Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poifons if it bite;
Maftiff, grey-hound, mungril grim,
Hound or fpaniel, * brache, or hym;
Or bobtail tike, or trundle-tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail:
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.

Do, de, de, de: Seffey, come, march to wakes and fairs,

And market towns; poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan--fee what breeds about her heart-Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts? You, Sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will fay, they are Perfian; but let them be chang'd.

Re-enter Glo'fter.

Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here and rest a while. Lear. Make no noise, make no noise, draw the curtains;

So, fo, we'll go to fupper i' th' morning.

Fool. And I'll go to-bed at noon.

Glo. Come hither, friend; where is the King, my mafter?

Kent. Here, Sir, but trouble him not; his wits are

gone.

Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee, take him in thy arms: I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him: There is a litter ready, lay him in't,

And drive tow'rd Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.
If thou should'ft dally half an hour, his life,

With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in affured lofs. Take

*

up, take up,

-brache, or hym, &c.] Names of particular Sorts of Dogs.

Mr. Pope.

And

And follow me, that will to fome provifion
Give thee quick conduct.

Kent. Oppreft Nature fleeps:

This Reft might yet have blam'd thy broken Senfes, Which, if Conveniency will not hallow,

Stand in hard Cure. Come, help to bear thy Mafter; Thou must not stay behind.

Glo. Come, come, away.

[To Fool.

[Exeunt, bearing off the King.

Manet Edgar.

Edg. When we our Betters fee bearing our Woes, We scarcely think our Miseries our Foes. Who alone fuffers, fuffers moft i'th' Mind; Leaving free things, and happy Shows behind: But then the Mind much Suff'rance does o'erskip, When Grief hath Mates, and Bearing Fellowship. How light, and portable, my pain feems now, When That, which makes me bend, makes the King He childed, as I father'd! - Tom, away; [bow; Mark the high Noifes, and thyfelf bewray, When falfe Opinion, whofe wrong Thought defiles

thee,

In thy juft Proof repeals, and reconciles thee.
What will, hap more to Night; fafe 'fcape the King!
Lurk, Lurk.-
[Exit Edgar.

Changes to Glo'fter's Caftle.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Edmund, and

Servants.

Corn. Phew him this letter; the army of France is
POST
OST speedily to my lord your husband,
landed; feek out the traitor Glofter.

Reg. Hang him inftantly.

Gon. Pluck out his eyes.

Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep

you

the

you our sister company; revenges we are bound to take upon your traiterous father, are not fit for your beholding. Advife the Duke, where you are going, to a molt feftinate preparation; we are bound to the like. Our Pofts fhall be fwift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewel, dear fifter; farewel, my lord of Glo'fter.

Enter Steward.

How now? where's the King?

Stew. My lord of Glo'fter hath convey'd him hence.
Some five or fix and thirty of his Knights,
Hot Queftrifts after him, met him at gate;
Who with fome other of the Lords dependants,
Are gone with him tow'rd Dover; where they boaft.
To have well-armed friends.

Corn. Get horses for your miftrefs.
Gon. Farewel, fweet lord, and fifter.

[Exeunt Gon. and Edm. Corn. Edmund, farewel: go feek the traitor Glo'fter;

Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us:
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of juftice; yet our pow'r
Shall do a court'fy to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not controul.

Enter Glo'fter, brought in by Servants.

Who's there? the traitor?

Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

Corn. Bind faft his corky arms.

Glo. What mean your Graces? Good my Friends,

confider.

You are my Guests: Do me no foul play, friends.

Corn. Bind him, I say.

Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy traitor!

[They bind him.

Glo.

Glo. Unmerciful lady as you are! I'm none.

Corn. To this chair bind him. Villain, thou fhalt find

Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis moft ignobly done To pluck me by the beard.

Reg. So white, and fuch a traitor?
Glo. Naughty lady,

These hairs, which thou doft ravish from my chin,
Will quicken and accufe thee; I'm your Hoft;
With robbers' hands, my hofpitable favour
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
Corn. Come, Sir, what letters had you late from
France?

Reg. Be fimple-anfwer'd, for we know the truth.
Corn. And what confed'racy have you with the
traitors,

Late footed in the kingdom?

Reg. To whofe hands

Have you fent the lunatic King? speak.

Glo. I have a letter gueffingly fet down,

Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,

And not from one oppos'd.

Corn. Cunning

Reg. And falfe.

Gorn. Where haft thou sent the King?

Glo. To Dover.

Reg. Wherefore to Dover?

Waft thou not charg'd, at peril

Corn. Wherefore to Dover? let him first answer that. Glo. I am ty'd to th' ftake, and I must ftand the course.

Reg. Wherefore to Dover?

Glo. Because I would not fee thy cruel nails Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce fifter In his anointed flesh stick boarifh phangs. The fea, with fuch a ftorm as his bare head In hell-black night indur'd, would have boil'd up, And quench'd the ftelled fires;

Yet

"Yet poor old heart, he help'd the heav'ns to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that ftern time,
Thou should'st have faid, go, porter turn the key;
All cruels elfe subscrib'd; but I fhall fee

The winged vengeance overtake fuch Children.
Corn. See't fhalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
Upon these eyes of thine I'll fet my foot.

[Glo'fter is held down, while Cornwell treads out
one of his eyes,

Glo. He, that will think to live till he be old, Give me fome help.-O.cruel! O you gods! Reg. One fide will mock another; th' other too. Corn. If you fee vengeance

Serv. Hold your hand, my lord:

I've ferv'd you, ever fince I was a child; But better fervice have I never done you, you hold.

Than now to, bid

Reg. How now, you dog?

Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, I'd fhake it on this quarrel. What do you mean? Corn. My villain!

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

anger.

[Fight; in the Scuffle Cornwall is wounded. Reg. Give me thy fword. A peafant ftand up [Kills him. Serv. Oh, I am flain-my lord, you have one eye

thus?

left

To fee fome mischief on him. Oh

[Dies. Corn. Left it fee more, prevent it; out, vile gelly: Where is thy luftre now?

[Treads the other out.

Glo. All dark and comfortless-where's my fon
Edmund?

Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature

To quit this horrid act.

Reg. Out, treacherous villain.

Thou call'ft on him, that hates thee: It was he,
That made the overture of thy treafons to us:

VOL. VII.