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Cordelia. O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
So please your majesty, That we may wake the king? he hath slept long. Cordelia. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?
Gentleman. Ay, madam, in the heaviness of his sleep, We put fresh garments on him.
Physician. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; I doubt not of his temperance.
Physician. Please you, draw
near.- Louder the
Cordelia. O my dear father! Restoration, hang
Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
Of quick, cross lightning? to watch (poor perdu !)
Had not concluded all.--He wakes; speak to him.
Physician. Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.
Cordelia. How does my royal lord? How fares your
Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave :Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Sir, do you know me? Lear. You are a spirit, I know; When did you die? Cordelia. Still, still, far wide!
Physician. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile. Lear. Where have I been?-Where am I?-Fair day
I am mightily abus'd.—I should even die with pity,
O, look upon me, sir,
Pray, do not mock me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
my child Cordelia.
And so I am, I am.
Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not: If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know, you do not love me; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong: You have some cause, they have not.
No cause, no cause.
Lear. Am I in France?
In your own kingdom, sir.
Lear. Do not abuse me. Physician. Be comforted, good madam: the great rage, You see, is cur'd in him: [and yet it is danger To make him even o'er the time he has lost.] Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more, Till further settling.
Cordelia. Will't please your highness walk?
Lear. You must bear with me: Pray now, forget and forgive: I am old, and foolish.
ACT V. SCENE III.
Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl!—O, you are men of
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
Fall, and cease!
That ever I have felt.
O my good master !
Lear. Pr'ythee, away.
What is 't thou say'st ?-Her voice was ever soft,
ACT III. SCENE I.
ATHER, to arms!
Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums,—
Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce,
Against mine uncle.
Blanche. The sun's o'ercast with blood: Fair day, adieu !
Which is the side that I must go withal?