters, and conduct his powers. I must change arms at home, and give the diftaff Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant Shall pass between us : You ere long shall bear, If you dare venture on your own behalf, A mistress's command. Conceive, and fare thee

well. Edn. Yours in the ranks of death.

Gon. My most dear Glo'ster! [Exit Edm. Oh, the strange difference of man and man! To thee a woman's services are due, My fool usurps my duty.

Stew. Madam, here comes my lord. [Exit.

Enter

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Enter Albany:
Alb. Oh, Gonerill, what have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform’d?
A father and a gracious aged man,
Most barb'rous, most degen’rate, have you madded.
How could my brother suffer you to do it,
A man, a prince by him so benefited ?

Gon. Milk-liver'd man !
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Where's thy drum ?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land,
Whilft thou, a moral fool, fit'st still, and criest,
« Alack! why does he fo?"
Alb. Thou chang’d, and self-converted thing!

for shame,
Be-monfter not thy feature.

Enter Messenger
Mej. Oh, my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's

dead;
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The earl of Glo'ster's eyes.

Alb. Glo'ster's eyes !
Mell. A servant, that he bred, thrilld with

remorse,
Oppos’d the horrid act; bending his sword

Against

Against his master: Who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them felld him dead :
But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath pluck'd him after.

Alb. This shews You are above,
You Justicers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can 'venge! But oh, poor Glo'ster!
Where was his fon when they did take his eyes?

Mef. Come with my lady hither.
Alb. He's not here.
Meff. No, my good lord; he is return'd again.
Alb. Knows he the wickedness?
Mel. Ay, my good lord ; 'twas he inform’d

against him, And quit the house of purpose, that their punish

ment Might have the freer course.

Alb. Glo'ster, I live To thank thee for the love thou shew'dst the king, And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend, Tell me what more thou know'st. [Going, returns. See thyself, Gonerill! Proper deformity shews not in the fiend, So horrid as in woman.

[Exe. Alb. and Mel: Gon. Oh, vain fool ! That haft not in thy brows an eye discerning VOL. III.

N

Thine

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