Enter with drum and colours, Cordelia, Physician and Soldiers.

CORDELIA: 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.

PHYSICIAN: 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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