Shakespeare's First Folio Part 609

Corn. Where hast thou sent the King?

Glou. To Douer

Reg. Wherefore to Douer?

Was't thou not charg'd at perill

Corn. Wherefore to Douer? Let him answer that

Glou. I am tyed to'th' Stake, And I must stand the Course

Reg. Wherefore to Douer?

Glou. Because I would not see thy cruell Nailes Plucke out his poore old eyes: nor thy fierce Sister, In his Annointed flesh, sticke boarish phangs.

The Sea, with such a storme as his bare head, In h.e.l.l-blacke-night indur'd, would haue buoy'd vp And quench'd the Stelled fires: Yet poore old heart, he holpe the Heauens to raine.

If Wolues had at thy Gate howl'd that sterne time, Thou should'st haue said, good Porter turne the Key: All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see The winged Vengeance ouertake such Children

Corn. See't shalt thou neuer. Fellowes hold y Chaire, Vpon these eyes of thine, Ile set my foote

Glou. He that will thinke to liue, till he be old, Giue me some helpe. - O cruell! O you G.o.ds

Reg. One side will mocke another: Th' other too

Corn. If you see vengeance

Seru. Hold your hand, my Lord: I haue seru'd you euer since I was a Childe: But better seruice haue I neuer done you, Then now to bid you hold

Reg. How now, you dogge?

Ser. If you did weare a beard vpon your chin, I'ld shake it on this quarrell. What do you meane?

Corn. My Villaine?

Seru. Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger

Reg. Giue me thy Sword. A pezant stand vp thus?

Killes him.

Ser. Oh I am slaine: my Lord, you haue one eye left To see some mischefe on him. Oh

Corn. Lest it see more, preuent it; Out vilde gelly: Where is thy l.u.s.ter now?

Glou. All darke and comfortlesse?

Where's my Sonne Edmund?

Edmund, enkindle all the sparkes of Nature To quit this horrid acte

Reg. Out treacherous Villaine, Thou call'st on him, that hates thee. It was he That made the ouerture of thy Treasons to vs: Who is too good to pitty thee

Glou. O my Follies! then Edgar was abus'd, Kinde G.o.ds, forgiue me that, and prosper him

Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell His way to Douer.

Exit with Glouster.

How is't my Lord? How looke you?

Corn. I haue receiu'd a hurt: Follow me Lady; Turne out that eyelesse Villaine: throw this Slaue Vpon the Dunghill: Regan, I bleed apace, Vntimely comes this hurt. Giue me your arme.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Edgar.

Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd, Then still contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worst: The lowest, and most deiected thing of Fortune, Stands still in esperance, liues not in feare: The lamentable change is from the best, The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then, Thou vnsubstantiall ayre that I embrace: The Wretch that thou hast blowne vnto the worst, Owes nothing to thy blasts.

Enter Glouster, and an Oldman.

But who comes heere? My Father poorely led?

World, World, O world!

But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee, Life would not yeelde to age

Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant, And your Fathers Tenant, these fourescore yeares

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

Oldm. You cannot see your way

Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes: I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seene, Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar, The food of thy abused Fathers wrath: Might I but liue to see thee in my touch, I'ld say I had eyes againe

Oldm. How now? who's there?

Edg. O G.o.ds! Who is't can say I am at the worst?

I am worse then ere I was

Old. 'Tis poore mad Tom

Edg. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not, So long as we can say this is the worst

Oldm. Fellow, where goest?

Glou. Is it a Beggar-man?

Oldm. Madman, and beggar too

Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg.

I'th' last nights storme, I such a fellow saw; Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne Came then into my minde, and yet my minde Was then sca.r.s.e Friends with him.

I haue heard more since: As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th' G.o.ds, They kill vs for their sport

Edg. How should this be?

Bad is the Trade that must play Foole to sorrow, Ang'ring it selfe, and others. Blesse thee Master

Glou. Is that the naked Fellow?

Oldm. I, my Lord

Glou. Get thee away: If for my sake Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine I'th' way toward Douer, do it for ancient loue, And bring some couering for this naked Soule, Which Ile intreate to leade me

Old. Alacke sir, he is mad