Page:Shakespeare - First Folio Faithfully Reproduced, Methuen, 1910.djvu/817

Rh Glou. 'Tis the times plague, When Madmen leade the blinde: Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure: Aboue the rest, be gone.

Oldm. Ile bring him the best Parrell that I haue Come on't what will.

Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow.

Edg. Poore Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further.

Glou. Come hither fellow.

Edg. And yet I must: Blesse thy sweete eyes, they bleede.

Glou. Know'st thou the way to Douer?

Edg. Both style, and gate; Horseway, and foot‐path: poore Tom hath bin scar'd out of his good wits. Blesse thee good mans sonne, from the foule Fiend.

Glou. Here take this purse, yu whom the heau'ns plagues Haue humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched Makes thee the happier: Heauens deale so still: Let the superfluous, and Lust‐dieted man, That slaues your ordinance, that will not see Because he do's not feele, feele your powre quickly: So distribution should vndoo excesse, And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer?

Edg. I Master.

Glou. There is a Cliffe, whose high and bending head Lookes fearfully in the confined Deepe: Bring me but to the very brimme of it, And Ile repayre the misery thou do'st beare With something rich about me: from that place, I shall no leading neede.

Edg. Giue me thy arme; Poore Tom shall leade thee.

Scena Secunda.

Gon. Welcome my Lord. I meruell our mild husband Not met vs on the way. Now, where's your Master?

Stew. Madam within, but neuer man so chang'd: I told him of the Army that was Landed: He smil'd at it. I told him you were comming, His answer was, the worse. Of Glosters Treachery, And of the loyall Seruice of his Sonne When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot, And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out: What most he should dislike, seemes pleasant to him; What like, offensiue.

Gon. Then shall you go no further. It is the Cowish terror of his spirit That dares not vndertake: Hee'l not feele wrongs Which tye him to an answer: our wishes on the way May proue effects. Backe Edmond to my Brother, Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powres. I must change names at home, and giue the Distaffe Into my Husbands hands. This trustie Seruant Shall passe betweene vs: ere long you are like to heare (If you dare venture in your owne behalfe) A Mistresses command. Weare this; spare speech, Decline your head. This kisse, if it durst speake Would stretch thy Spirits vp into the ayre: Conceiue, and fare thee well.

Bast. Yours in the rankes of death.

Gon. My most deere Gloster. Oh, the difference of man, and man, To thee a Womans seruices are due, My Foole vsurpes my body.

Stew. Madam, here come's my Lord.

Gon. I haue beene worth the whistle.

Alb. Oh Gonerill, You are not worth the dust which the rude winde Blowes in your face.

Gon. Milke‐Liuer'd man, That bear'st a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs, Who hast not in thy browes an eye‐discerning Thine Honor, from thy sufferring.

Alb. See thy selfe diuell: Proper deformitie seemes not in the Fiend So horrid as in woman.

Gon. Oh vaine Foole.

Mes. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwals dead, Slaine by his Seruant, going to put out The other eye of Glouster.

Alb. Glousters eyes.

Mes. A Seruant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against the act: bending his Sword To his great Master, who, threat‐enrage'd Flew on him, and among'st them fell'd him dead, But not without that harmefull stroke, which since Hath pluckt him after.

Alb. This shewes you are aboue You Iustices, that these our neather crimes So speedily can venge. But (O poore Glouster) Lost he his other eye?

Mes. Both, both, my Lord. This Leter Madam, craues a speedy answer: 'Tis from your Sister.

Gon. One way I like this well. But being widdow, and my Glouster with her, May all the building in my fancie plucke Vpon my hatefull life. Another way The Newes is not so tart. Ile read, and answer.

Alb. Where was his Sonne, When they did take his eyes?

Mes. Come with my Lady hither.

Alb. He is not heere.

Mes. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe.

Alb. Knowes he the wickednesse?

Mes. I my good Lord: 'twas he inform'd against him And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might haue the freer course.

Alb. Glouster, I liue To thanke thee for the loue thou shew'dst the King, And to reuenge thine eyes. Come hither Friend, Tell me what more thou know'st.

Scena Tertia.

Cor. Alacke, 'tis he: why he was met euen now As mad as the vext Sea, singing alowd. Crown'd with ranke Fenitar, and furrow weeds, With Hardokes, Hemlocke, Nettles, Cuckoo flowres,