Lear on a bed, asleep, soft music playing; Physician, Gentleman and others attending.

Enter Cordelia and Kent.

CORDELIA. 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.

KENT. To be acknowledg’d, madam, is o’erpaid. All my reports go with the modest truth; Nor more, nor clipp’d, but so.

CORDELIA. Be better suited, These weeds are memories of those worser hours: I prythee put them off.

KENT. Pardon, dear madam; Yet to be known shortens my made intent. My boon I make it that you know me not Till time and I think meet.

CORDELIA. Then be’t so, my good lord. [To the Physician.] How, does the King?

PHYSICIAN. Madam, sleeps still.

CORDELIA. O you kind gods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature! The untun’d and jarring senses, O, wind up Of this child-changed father.

PHYSICIAN. 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?

PHYSICIAN. Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep We put fresh garments on him. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; I doubt not of his temperance.

CORDELIA. Very well.

PHYSICIAN. Please you draw near. Louder the music there!

CORDELIA. 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!

KENT. Kind and dear princess!

CORDELIA. Had you not been their father, these white flakes Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face To be oppos’d against the 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 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.

PHYSICIAN. Madam, do you; ’tis fittest.

CORDELIA. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

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.

CORDELIA. 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 daylight? I am mightily abus’d. 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 assur’d Of my condition!

CORDELIA. O, look upon me, sir, And hold your hands in benediction o’er me. No, sir, you must not kneel.

LEAR. 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.

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.

CORDELIA. No cause, no cause.

LEAR. Am I in France?

KENT. In your own kingdom, sir.

LEAR. Do not abuse me.

PHYSICIAN. Be comforted, good madam, the great rage, You see, is kill’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 you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

[Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician and Attendants.]

GENTLEMAN. Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?

KENT. Most certain, sir.

GENTLEMAN. Who is conductor of his people?

KENT. As ’tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.

GENTLEMAN. They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.

KENT. Report is changeable. ’Tis time to look about; the powers of the kingdom approach apace.

GENTLEMAN. The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you well, sir.

[Exit.]

KENT. My point and period will be throughly wrought, Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.

[Exit.]