Gent. No, since. Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' th' town; Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers p. 1803 What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to see his daughter. Gent. Why, good sir? Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him; his own unkindness, That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights To his dog-hearted daughtersthese things sting His mind so venomously that burning shame Detains him from Cordelia. Gent. Alack, poor gentleman! Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? Gent. 'Tis so; they are afoot. Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up awhile. When I am known aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you go Along with me. Exeunt. Scene IV. The French camp.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers. Cor. Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea, singing aloud, Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flow'rs, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn. A century send forth. Search every acre in the high-grown field And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.] What can man's p. 1804 wisdom In the restoring his bereaved sense? He that helps him take all my outward worth. Doct. There is means, madam. Our foster nurse of nature is repose, The which he lacks. That to provoke in him Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish. Cor. All blest secrets, All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him! Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life That wants the means to lead it. Enter Messenger.

Mess. News, madam. The British pow'rs are marching hitherward. Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands In expectation of them. O dear father, It is thy business that I go about. Therefore great France My mourning and important tears hath pitied. No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right. Soon may I hear and see him! Exeunt. Scene V. Gloucester's Castle. p. 1805 Enter Regan and [Oswald the] Steward. Reg. But are my brother's pow'rs set forth? Osw. Ay, madam. Reg. Himself in person there? Osw. Madam, with much ado. Your sister is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?

Osw. No, madam. Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him? Osw. I know not, lady. Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out, To let him live. Where he arrives he moves All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone, In pity of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life; moreover, to descry The strength o' th' enemy. Osw. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow. Stay with us. The ways are dangerous. Osw. I may not, madam. My lady charg'd my duty in this business. Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you Transport her purposes by word? Belike, SomethingI know not whatI'll love thee muchLet me unseal the letter. Osw. Madam, I had ratherReg. I know your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that; and at her late being here She gave strange eliads and most speaking looks To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.