SCENE VI. The Country near Dover. Enter GLOSTER and EDGAR, dressed like a Peasant. Glo. When shall we come to the top of that same hill? Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. Glo. Methinks, the ground is even. Hark, do you hear the sea? Horrible steep: No, truly. Edg. Why, then your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. 4 So may it be, indeed: Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst. Edg. You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd, But in my garments. Methinks, you are better spoken. Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place: -stand still. 80 How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles: Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Topple down headlong. Glo. Set me where you stand. Edg. Give me your hand: You are now within a foot Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon Would I not leap uprights1. Glo. Let go my hand. Here, friend, is another purse; in it, a jewel Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off; Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. Glo. [Seems to go. With all my heart. Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his despair, Is done to cure it. Glo. O you mighty gods! This world I do renounce; and, in your sights, Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!- [He leaps, and falls along. Edg. Gone, sir? farewell. 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, What are you, sir? Away, and let me die. Edg. Had'st thou been aught but gossomer82, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thou had'st shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe; sound. Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art Ten masts at each make not the altitude, Which thou hast perpendicularly fell; Thy life's a miracle: Speak yet again. Glo. But have I fallen, or no? Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn: Look up a-height; the shrill-gorg'd lark so far Glo. Alack, I have no eyes. Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit, To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, And frustrate his proud will. Edg. Give me your arm: Up:-So;-How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand. Glo. Too well, too well. This is above all strangeness. Upon the crown o'the cliff, what thing was that Glo. A poor unfortunate beggar. Edg. As I stood here below, methought, his eyes Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, Horns whelk'd, and wav'd like the enridged sea; It was some fiend: Therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours 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. But who comes here? Enter LEAR, fantastically dressed up with flowers. The safer sense will ne'er accommodate His master thus. Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the king himself. Edg. O thou side-piercing sight! Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard.-Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace; -this piece of toasted cheese will do't.-There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant.-Bring up the brown bills.-O, well flown, bird!-i'the clout, i'the clout: hewgh! Give the word. Edg. Sweet marjoram. Glo. I know that voice. Lear. Ha! Goneril!-with a white beard! -They flatter'd me like a dog; and told me, I had white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there. To say ay, and no, to every thing I said! - Ay and no too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found them, there I smelt them out. Go to, they are not men o'their words: they told me I was every thing; 'tis a lie; I am not ague-proof. Glo. The trick of that voice I do well remember: Iş't not the king? Lear. Ay, every inch a king: Adultery Thou shalt not die: Die for adultery! No: Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son To't, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.- |