Imágenes de páginas

Stew. Slave, thou hast slain me:-Villain, take

my purse;
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
And give the letters, which thou find’st about me,
To Edmund earl of Gloster; seek him out
Upon the British party :-0, untimely death!

Edg. I know thee well: A serviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As badness would desire.

What, is he dead? Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you.Let's see his pockets: these letters, that he speaks

of, May be my friends.—He's dead; I am only sorry He had no other death's-man.-Let us see:Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not: To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts; Their papers, is more lawful.

[reads.] Let our reciprocal vows be remember'd. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol; from the loath'd warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

Your wife, (so I would say,) and your affectionate servant,


O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
And the exchange, my brother!-Here, in the sands,
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers; and, in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd duke: For him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.

[Exit Edgar, dragging out the body.
Glo. The king is mad: How stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs;
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves.

Re-enter EDGAR.


Give me your hand:
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.

[Exeunt. SCENE VII.

A Tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed, asleep ;

Physician, Gentleman, and others, attending: Enter

Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live, and work, To match thy goodness? My life will be too short, And every measure fail me.

·Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpay'd.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more, nor clipp’d, but so.

Be better suited:
These weeds are memories of those worser hours;
I pr’ythee, put them off.

Pardon me, dear madam;
Yet to be known, shortens my made intent:
My boon I make it, that you know me not,
Till time and I think meet.
Cor. Then be it so, my good lord.—How does the

[to the Physician. Phys. Madam, sleeps still.

Cor. O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untun'd and jarring senses, 0, wind up
Of this child-changed father!

So please your majesty, That we may wake the king ? he hath slept long.

Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed l' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?

Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep, We put fresh garments on him. Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake

him; I doubt not of his temperance. Cor.

Very well. Phys. Please you, draw near.-Louder the mu

sick there. Cor. O my dear father! Restoration, hang

[graphic][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« AnteriorContinuar »