Corn. Shut up your doors, my Lord, 'tis a wild night. My Regan counfels well: come out o' th' storm.

ACT III. SCENE I.

A heath:

[Exeunt.

A form is heard with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, feverally.

Kent. WHO's there, befides foul weather?

Gent. One minded like the weather, moft unquietly. Kent. I know you; where's the King? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the fea,

Or fwell the curled water 'bove the main,

That things might change or cease; tears his white hair;
[Which the impetuous blafts with eyelefs rage'
Catch in their fury and make nothing of *];
Strives in his little world of man t' outfcorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.

This night, wherein the cub-drawn + bear would couch,
The lion, and the belly-pinched folk

Keep their fur dry; unbonneted he runs,

And bids what will, take all.

Kent. But who is with him?

Gent. None but the fool, who labours to out-jeft

His heart-ftruck injuries.

Kent. Sir, I do know you,

And dare, upon the warrant of my note,

Commend a dear thing to you. There's divifion

(Although as yet the face of it is cover'd

With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ‡.

But

* These two lines in crotchets, are some player's trash. ti. e. whofe dugs are drawn dry by its young.

-'twixt Albany and Cornwall:

Who have (as who have not, whom their great stars
Throne and fet high!), fervants, who feem no less;
Which are to France the fpies and fpeculations
Intelligent of our state. What hath been seen,
Either in fnuffs and packings of the Dukes ;

Or

But true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this feathed kingdom; who already,.
Wife in our negligence, have fecret seize
In fome of our beit ports, and are at point
To fhow their open banner.-
Now to you,

If on my credit you dare build. fo far

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

I am a Gentleman of blood and breeding,
And, from fome knowledge and assurance of you;-
Offer this office.

Gent. I'll talk further with you.

Kent. No, do not:

For confirmation that I am much more

Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains. If you fhall fee Cordelia,
(As, fear not, but you fhall), fhew her that ring,
And the will tell you who this fellow is,

That yet you do not know. Fie on this ftorm!
I will go feek the King,

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, (for which you take That way, I this), he that first lights on him,

Halloo the other.

[Exeunt feverally.

SCENE II. Storm ftill. Enter Lear and fool.

Lear. Blow winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, You cataracts, and hurricanes, spout

[blow!

Till you have drench'd our fteeples, drown'd the cocks !
You fulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
[Vaunt couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts, +]
Singe my white head. And thou, all-fhaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world;
Crack nature's mould, all germins fpill at once

Or the hard rein, which both of them have borne
Against the old kind King; or fomething deeper,
Whereof, perchance, thefe are but furnishings--)
true it is, 6.

This line the players' spurious iffue.

That

That make ingrateful man!

Fool. O nuncle, court-holy-water in a dry houfe is better than the rain water out o' door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughter's bleffing; here's a night that pities neither wife men nor fools.

Lear. Rumble thy belly full, 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 fubfcription. Then let fall
Your horrible pleafure. Here I ftand, your brave;
A poor, infirm, weak, and defpis'd old man!
But yet I call you fervile minifters,

That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head

So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'Tis foul.,

Fool. He that has a houfe to put's head in, has a good head-piece.

The codpiece that will house before the head has any, The head and he fhall lowfe; fo beggars marry many. That man that makes his toe what he his heart should

make,

Shall of a corn cry woe, and turn his fleep to wake. For there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths in a glass.

SCENE III. To them, enter Kent.

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will fay nothing.

Kent. Who's there?

Fool. Marry, here's grace, and a codpiece, that's a wife man and a fool.

Kent. Alas, Sir, are you here? Things that love

night,

Love not fuch nights as thefe: the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wand'rers of the dark,

And make them keep their caves. Since I was man,
Such fheets of fire, fuch bursts of horrid thunder,

Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I

never

Remember to have heard.. Man's nature cannot carry

Th' affliction, nor the force.

+ fubfcription, for obedience.

Lear.

Lear. "Let the great gods,

"That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads,

"Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, "That haft within thee undivulged crimes,

"Unwhipp'd of justice! Hide thee, thou bloody hand; "Thou perjure, and thou fimular of virtue, "That art inceftuous! caitiff, fhake to pieces, "That, under cover of convivial feeming,

་་

"Haft practis'd on man's life!--Clofe pent-up guilts, "Rive your concealing continents, and afk Thefe dreadful fummoners grace!I am a man, : More finn'd againft, than finning.

Kent. Alack, bear-headed?

Gracious my Lord, hard by here is a hovel :

Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempeft:
Repofe you there, while I to this hard house

(More hard than is the ftone whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) return, and force
Their fcanted courtefy.

Lear. My wits begin to turn.

Come on, my boy. How doft, my boy? art cold?

I'm cold myself. Where is the ftraw, my fellow?
The art of our neceffities is ftrange,

That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel,
Poor fool and knave, I've one ftring in my heart
That's forry yet for thee.

Fool. He that has an a little tiny wit,

With high ho, the wind and the rain,
Muft make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day.

Lear. True, my good boy: come bring us to this hovel.

Fool. 'Tis a brave night to cool a courtezan.
I'll speak a prophecy or two ere I go.
When priests are more in words than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
No heretics burnt, but wenches' fuitors;
Then comes the time, who lives to fee't,
That going fhall be us'd with feet.

[Exit.

When

When every cafe in law is right,
No 'fquire in debt, and no poor knight;
When flanders do not live in tongues,
And cut-purfes come not to throngs;
When ufurers tell their gold i' th' field,
And bawds and whores do churches build;
Then fhall the realm of Albion

Come to great confufion.

This prophecy Merlin fhall make, for I do live before his time.

[Exit,

SCENE IV. An apartment in Glo'fer's caftle.

Enter Glofter and Edmund.

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatu ral dealing. When I defir'd their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the ufe of mine own houfe; charg'd me on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, intreat for him, or any way fuftain him. Edm. Moft favage and unnatural!

Glo. Go to; fay you nothing. There is divifion between the Dukes, and a worfe matter than that. I have receiv'd ́a letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken. (I have lock'd the letter in my clofet). Thefe 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 perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed; if I die for it, as no lefs is threaten'd me, the King my old mafter muft be relieved. There are ftrange things toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. [Exit.

Edm. This courtesy forbid thee, fhall the Duke
Inftantly know, and of that letter too.
This feems a fair deferving, and must draw me
That which my father lofes; no less than all.
The younger rifes, when the old doth fall.

[Exit,

SCENE