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Excellent sybil! O my glowing blood !
Enter GLOSTER. Glost. I come to seek thee, Edmund, to impart a business of importance. I know thy loyal heart is touched to see the cruelty of these ungrateful daughters against our royal master.
Edm. Most savage and unnatural!
Glost. This change in the state sits uneasy. The commons repine aloud at their female tyrants; already they cry out for the re-instalment of their good old king, whose injuries, I fear, will inflame them into mutiny.
Edm, 'Tis to be hop'd, not fear'd.
Glost. Thou hast it, boy; tis to be hop'd indeed. On me they cast their eyes, and hourly court me To lead them on; and, whilst this head is mine, I'm theirs. A little covert craft, my boy, And then for open action; 'twill be employment Worthy such honest daring souls as thine. Thou, Edmund, art my trusty emissary. Haste on the spur, at the first break of day, With these dispatches to the duke of Cambray.
[Gives him Letters. You know what mortal feuds have always flam'd Between this Duke of Cornwall's family, and his ; Full twenty thousand mountaineers Th' inveterate prince will send to our assistance. Despatch; commend us to his
[Exit GLOSTER. Edm. Yes, credulous old man, I will commend you to his grace, His grace the Duke of Cornwall instantly, I'll show him these contents in thy own character, And seal'd with thy own signet; then forthwith
The cholric duke gives sentence on thy life ;
(Retires. GLOSTER returns, followed by CORDELIA and ARAN.
THE, poorly dressed ;-EDMUND observing at a distance. Cord. Turn, Gloster, turn; by all the sacred
pow'rs, I do conjure you give my griefs a hearing: [Kneels. You must, you shall, nay, I am sure you will; For you were always styl’d the just and good. Glost. What wouldst thou, princess ? Rise, and
speak thy griefs. Cord. Nay, you shall promise to redress them too, Or here I'll kneel for ever. I entreat Thy succour for a father, and a king, An injur'd father, and an injur'd king. Edm. O charming sorrow! How her tears adorn
her ! Glost. Consider, princess,
[Raises her. For whom thou begg'st, 'tis for the king that wrong’d
thee. Cord. O name not that; he did not, could not,
wrong me. Nay, muse not, Gloster; for it is too likely This injur'a king ere this is past your aid, And gone distracted with his savage wrongs. Edm. I'll gaze no more ; -and yet my eyes are
charm'd. Cord. Or, what if it be worse ? -Can there be
worse? Ah, 'tis too probable, this furious night Has pierc'd his tender body; the bleak winds And cold rain chill’d, or lightning struck, him dead ; If it be so, your promise is discharg’d, And I have only one poor boon to beg;
That you'd convey me to his breathless trunk,
Glost. Oh, fair Cordelia, thou hast.piety
Cord. Despatch, Aranthe;
Aran. How, madam! are you ignorant
your most impious sisters have decreed Immediate death for any that relieve him?
Cord. I cannot dread the furies in this case.
Aran. In such a night as thiş ! Consider, madam,
Cord. Therefore no shelter for the king,
[Exeunt CORDELIA and ArANTHE. Edm. In this disguise, we'll instantly Go seek the king! -Ha ! ha! a lucky change : That virtue, which I fear'd would be my hind'rance, Has prov'd the bawd to my design. I'll bribe two ruffians shall at distance follow, And seize them in some desert place; and there Whilst one retains her, t'other shall return T'inform me where she's lodg’d: I'll be disguis’d too, Whilst they are poaching for me, I'll to the duke
With these dispatches: then to the field,
Another Part of the Heath.-Rain Thunder-Light
Enter KING LEAR and Kent. Kent. Here is the place, my lord ; good, my lord,
Lear. Let me alone.
heart? Kent. I'd rather break mine own. Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious
-But I'll punish home!
To shut me out! -Pour on, I will endure-
Kent. See, my lord, here's the entrance.
Lear. Well, I'll goin,
Poor Tom ! Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i'th'
straw? Come forth.
Enter EDGAR, disguised. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me—Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind“Mum,go to thy bed and warm thee--Ha! what do I see? By all my griefs, the poor old king bare-headed, And drench'd in this foul storm! Professing syrens, Are all your protestations come to this?
Lear. Tell me, fellow, didst thou give all to thy two daughters?
Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom, whom the foul fiend has led through fire and through flame, through bushes and bogs ? that has laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; that has made him proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting horse over