King Lear

Edg.
Give me your arm:
Up:--so.--How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand.

Glou.
Too well, too well.

Edg.
This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o' the cliff what thing was that
Which parted from you?

Glou.
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 impossibility, have preserv'd thee.

Glou.
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.

Lear.
Pass.

Glou.
I know that voice.

Lear.
Ha! Goneril with a white beard!--They flattered 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 everything 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 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they
are not men o' their words: they told me I was everything; 'tis a
lie--I am not ague-proof.

Glou.
The trick of that voice I do well remember:
Is't not the king?

Lear.
Ay, every inch a king:
When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life.--What was thy cause?--
Adultery?--
Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No:
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.
Let copulation thrive; for Gloster's bastard son
Was kinder to his father than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.--
Behold yond simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks presages snow;
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name;--
The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are centaurs,
Though women all above:
But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiend's; there's hell, there's darkness,
There is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench,