I am mightily abus’d.—I should even die with pity,
To see another thus.—I know not what to say.——
I will not swear these are my hands:—let’s see;
I feel this pin prick. ‘Would I were assured
Of my condition.
Cordelia. O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o’er me:——
No, sir, you must not kneel.
Lear. Pray, do not mock me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,