Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way, and footpath. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: Bless the good man from the foul fiend' Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; and Flib. bertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since possesses chamber-maids and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master! Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whoin the heaven's plagues Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched, Makes thee the happier :-Heavens, deal so still! Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly; So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough.-Dost thou know Dover? Edg. Ay, master. Glo. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully in the confined deep : Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear, With something rich about me: from that place I shall no leading need. Edg. Give me thy arm; Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt. SCENE II-Before the Duke of Albany's palace. Enter Goneril and Edmund; Steward meeting them. Gon. Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our inild husband Not met us on the way :-Now, where's your inaster? (1) 1. e. To make it subject to us, instead of acting in obedience to it. Stew. Madam, within; but never man so chang'd: I told him of the army that was landed; He smil'd at it: I told him, you were coming; When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot; Gon. Then shall you go no further, [To Edmund. It is the cowish terror of his spirit, That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs, Which tie him to an answer: Our wishes, on the way, May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother; A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech; Conceive, and fare thee well. Edm Yours in the ranks of death. Gon. My most dear Gloster! [Exit Edmund, O, the difference of man, and man! To thee A woman's services are due; my fool Usurps my bed. Stew. Madam, here comes my lord. [Exil Steward. Enter Albany. Gon. I have been worth the whistle.2 (1) i. e. Our wishes on the road may be com pleted. (2) Worth calling for. Alb. O Goneril! You are not worth the dust which the rude wind She that herself will sliver1 and disbranch Gon. No more; the text is foolish. Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile scem vile: Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd? A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded. Could my good brother suffer you to do it? If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Milk-liver'd man! Gon. That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st, Fools do those villains pity, who are punish'd Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum? France spreads his banners in our noiseless land: With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats; Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cri'st, Alack! why does he so? Alb. See thyself, devil! Proper deformity seems not in the fiend So horrid, as in woman. Gon. O vain fool! Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame, Be-monster not thy feature. Were it my fitness To let these hands obey my blood,1 They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Thy flesh and bones:-Howe'er thou art a fiend, A woman's shape doth shield thee. Gon. Marry, your manhood now! Enter a Messenger. Alb. What news? Mess. O, my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's dead; Slain by his servant, going to put out of Gloster. Gloster's eyes! Mess. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with re morse, Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword Alb. Mess. Both, both, my lord.— This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; 'Tis from your sister. Gon. [Aside.] One way I like this well; But being widow, and my Gloster with her, May all the building in my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life: Another way, The news is not so tart.—I'll read, and answer. [Exit. Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his eyes? (1) Inclination. Mess. Come with my lady hither. Alb. He is not here. Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back again. Alb. Knows he the wickedness? Mess. Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him; And quit the house on purpose, that their punish ment Might have the freer course. Gloster, I live Alb. To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king, And to revenge thine eyes.-Come hither, friend; Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt. SCENE III.--The French camp near Dover. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman. Kent. Why the king of France is so suddenly gene back know you the reason? Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, Which since his coming forth is thought of; which Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, That his personal return was most requir'd, And necessary. Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? Gent. The mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer. Kent Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief? Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence; And now and then an ample tear trili'd down Kent. |