7. Scene VII. A Tent in the French Camp. Lear on a bed, asleep, soft music playing; Physician, Gentleman, and others attending.
[Enter Cordelia, and Kent.]
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.
To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more nor clipp'd, but so.
Be better suited:
These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
I pr'ythee, put them off.
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.
Then be't so, my good lord. [To the Physician.] How, does the
Madam, sleeps still.
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!
So please your majesty
That we may wake the king: he hath slept long.
Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?
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.
Please you draw near.--Louder the music there!
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!
Kind and dear princess!