ACT V.
3. Scene III. The British Camp near Dover.
(continued)
Edm.
What, you have charg'd me with, that have I done;
And more, much more; the time will bring it out:
'Tis past, and so am I.--But what art thou
That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble,
I do forgive thee.
Edg.
Let's exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me.
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us:
The dark and vicious place where thee he got
Cost him his eyes.
Edm.
Thou hast spoken right; 'tis true;
The wheel is come full circle; I am here.
Alb.
Methought thy very gait did prophesy
A royal nobleness:--I must embrace thee:
Let sorrow split my heart if ever I
Did hate thee or thy father!
Edg.
Worthy prince, I know't.
Alb.
Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father?
Edg.
By nursing them, my lord.--List a brief tale;--
And when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst!--
The bloody proclamation to escape,
That follow'd me so near,--O, our lives' sweetness!
That with the pain of death we'd hourly die
Rather than die at once!)--taught me to shift
Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain'd; and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
Never,--O fault!--reveal'd myself unto him
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd;
Not sure, though hoping of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart,--
Alack, too weak the conflict to support!--
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.
Edm.
This speech of yours hath mov'd me,
And shall perchance do good: but speak you on;
You look as you had something more to say.
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