Act IV, Scene iv: The French camp. A Tent.
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[Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers.]
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| | Cor.: | |
| | Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now | |
| | As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; | |
| | Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, | |
| | With harlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, | |
| | Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow | |
| | In our sustaining corn.—A century send forth; | |
| | Search every acre in the high-grown field, | |
| | And bring him to our eye.[Exit an Officer.] | |
| | What can man's wisdom | |
| | In the restoring his bereaved sense? | |
| | He that helps him take all my outward worth. | |
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| | Phys.: | |
| | There is means, madam: | |
| | Our foster nurse of nature is repose, | |
| | The which he lacks; that to provoke in him | |
| | Are many simples operative, whose power | |
| | Will close the eye of anguish. | |
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| | Cor.: | |
| | All bless'd secrets, | |
| | All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, | |
| | Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate | |
| | In the good man's distress!—Seek, seek for him; | |
| | Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life | |
| | That wants the means to lead it. | |
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| | Mess.: | |
| | News, madam; | |
| | The British powers are marching hitherward. | |
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| | Cor.: | |
| | 'Tis known before; our preparation stands | |
| | In expectation of them.—O dear father, | |
| | It is thy business that I go about; | |
| | Therefore great France | |
| | My mourning and important tears hath pitied. | |
| | No blown ambition doth our arms incite, | |
| | But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right: | |
| | Soon may I hear and see him! | |
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