Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
Cor. Sir, do you know me?
Leur. You are a spirit, I know, when did you die?
Cor. Still, still far wide.
Phys. He's scarce awake, let him alone awhile.
Lear. Fair daylight, where have I been ?
I'm much abus'd. I should ev'n die with pity
To see another thus. I know not what ;
I will not swear these are my hands: let's see,
I feel this pin prick: would I were assur'd
Of my condition.
And hold your hand 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; and, to deal plainly with you,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man,
Yet I am doubtful: for I'm mainly ignorant
What place this is, and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nay, I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me,
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
Cor. And so I am, I am!
Lear. Be your tears wet?
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 none.
Lear. Am I in France?
Kent. In your own kingdom, sir.
Lear. Do not abuse me.
Phys. Be comforted, good madam; the great rage You see is cur'd: desire him to go in,
And trouble him no more till farther 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.
ALICIA AND JANE SHORE.
Alic. Still, my fair friend, still shall I find you thus ?
Still shall these sighs heave after one another,
These trickling drops chase one another still,
As if the posting messengers of grief
Could overtake the hours fled far away,
And make old Time come back?
J. Sh. No, my Alicia,
Heaven and his saints be witness to my thoughts,
There is no hour of all my life o'erpast,
That I could wish to take it's turn again.
Alic. And yet some of those days my friend has known,
Some of those years might pass for golden ones,
At least if womankind can judge of happiness.
What could we wish, we who delight in empire,
Whose beauty is our sov'reign good, and gives us
Our reasons to rebel, and pow'r to reign,
What could we more than to behold a monarch,
Lovely, renown'd, a conqueror, and young,
Bound in our chains, and sighing at our feet?
J. Sh. 'Tis true, the royal Edward was a wonder,
The goodly pride of all our English youth;
He was the very joy of all that saw him.
Form'd to delight, to love, and to persuade,
Impassive spirits and angelic natures
Might have been charm'd, like yielding human weakness,
Stoop'd from their Heav'n, and listen'd to his talking.
But what had I to do with kings and courts?
My humble lot had cast me far beneath him;
And, that he was the first of all mankind,
The bravest, and most lovely, was my curse.
Alic. Sure something more than fortune join'd your loves,
Nor could his greatness, and his gracious form,
Be elsewhere match'd so well, as to the sweetness
And beauty of my friend.
Name him no more:
He was the bane and ruin of my peace.
This anguish and these tears, these are the legacies
His fatal love has left me. Thou wilt see me,
Believe me, my Alicia, thou wilt see me,
Ere yet a few short days pass o'er my head,
Abandon'd to the very utmost wretchedness.
The hand of pow'r has seiz'd almost the whole
Of what was left for needy life's support;
Shortly thou wilt behold me poor and kneeling
Before thy charitable door for bread.
Alic. Joy of my life, my dearest Shore, forbear
To wound my heart, with thy foreboding sorrows;
Raise thy sad soul to better hopes than these;
Lift up thy eyes, and let them shine once more,
Bright as the morning sun above the mist.
Exert thy charms, seek out the stern protector,
And sooth his savage temper with thy beauty:
Spite of his deadly, unrelenting nature,
He shall be mov'd to pity, and redress thee.
J. Sh. My form, alas! has long forgot to please;
The scene of beauty and delight is chang'd:
No roses bloom upon my fading cheek,
Nor laughing graces wanton in my eyes ;
But haggard Grief, lean looking sallow Care,
And pining Discontent, a rueful train,
Dwell on my brow, all hideous and forlorn.
One only shadow of a hope is left me;
The noble minded Hastings, of his goodness,
Has kindly underta'en to be my advocate,
And move my humble suit to angry Gloster.
Alic. Does Hastings undertake to plead your cause But wherefore should he not? Hastings has eyes; The gentle lord has a right tender heart,
Melting and easy, yielding to impression,
And catching the soft flame from each new beauty;
But yours shall charm him long.
J. Sh. Away, you flatterer!
Nor charge his generous meaning with a weakness,
Which his great soul and virtue must disdain.
Too much of love thy hapless friend has prov'd,
Too many giddy foolish hours are gone,
And in fantastic measures danc'd away:
May the remaining few know only friendship.
So thou, my dearest, truest, best Alicia,
Vouchsafe to lodge me in thy gentle heart,
A partner there; I will give up mankind,
Forget the transports of increasing passion,
And all the pangs we feel for it's decay.
Alic. Live! live and reign for ever in my bosom ;
[Embracing
Safe and unrivall'd there possess thy own;
And you, the brightest of the stars above,
Ye saints, that once were women here below,
Be witness of the truth, the holy friendship,
Which here to this my other self I vow.
If I not hold her nearer to my soul,
Than every other joy the world can give,
Let poverty, deformity, and shame,
Distraction and despair, seize me on Earth,
Let not my faithless ghost have peace hereafter,
Nor taste the bliss of your celestial fellowship.
J. Sh. Yes, thou art true, and only thou art true :
Therefore these jewels, once the lavish bounty
Of royal Edward's love I trust to thee; [Gwing a casket.
Receive this, all that I can call my own,
And let it rest unknown and safe with thee;
That, if the state's injustice should oppress me,
Strip me of all, and turn me out a wanderer,
My wretchedness may find relief from thee,
And shelter from the storm.
My all is thine;
One common hazard shall attend us both,
And both be fortunate, or both be wretched.
But let thy fearful, doubting heart be still;
The saints and angels have thee in their charge,
And all things shall be well. Think not the good,,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done,
Shall die forgotten all; the poor, the pris❜ner,
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand,
Shall cry to Heav'n, and pull a blessing on thee ;
Ev'n man, the merciless insulter man,
Man who rejoices in our sex's weakness,
Shall pity thee, and, with unwonted goodness,
Forget thy failings, aud record thy praise.
.J. Sh. Why should I think, that man will do for me,
What yet he never did for wretches like me?
Mark by what partial justice we are judg'd:
Such is the fate unhappy women find,
And such the curse entail'd upon our kind,
That man, the lawless libertine, may rove,
Free and unquestion'd, through the wilds of love;
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