Act 4, Scene 4
The same. A tent.
Enter, with drum and colours, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers.
Cordelia
Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now
As mad as the vexed sea; singing aloud;
Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
With hardocks, 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.
Doctor
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.
Cordelia
All blest secrets,
All you unpublished virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate
In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him;
Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it. Enter a Messenger.
Messenger
News, madam;
The British powers are marching hitherward.
Cordelia
'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 importuned tears hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love and our aged father's right:
Soon may I hear and see him! Exeunt.