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  • Title: King Lear (Quarto 2, 1619)
  • Editor: Pervez Rizvi
  • Coordinating editor: Michael Best
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-463-9

    Copyright Michael Best. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Pervez Rizvi
    Not Peer Reviewed

    King Lear (Quarto 2, 1619)

    The History of King Lear.
    With better phrase and matter then thou did st.
    Edg. Y'are much deceiued, in nothing am I changd,
    But in my garments.
    Glo. Me thinkes y'are better spoken.
    2445 Edg. Come on sir, here's the place, stand still, how fearfull
    And dizy tis to ca st ones eye so low:
    The Crowes and Choughes that wing the midway ayre
    Shew scarse so gro s s e as beetles, halfe way downe
    2450 Hangs one that gathers Sampire, dreadfull trade,
    Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head:
    The fi shermen that walke vpon the beake
    Appeare like Mice; and yon tall Anchoring barke
    Dimini sht to her cocke; her cocke aboue
    2455 Almo st too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
    That on the vnnumbred idle peebles chafe,
    Cannot be heard: it is so hie Ile looke no more
    Lea st my braine turne, and the deficient sight
    Topple downe headlong.
    2460 Glo. Set me where you stand.
    Edg. Giue me your hand: you are now within a foot
    Of the extreme verge; for all beneath the Moone
    Would I not leape vpright.
    Glo. Let go my hand:
    2465 Heere friend's another purse, in it a Iewell
    Well worth a poore mans taking. Fairies and Gods
    Prosper it with thee: go thou farther off,
    Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going.
    Edg. Now fare you well good sir.
    2470 Glo. With all my heart.
    Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire, tis done to cure it.
    Glo. O you mighty Gods, He kneels
    This world I do renounce, and in your sights
    2475 Shake patiently my great affliction off,
    If I could beare it longer, and not fall
    To quarrell with your great opposele s s e wils,
    My snuffe and loathed part of nature should
    Burne it selfe out: if Edgar liue, O ble s s e,