Enter CORDELIA, KENT disguised, GENTLEMAN, and DOCTOR
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 acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid.
5All my reports go with the modest truth,
Nor more, nor clipped, but so.
Be better suited.
These weeds are memories of those worser hours.
I prithee, put them off.
Pardon, dear madam.
Yet to be known shortens my made intent.
10My boon I make it that you know me not
Till time and I think meet.
Then be ’t so, my good lord.—
How does the king?
Madam, sleeps still.
O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abusèd nature,
Th' untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up,
15Of this child-changèd father!
So please your majesty
That we may wake the king? He hath slept long.