Page 1900 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

GLOUCESTER

You ever-gentle Gods, take my breath from me:
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!

EDGAR
Well pray you, father.

GLOUCESTER

Now, good sir, what are you? [215]

EDGAR

A most poor man, made tame to Fortune’s blows;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I’ll lead you to some biding.

GLOUCESTER
Hearty thanks:

The bounty and the benison of Heaven [220]
To boot, and boot!

Enter Oswald.

OSWALD
A proclaim’d prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram’d flesh

To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out
That must destroy thee.

GLOUCESTER
Now let thy friendly hand [225]

Put strength enough to’t.
(Edgar interposes.)

OSWALD