King Lear

mowing,--who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So,
bless thee, master!

Glou.
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues
Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
Makes thee the happier;--heavens, deal so still!
Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly;
So distribution should undo excess,
And each man have enough.--Dost thou know Dover?

Edg.
Ay, master.

Glou.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in the confined deep:
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no leading need.

Edg.
Give me thy arm:
Poor Tom shall lead thee.

[Exeunt.]



Scene II. Before the Duke of Albany's Palace.

[Enter Goneril and Edmund; Oswald meeting them.]

Gon.
Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband
Not met us on the way.--Now, where's your master?

Osw.
Madam, within; but never man so chang'd.
I told him of the army that was landed;
He smil'd at it: I told him you were coming;
His answer was, 'The worse': Of Gloster's treachery
And of the loyal service of his son
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot
And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:--
What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.

Gon.
[To Edmund.] Then shall you go no further.
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs
Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us; ere long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistress's command. [Giving a favour.]
Wear this; spare speech;
Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:--
Conceive, and fare thee well.

Edm.
Yours in the ranks of death!

[Exit Edmund.]

Gon.
My most dear Gloster.
O, the difference of man and man!
To thee a woman's services are due:
My fool usurps my body.

Osw.
Madam, here comes my lord.

[Exit.]

[Enter Albany.]

Gon.
I have been worth the whistle.

Alb.
O Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face! I fear your disposition:
That nature which contemns it origin
Cannot be bordered certain in itself;
She that herself will sliver and disbranch
From her material sap, perforce must wither
And come to deadly use.

Gon.