REG. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night

too.

KENT. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so.
REG.
Sir, being his knave, I will.
CORN. This is a fellow of the self-same colour
Our sister speaks of.-Come, bring away the stocks.
[Stocks brought in.
GLO. Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for 't: your purpos'd low correction
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches,
For pilferings and most common trespasses
Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill,
That he's so slightly valu'd in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.

I will preserve myself: and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape,
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth; Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,

My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril, his mistress, salutations;

Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots;
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity.-Poor Turlygood! poor Tom!
That's something yet; Edgar I nothing am.

[Exit.

Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.

KENT. Pray do not, sir: I have watch'd and
travell'd hard;

Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels:
Give you good morrow!

GLO. [Aside.] The duke 's to blame in this; 't will
be ill taken.
[Exit.
KENT. Good king, that must approve the common

saw,

Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may

Peruse this letter!-Nothing almost sees miracles,
But misery;-I know 't is from Cordelia;

Who hath most fortunately been inform'd

Of my obscured course, and she 'll find time

From this enormous state-seeking, to give

Losses their remedies. -All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.

Fortune, good night; smile once more; turn thy
wheel!

SCENE III.-A Wood.

Enter EDGAR.

EDG. I heard myself proclaim'd;
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,

[Sleeps.

Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape,

The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.

KENT. [Waking.] Hail to thee, noble master!
LEAR. Ha! Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
KENT.
No, my lord.
FOOL. Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters! Horses
are tied by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck,
monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs: when a
man is over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden
nether-stocks.

LEAR. What's he, that hath so much thy place
mistook,

Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend

The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine,
(Being the very fellow which of late
Display'd so saucily against your highness)
Having more man than wit about me, drew;

He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries:
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.

FOOL. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.

Fathers that wear rags,.

Do make their children blind;
But fathers that bear bags,

Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,

Ne'er turns the key to the poor.

But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.

LEAR. O, how this mother swells up toward my

heart!

KENT. Why, fool?

FOOL. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it: but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.

That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,

Will pack when it begins to rain,

And leave thee in the storm.

But I will tarry; the fool will stay,

And let the wise man fly:

The knave turns fool that runs away;

The fool no knave, perdy.

KENT. Where learned you this, fool?
FOOL. Not i' the stocks, fool.

Re-enter LEAR, with GLOUCESTER.

LEAR. Deny to speak with me? They are sick?
they are weary?
They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches;
The images of revolt and flying off.
Fetch me a better answer.
GLO.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremoveable and fix'd he is
In his own course.

LEAR. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion !-
Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall and his wife.
GLO. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.
LEAR. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me,

man?

Would with his daughter speak, commands her service:
Are they inform d of this?-My breath and blood!-
Fiery? the fiery duke ?-Tell the hot duke, that-
than No, but not yet :-may be, he is not well:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office.

My lord, when at their home
I did commend your highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd

Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
And am fall'n out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit

For the sound man.-Death on my state! wherefore
[Looking on KENT.

Should he sit here? This act persuades me,
That this remotion of the duke and her

Is practice only. Give me my servant forth:
Go, tell the duke and 's wife I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum
Till it cry sleep to death.

[Exit.

GLO. I would have all well betwixt you.
LEAR. O me, my heart, my rising heart !-but,
down!

FOOL. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapp'd 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, Down, wantons, down: 't was her brother, that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and
Servants.

LEAR. Good morrow to you both.
CORN.

Hail to your grace! [KENT is set at liberty.

REG. I am glad to see your highness.
LEAR. Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adultress.-O, are you free?

[To KENT.

Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O, Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here!—
[Points to his heart.

I can scarce speak to thee; thou 'lt not believe,
With how deprav'd a quality-O Regan!
REG. I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope,
You less know how to value her desert,

Than she to scant her duty.

LEAR.

Say, how is that?

REG. I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance,
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.

LEAR. My curses on her !

REG.

O, sir, you are old;

Nature in you stands on the very verge

Of her confíne: you should be rul'd, and led

By some discretion that discerns your state

Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;

Say you have wrong'd her, sir.

LEAR.

Ask her forgiveness?

Do you but mark how this becomes the house:

Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;

Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg,

[Kneeling.

That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.

REG. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks: Return you to my sister.

LEAR. [Rising]

Never, Regan!

She hath abated me of half my train;

Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart :-

All the stor❜d vengeances of heaven fall

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!

CORN.

Fie, sir, fie!

LEAR. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding

flames

REG.
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.
LEAR. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse;
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give

Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in: thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.
REG.

Good sir, to the purpose.
LEAR. Who put my man i' the stocks?
[Trumpets without.
CORN.
What trumpet's that?
REG. I know 't my sister's: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.-
Enter OSWALD.

Necessity's sharp pinch!-Return with her!
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg
To keep base life afoot.-Return with her!
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom. [Pointing to OSWALD.
GON.
At your choice, sir.
LEAR. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
We 'll no more meet, no more see one another :-
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or rather a disease that 's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil,
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;

O, sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold?-How came my man i' the stocks?
CORN. I set him there, sir: but his own disorders
Deserv'd much less advancement.
LEAR.

You! did you?
REG. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me;
I am now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

LEAR. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd!
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage against the enmity o' the air;
Is your lady come? To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,-

:

Let shame come when it will, I do not call it :
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure:
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I and my hundred knights.
REG.

Not altogether so:

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But she knows what she does.
LEAR.

Is this well spoken ?
REG. I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house,
Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible.

GON. Why might not you, my lord, receive atten- Are in the poorest thing superfluous : dance

From those that she calls servants, or from mine? REG. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd to slack ye,

We could control them. If you will come to me,
(For now I spy a danger) I entreat you

To bring but five and twenty; to no more.
Will I give place or notice.

LEAR. I gave you all--
REG.
And in good time you gave it.
LEAR.-Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be followed
With such a number. What, must I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, said you so?
REG. And speak 't again, my lord; no more with

Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm.-But, for true
need,-

You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need !
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both !
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks !-No, you unnatural 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:-

O, sir, to wilful men,

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep.-O, fool, I shall go mad!
[Exeunt LEAR, GLOUCESTER, KENT, and And what they may incense him to, being apt
Fool.-Storm heard at a distance.
CORN. Let us withdraw, 't will be a storm.
REG. This house is little; the old man and his
people

The injuries that they themselves procure
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors:
He is attended with a desperate train;

To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear.

CORN. Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night;

My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.
SCENE I. A Heath.

A storm, with thunder and lightning. Enter KENT I will go seek the king.
and a Gentleman, meeting.

KENT. Who's there, besides foul weather?
GENT. One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
KENT. I know you. Where's the king?
GENT. Contending with the fretful elements;

Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,

That things might change or cease; tears his white
hair,

Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.

This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all.

GENT. None but the fool; who labours to out-jest His heart-struck injuries.

KENT.

Sir, I do know you,
And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,-
Although as yet the face of it be cover'd

With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
Who have (as who have not, that their great stars
Thron'd and set high?) servants, who seem no less,
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes;
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings;-
But, true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open banner.-Now to you;
If on my credit you dare build so far

To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The king hath cause to plain.

I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer
This office to you.

GENT. I will talk further with you.
KENT.

For confirmation that I am much more

GENT. Give me your hand: have you no more to
say
KENT. Few words, but, to effect, more than all
yet,-

That, when we have found the king, (in which your
pain
That way, I'll this) he that first lights on him
Holla the other.

[Exeunt severally.

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the

cocks!

You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once.
That make ingrateful man!

FOOL. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house
is better than this rain-water out o' door. Good
nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing; here's a
night pities neither wise men nor fools.
LEAR. Rumble thy bellyfull! Spit, fire! 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 slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man:---
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 't is foul !
FOOL. He that has a house to put 's head in, has a
good head-piece.

The cod-piece that will house,
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse;-
So beggars marry many.

No, do not.

The man that makes his toe

Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,
(As fear not but you shall) show her this ring;
And she will tell you who your fellow is
That yet you do not know.-Fie on this storm!

What he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe,

And turn his sleep to wake.

- For there was never yet fair woman, but she made
mouths in a glass.

LEAR. No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing. Enter KENT.

KENT. Who's there? a wise man and a fool. FOOL. Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's

KENT. Alas, sir, are you here? things that love night,
Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,

And make them keep their caves: since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry
The affliction nor the fear.

LEAR.

Let the great gods,
Find out their enemies now.
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Tremble, thou wretch,

That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice!-Hide thee, thou bloody hand!
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular of virtue
Thou art incestuous!-caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practis'd on man's life!-Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace!-I am a man,
More sinn'd against than sinning.

Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart

That's sorry yet for thee.

FOOL. [Singing.]

He that has and a little tiny wit,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,—
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day.

LEAR. True, boy.-Come, bring us to this hovel.
[Exeunt LEAR and KENT.
FOOL. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.
I'll speak a prophecy ere I go:

When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;

When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors:
When every case in law is right;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs:
When usurers tell their gold i' the field;

And bawds and whores do churches build;-
Then shall the realm of Albion

Come to great confusion:

Then comes the time, who lives to see 't,

That going shall be us'd with feet.

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.

EDG. [Within.] Fathom and half, fathom and
half! poor Tom!

[The Fool runs out from the hovel.
FOOL. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit.
Help me, help me!

KENT. Give me thy hand.-Who's there!

FOOL. A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor
Tom.

KENT. What art thou that dost grumble there i' the

This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before straw? Come forth. his time.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-A Room in Gloucester's Castle.

Enter GLOUCESTER and EDMUND.

GLO. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.

EDM. Most savage and unnatural!

GLO. Go to; say you nothing. There is division between the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have received a letter this night; 't is dangerous to be spoken;-I have locked the letter in my closet: these 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 seek him, and privily relieve him: go you, and maintain talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived: if he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the king my old master must be relieved. There is strange things toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. [Exit.

EDM. This courtesy, forbid 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 rises when the old doth fall.

[Exit.

mind's free,

:

The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there.-Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to 't?-But I will punish home :-
No, I will weep no more.-In such a night
To shut me out!-Pour on; I will endure:-
In such a night as this!-O, Regan, Goneril!
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.

There could I have him now,-and there,-and there again,-and there.

Enter EDGAR, disguised as a Madman.
EDG. Away! the foul fiend follows me !-
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold
wind,-

Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
LEAR. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters?

LEAR. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own And art thou come to this?

ease:

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more.-But I'll go in :-
In, boy; go first.-[To the Fool.] You houseless
poverty,-
Nay, get thee in.

I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.-
[Fool goes in.

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Tlittle care of this! Take physic, pomp;

EDG. Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges; to course his own shadow for a traitor.-Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold.-O, do de, do de, do de.-Bless thee from whirlwinds, starblasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes.-There could I have him now, and there,-and there again,--and there,

[Storm continues.

Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 't was this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.

EDG. Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill;-
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!
FOOL. This cold night will turn us all to fools and
madmen.

EDG. Take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold.

LEAR. What hast thou been?

EDG. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it. Wine loved I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramoured the Turk; false of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand, hog in sloth, fox in stealth; wolf in