1 If you do stir abroad, go armed.
2 Give me thy arm: Poor Tom shall lead thee.
3 Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a trumpet.
4 Regan, I bleed apace: Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm.
5 Enter Lear with Cordelia dead in his arms; Edgar, Officer and others following.
6 Draw thy sword, That if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.
7 This is mere practice, Gloucester: By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd, But cozen'd and beguil'd.
8 Good friend, I prythee, take him in thy arms; I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him; There is a litter ready; lay him in't And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet Both welcome and protection.
9 The country gives me proof and precedent Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary; And with this horrible object, from low farms, Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills, Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, Enforce their charity.