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Lear. Oh, let me not be mad, not niad, sweet

heav'n!
Keep me in temper! I would not be mad!

Gon. Hear me, my lord;
What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you ?

Reg. What needs one?

Lear. O, reason not the need: our baseft beggars
Are in che poorest thing superfluous ;
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beasts. But for true need,
You heav'ns, give me that patience which I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as years; wretched in both ;
If it bę you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me noc.so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger;
O let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks ! No, you unnat'ral hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall = I will do such things,
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth : you think, I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep. I have full cause of weeping:
This heart shall break into a thoufand flaws,
Or ere I weep. O gods, I shall go mad ! (Exeunt,

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Lear. >80 LOW winds, and crack your cheeks;

rage, blow!

You cataracts, and hurricanoes,

spout Till you have drench'd our steeples,

drown'd the cocks ! You sulph'rous and thought-execucing fires, Vaunt couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, Singemy white head. And thou all thaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o'ch'world; Crack nature's mould, all germins spill at once That make ingrateful man.

Kent. Not all my best intreaties can perfuade him Into fome needful shelter, or to 'bide This poor flight cov’ring on his aged head, Expos’d to this wild war of earth and heav'n.

(Tbinder. Lear. Rumble thy belly full, spis firé, spout rain; Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters; I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children; You owe me no subscription. Then let fall Your horrible pleasure; — here I stand your Nave; A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man! But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters joyn'd

You

Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul.

Kent. Hard by, fir, is a hovel that will lend
Some shelter from this tempeft.

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience : I will say nothing.

Kent. 'Alas, Sir! things that love night, Love not such nights as these: the wrathful Skies Gallow the very wand'rers of the dark, And make them keep their arves: since I was man, Such Pheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never Remember to have heard.

Lear. Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That hast within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand: Thou perjure, and thou simular of vircue, That art incestuous : caitiff, shake to pieces, That under covert and convenient seeming, Haft practis'd on man's life:-Close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents, and ask These dreadful summoners grace.--I am a man, More finn'd against, than finning.

Kent. Good fir, to the hovel!

Lear. My wits begin to turn. Come on, my boy. How doft, my boy? art cold? I'm cold myself

. Where is the straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, your

hovel, Poor knave, I've one part in my heart, That's forry yet for thee." "I" SIA [Exeunt. SCENE, An Apartment in Glocefter's Castle,

Enter Glocester, and Edmundi, Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this un natural dealing; when I desired their leave that I

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might

.

might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house ; cbargd me on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, engreat for him, or any way sustain hin).

Eam. Most favage and unnatural !

Glo. Go to; lay you nothing. There is division between the Dukes, and a worse matter than that: I have receiv'd a let'er this night, 'uis dangerous to be spoken; (I have lock'd the letter in

my

closer:) the fe injuries, the king now bears, will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed; we must incline to the king: I will look for him, and privily relieve him; go you, and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceiv'd. If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed; if I die for it, as no less is threaten'd me, the king my old master must be relieved. There are strange things toward, Edmund; pray you be careful. [Exit.

Edm. This courtesy, torbid thee, shall the duke Instantly know, and of that letter too. This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my father. loses ; no less than all, The younger

rifes when the old doth fall. [Exit. SCENE changes to a Part of the Heath with a Hovel.

Enter Lear and Kent. Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord,

enter;
The tyranny oth’ open night's too rough
for nature to endure.

Lear. Let me alone.
Kent. Good my lord, enter here.
Leer. Wilt break my hearc?
Kent. I'd rather breaks mine own; good my lord,

enter. Lear. Thou think'ft'cis much, that this conten

* tious storm Invades us to the skin; fo 'cis to thee; But where the greater malady is fix,

The

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The lesser is scarce felt. The tempest in miy mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there. Fillal ingratitude hin:
Is it not, as this 'mouth should tear chis band
For lifting food to'r? -Bur I'll punish home. 'k vina
No, I will weep no more — In such a night, ;'!
To shut me oui? pour on, I will endure:
In such a nighe as chis?'

. O Regan, Gonerill,
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all-
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that ;
No more of that

Kent. Good my lord, enter here. Lear. Pr’ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease; This tempeft will not give me leave to ponder On things would hurt me more, but I'll go In, boy, go first. You houseless poverty --Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll neepm Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this piciless storm! How shall your houseless heads, and unfed fides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness defend you From seasons such as these? -O, I have ta'en Too little care of this! Take phyfic: pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou may'it shake the superflux to them, And shew the heav'ns more just.

Edg. within. Fathom and half, fathom and half!

in;

poor Tom.

Kent. What art thou, that doft grumble there i'th' ftraw? come forth.

Enter Edgar disguis'd like a Madman. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me. Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Humph, go to thy bed and warm thee.

Lear. Didst thou give all to thy daughters ? and are thou come to chis?

. Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through

flame,

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