(Line differences from Q1 are in brackets, lines in F1 only are in italics)
Act 4 Scene 7
A tent in the French camp near Dover.
LEAR on a bed asleep, soft music playing
Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor
O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work,
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.
To be acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more nor clipped, but so.
Then be’t so, my good lord. How does the king?
Madam, sleeps still.
So please your majesty
That we may wake the king: he hath slept long.
Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed
I’ the sway of your own will. Is he arrayed?
Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep
We put fresh garments on him.
Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt [not] of his temperance.
Please you, draw near. Louder the music there.]
O my dear father! Restoration hang
Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
Kind and dear princess.
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
To be opposed [exposed] against the jarring [warring] winds?
[To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning? to watch — poor perdu!–
With this thin helm?] Mine enemy’s [injurious] dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire. And wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
‘Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.
Madam, do you; ’tis fittest.
How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
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?
You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die?
Still, still, far wide!
He’s scarce awake; let him alone awhile.
Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abused. I should e’en die with pity
To see another thus. I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands. Let’s see,
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
Of my condition!
O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o’er me.
[No, sir,] you must not kneel.
Pray, do not mock me.
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And to deal plainly
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you and know this man,
Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments, nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me,
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
And so I am, I am.
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.
Am I in France?
In your own kingdom, sir.
Do not abuse me.
Be comforted, good madam; the great rage,
You see, is killed [cured] 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.
Wilt please your highness walk?
You must bear with me:
Pray you now, forget and forgive. I am old and foolish.
[Exit all but KENT and Gentleman
Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
Most certain, sir.
Who is conductor of his people?
As ’tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.
They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl
of Kent in Germany.
Report is changeable. ‘Tis time to look about; the
powers of the kingdom approach apace.
The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you
My point and period will be throughly wrought,
Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.]