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Phys. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile Lear. Where have I been?-Where am I?-Fair

day-light? I am mightily abusod. - I should even die with pity, To see another thus.— I know not what to say.I will not swear, these are my hands: let's see. I feel this pin prick. Would I were assurd or my condition. Cor.

0, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o’er me:-
No, sir, you must not kneel.

Pray, do not mock me
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks, I should know you, and know this man.
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night: Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.

And so I am, I am.
Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep

If 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 not.

No cause, no cause,
Lear. Am I in France?

In your own kingdom, sir Leur. Do not abuse me.

Phys. Be comforted, good madam: the great rage, You see, is cur'd in him: and yet it is danger To make him even* o'er the time he has lost Desire him to go in; trouble him no more, Till further settling. Cur. Will’t please your highness walk?

* To reconcile it to its apprehension.


You must bear with me: Pray now, forget, and forgive: I am old, and foolish.

ACT V. LEAR TO CORDELIA WHEN TAKEN PRISONERS No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness: So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses, and who wins; who's in, who's out;And take upon us the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies: And we'll wear out, In a wall?d prison, packs and sects of great ones, That ebb and flow by the moon. Edm.

Take them away. Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense.

THE JUSTICE OF THE GODS. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Made instruments to scourge us. EDGAR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS DISCOVERING HIMSEL)

TO HIS FATHER. List* a brief tale;And, when 'tis told, 0, that my heart would burst!-The bloody proclamation to escape, That follow'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness! Thát with the pain of death we'd hourly die, Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance That very dog's disdain'd: and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, Led him, beggd for him, sav'd him from despair; Never (O fault!) reveald myself unto him, Until some half hour past, when I was arm’d, Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,

* Hear.

I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: But his flaw'd heart,
(Alack, too weak the confliet to support!)

Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief
Burst smilingly.

Edm. This speech of your's hath mov'd me, And shall, perchąnce, do good; but speak jou on: You look as you had something more to say:

Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.

Edg. This would have seem'd a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more,
And top extremity.
Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man,
Who having seen me in my worst estate,
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms
He fasten’d on my neck, and bellow'd out
As he'd burst heaven; threw him on my father;
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him,
That ever ear receiv'd: which in recounting
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack. Twice then the trumpet sounded
And there I left him tranc'd.


Howl, howl, howl, howl;-0, you are men of

stones; Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack:-0, she is gone

for ever!--
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
She's dead as earth:--Lend me a looking-glass:
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.

This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.

O my good master! [Kneeling.

Lear. Priythee, away. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever! Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha! What is’t thou say'st? - Her voice was ever sost, Gentle, and low.


And my poor fool* is hang'd! No, no, no, life: Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no

more, Never, never, never, never, never!



WHAT are these,
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire;
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are o’nt? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? you seem to understand

By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips:—You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,
To catch the nearest way: Thou would'st be great
Art not without ambition; but without
The illness should attend it. What thju would'st

highly, That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly win.

Poor Fool, in the time of Shakespeare, was an ex pression of endearment.



DUNCAN'S APPROACH. The raven himself is hoarse, That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits That tend on mortal* thoughts, unsex me here; And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full or direst cruelty! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse;t 'That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on Nature's mischief! Come, thick night; And pallf thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, Holdi

MACBETH'S IRRESOLUTION. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: If the assassination Could trammel upon the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,We'd jump the life to come.-But, in these cases, We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. • He's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against

* Murderous. † Pity. # Wrap, as in a mantle. & Knife anciently meant a sword or dagger

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