What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence, As pearls from diamonds dropp'd.-In brief, sorrow Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all Could so become it. Kent. Made she no verbal question? Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heav'd the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; Cry'd, Sisters! sisters!—Shame of ladies! sisters! Kent! father! sisters! What? i'the storm? i'the night? Let pity not be believed!-There she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes, And clamour moisten'd: then away she started Kent. It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions; Else one self mate and mate 78 could not beget Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? Gent. No. Kent. Was this before the king return'd? Gent. No, since. Kent. Well, sir; The poor distress'd Lear is i'the town: Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to see his daughter. Gent. Why, good sir? Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness, That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights Gent. Alack, poor gentleman! Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? Gent. 'Tis so; they are afoot. Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear, And leave you to attend him: some dear cause [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Same. A Tent. Enter CORDELIA, Physician, and Soldiers. Cor. Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiter, and furrow weeds, In our sustaining corn.—A century send forth; And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.]-What can man's wisdom do, In the restoring his bereaved sense? He, that helps him, take all my outward worth. Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, The which he lacks; that to provoke in him, Cor. All bless'd secrets, All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears! be aidant, and remediate, That wants the means to lead it. Mess. Enter a Messenger. Madam, news; The British powers are marching hitherward. My mourning, and important tears, hath pitied. But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right: [Exeunt. Stew. Madam, with much ado: Your sister is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? Stew. No, madam. Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him? Stew. I know not, lady. Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. It was great ignorance, Gloster'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 misery, to despatch His nighted life; moreover, to descry The strength o'the 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 she 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 am sure of that: and, at her late being here, She gave strange œiliads, and most speaking looks To noble Edmund: I know, you are of her bosom. Stew. I, madam? Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I know it: Therefore, I do advise you, take this note 79: My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd; And more convenient is he for my hand, 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, desire her call her wisdom to her. So, fare you well. 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 would show What party I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well. [Exeunt. |