Lear.
Where have I been? Where am I?--Fair daylight,--
I am mightily abus'd.--I should e'en 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 assur'd
Of my condition!

Cor.
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,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.

Cor.
And so I am. I am.