With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our fuftaining corn. Send forth a cent'ry;
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye. What can man's wisdom
In the restoring his bereaved sense,

He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.

Phys. There are means, Madam :
Our fofter nurse of nature, is repose;
The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many fimples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.

Cor. All blest secrets,

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediate
In the good man's distress! seek, seek for him;
Left his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life,
That wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. News, Madam :

The British pow'rs are marching hitherward.

Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands

In expectation of them. O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about: therefore great France
My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and fee him!

[Exeunt.

which smoke has, of making the eyes water. And as to the growth of it, Pliny tells us particularly that it springs up in gardens and fields of barley; (Nafcitur in bortis et segetibus hordeaceis) which our author here calls, in our sustaining corn-I obferve, in Chaucer it is written femetere; by a corruption either of the scribe, or of vulgar pronunciaton; if of the latter, it might from thence eafily slide, in progress of time, into fenitar.

SCENE,

Reg. B

SCENE, Regan's Palace.

UT

Enter Regan, and Steward.

are my brother's powers fet forth?

Stew. Ay, Madam.

Reg. Himself in person there?
Stew. With much ado.

Your fister is the better foldier.

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lady at home
Stew. No, Madam.

Reg. What might import my fister's letter to him?
Stew. I know not, Lady.

Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ign'rance, Glo'ster's eyes being out,
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his mifery, to dispatch
His nighted life: moreover to defcry

The strength o' th' enemy.

Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us:

The ways are dangerous.

Stew. I may not, madam;

My Lady charg'd my duty in this business.

Reg. Why should the write to Edmund ? might not you

Transport her purposes by word? belike,
Something I know not what I'll love thee much-
Let me unseal the letter.

Stew. Madam, I had rather

Reg. I know, your Lady does not love her husband: I'm sure of that; and, at her late being here, She gave strange cœiliads, and most speaking looks

To noble Edmund. I know, you're of her bofom.

Stezw. I, madam?

Reg. I speak in understanding: you are; I know't;

Therefore, I do advise you, take this note.
My Lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd,

And more convenient is he for my hand,

Than

Than for your Lady's: you may gather more:
If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray, defire her call her wisdom to her. So farewell..
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,

Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam, I should thew

What party I do follow..'

Reg. Fare thee well.

Glo.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, the Country near Dover.

Enter Glo'fter, and Edgar, as a Peasant.

W

Hen shall I come to th' top of that same hill?

Edg. You do climb up it now. Look, how

Glo. Methinks, the ground is even.

Edg. Horrible steep.

Hark, do you hear the fea?

Glo. No, truly.

[we labour.

Edg. Why then your other senses grow imperfect

By your eyes anguish.

Glo. So may it be, indeed.

Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'it
In better phrafe and matter than thou didst.

Edg. You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd,

But in my garments.

Glo. Sure, you're better spoken.

[fearful

Edg. Come on, Sir, here's the place-stand still. How

And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!

The crows and choughs, that wing the mid-way air,
Shew scarce fo gross as beetles. Half way down
Hangs one, that gathers famphire; dreadful trade!
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.
The fisher-men, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too fmall for fight. The murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumbred idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,

Left

Lest my brain turn, and the deficient fight
Topple down headlong.

Glo. Set me, where you ftand.

Edg. Give me your hand: you're now within a foot.

Of th' extream verge: for all below the moon
Would I not leap upright.

Glo. Let go my hand:

Here, friend, 's another purse, in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies, and gods,

Profper it with thee! Go thou further off,
Bid me farewel, and let me hear thee going.
Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir.

Glo. With all my heart.

[Seems to go.

Edg. Why do I trifle thus with his despair ?

'Tis done to cure it.

Glo. O you mighty gods!

This world I do renounce; and in your fights
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My fnuff and loathed part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O bless him!
Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps and falls along

Edg. Good Sir, Farewel.
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself

Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead?
Hoa, you, hear you, friend! Sir! Sir! speak!
Thus might he pass, indeed yet he revives.
What are you, Sir?

Glo. Away, and let me die.

Edg. Had'ft thou been aught but goss'mer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thou'd'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe, Hast heavy fubstance, bleed'st not; speak, art found? Ten masts at each make not the altitude, (47)

Which thou haft perpendicularly fall'n.
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.
Glo. But have I fall'n or no?

Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn!
Look up a height, the shrill-gorg'd Lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.
Glo. Alack, I have no eyes.

Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit,
To end itself by death? 'twas yet fome comfort,
When mifery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
And frustrate his proud will.

Edg. Give me your arm.

Up, fo-how is't? feel you your legs? you stand.
Glo. Too well, too well.

Edg. This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o' th' cliff, what thing was that,
Which parted from you?

Gle. A poor unfortunate beggar.

Edg. As I stood here below, methought, his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
Horns welk'd, and wav'd like the enridged fea:
It was fome fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think, that the clearest gods, who make them honours (48)
Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee.

Glo. I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
Affliction, 'till it do cry out itself,
Enough, enough, and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man; often 'twould say,
The fiend, the fiend-he led me to that place.
Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts.

Enter Lear, dress'd madly with flowers.

But who comes here?

least-a poor, dragging expreffion. All the old copies read, as I have reftor'd in the text, ten mafts at each.

'Tis certain, 'tis a bold phrafe, but I dare warrant, it was our author's; and means ten masts placed at the extremity of each other. (48) Think, that the dearest gods- This too is Mr. Pope's reading. All the authentic copies have it, clearest gods; i. e. open, and righteous, in their dealings. So, our author again, in his Timon;

Roots, ye clear beav'ns!

The