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 see him!
[Exeunt.]
SCENE V. A Room in Gloster’s Castle.
[Enter Regan and Oswald.]
Reg.
But are my brother’s powers set forth?
Osw.
Ay, madam.
Reg.
Himself in person there?
Osw.
Madam, with much ado.
Your sister is the better soldier.
Reg.
Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?
Osw.
No, madam.
Reg.
What might import my sister’s letter to him?
Osw.
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.
Osw.
I must needs after him, madam, with my letter.
Reg.
Our troops set forth tomorrow: stay with us;
The ways are dangerous.
Osw.
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.
Osw.
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 eyeliads and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.
Osw.
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 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.
Osw.
Would I could meet him, madam! I should show
What party I do follow.
Reg.
Fare thee well.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE VI. The country near Dover.
[Enter Gloster, and Edgar dressed like a peasant.]
Glou.
When shall I come to the top of that same hill?
Edg.
You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.
Glou.
Methinks the ground is even.
Edg.
Horrible steep.
Hark, do you hear the sea?
Glou.
No, truly.
Edg.
Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes’ anguish.
Glou.
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.
Glou.
Methinks you’re better spoken.
Edg.
Come on, sir; here’s the place:—stand still.—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
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish’d to her cock; her cock a buoy
Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge
That on the unnumber’d idle pebble chafes
Cannot be heard so high.—I’ll look no more;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.
Glou.
Set me where you stand.
Edg.
Give me your hand:—you are now within a foot
Of th’ extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.
Glou.
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, ‘s another purse; in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man’s taking: fairies and gods
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Edg.
Now fare ye well, good sir.
[Seems to go.]
Glou.
With all my heart.
Edg.
[Aside.] Why I do trifle thus with his despair
Is done to cure it.
Glou.