____ Lear. By whome, by heau'n I'le be resolued.
king Let him goe Gertred, away, I feare him not,
There's fuch diuinitie doth wall a king,
That treason dares not looke on.
Let him goe Gertred, that your father is murdred,
T'is true, and we most sory for it,
Being the chiefest piller of our state:
Therefore will you like a most desperate gamster,
Swoop‐stake‐like, draw at friend, and foe, and all?
Lear. To his good friends thus wide I'le ope mine arms,
And locke them in my hart, but to his foes,
I will no reconcilement but by bloud.
king Why now you speake like a most louing sonne:
And that in soule we sorrow for for his death,
Your selfe ere long shall be a witnesse,
Meane while be patient, and content your selfe.
Enter Ofelia as before. Lear. Who's this, Ofelia? O my deere sister!
I'st possible a yong maides life,
Should be as mortall as an olde mans sawe?
O heau'ns themselues! how now Ofelia?
Ofel. Wel God a mercy, I a bin gathering of floures:
Here, here is rew for you,
You may call it hearb a grace a Sundayes,
Heere's some for me too: you must weare your rew
With a difference, there's a dazie.
Here Loue, there's rosemary for you
For remembrance: I pray Loue remember,
And there's pansey for thoughts.
Lear. A document in madnes, thoughts, remembrance:
O God, O God!
Ofelia There is fennell for you, I would a giu'n you
Some violets, but they all withered, when
My father died: alas, they say the owle was
A Bakers daughter, we see what we are,
But can not tell what we shall be.
For
Prince of Denmarke. For bonny sweete Robin is all my ioy.
Lear. Thoughts & afflictions, torments worse than hell.
Ofel. Nay Loue, I pray you make no words of this now:
I pray now, you shall sing a downe,
And you a downe a, t'is a the Kings daughter
And the false steward, and if any body
Aske you of any thing, say you this.
To morrow is saint Valentines day,
All in the morning betime,
And a maide at your window,
To be your Valentine:
The yong man rose, and dan'd his clothes,
And dupt the chamber doore,
Let in the maide, that out a maide
Neuer departed more.
Nay I pray marke now,
By gisse, and by saint Charitie,
Away, and fie for shame:
Yong men will doo't when they come too't:
By cocke they are too blame.
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.
So would I a done, by yonder Sunne,
If thou hadst not come to my bed.
So God be with you all, God bwy Ladies.
God bwy you Loue. exit Ofelia.
Lear. Griefe vpon griefe, my father murdered,
My sister thus distracted:
Cursed be his soule that wrought this wicked act.
king Content you good Leartes for a time,
Although I know your griefe is as a floud,
Brimme full of sorrow, but forbeare a while,
And thinke already the reuenge is done
On him that makes you such a haplesse sonne.
Lear. You haue preuail'd my Lord, a while I'le striue,
To bury griefe within a tombe of wrath,53
H2 Which
