When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind

To suffer with the body. I'll forbear;

And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indisposed and sickly fit

For the sound man.-Death on my state! where-
fore
[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 his 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'd have all well betwixt you.
Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart!-but

I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepúlch'ring 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-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here :—
[Points to his heart.

I can scarce speak to thee: thou 'lt not believe
Of how depraved 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.

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 endowed.

That she would soon be here.-Is your lady come?
Lear. This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
Out, varlet, from my sight!

Thou didst not know of't.-Who Comes here?

O, heavens,

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 dismissed! No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o' the air; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl: 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. [Looking on the Steward. Gon. At your choice, sir.

Lear. I pr'y thee, 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 embosséd carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee:
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.

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? 't is hard; almost impossible.
Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive
attendance

From those that she calls servants, or from mine? Reg: Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you,

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. O reason not the need: our basest beggars

Are in the poorest thing superfluous :
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 a: age; wretched in both!
If it be you that these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger!
O let not women's weapons, water-drops,

No, I'll not weep:

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, Gloster, Kent, and Fool. Corn. Let us withdraw: 't will be a storm.

[Storm heard at a distance.

Reg. This house is little; the old man and his people

Cannot be well bestowed.

Gon. 'Tis his own blame: he hath put himself from rest,

And must needs taste his folly.

Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly;

But not one follower.

Corn. Followed the old man forth.--He is returned.

Re-enter GLOSTER.

Glo. The King is in high rage.
Corn. Whither is he going?

Glo. He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.

Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.

Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds

Do sorely ruffle: for many miles about
There's scarce a bush.

Reg. O, sir, to wilful men,
The injuries that they themselves procure
Must be their schoolmasters.

doors:

Shut up your

He is attended with a desperate train;
And what they may incense him too, being apt
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.

Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 't is a wild night:

My Regan counsels well. Come out o' the storm. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.-A Heath.

▲ Storm is heard, with thunder and lightning.

Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting.

Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather?

Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

Kent. I know you: where's the King? Gent. Contending with the fretful element: Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curvéd 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,

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 scattered kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To shew 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.

Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!

You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, 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, called you children;
You owe me no subscription: why then let fall
Your horrible pleasure: here I stand your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man :-
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters joined
Your high-engendered battles 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!
Fool. He that has a house to put his head in,
has a good head piece.

The codpiece that will house
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse:
So beggars marry many.

The man that makes his toe

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.

He that has a little tiny wit,

With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain,—
Must make content with his fortunes fit;
For the rain it raineth every day.
Lear. True, my good 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 burned 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;
Mhen usurers tell their gold i̇' 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 used with feet. This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.

[Exit.

SCENE III-A Room in GLOSTER'S Castle.

Enter GLOSTER 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 some strange thing 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.

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.
Lear. Pr'y thee, go in thyself; seek thine own 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.