ACT III. SCENE I.

A Heath.

A Storm is heard, with Thunder and Lightning. Enter KENT, and a Gentlemen meeting.

Kent. Who's here, befide 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 fwell the curled waters 'bove the main,

That things might change, or ceafe: 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-fcorn

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.

Kent.

But who is with him?

Gent. None but the fool; who labours to outjest His heart-ftruck injuries.

Kent.

Sir, I do know

you;

And dare, upon the warrant of my art,

Commend a dear thing to you. There is divifion,
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 fet high?) fervants, who feem no lefs;
Which are to France the fpies and fpeculations

9

Intelligent

Intelligent of our ftate; what hath been seen,
Either in fnuffs 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,
Wife in our negligence, have secret feet
In fome of our best 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 affurance, offer
This office to you.

Gent. I will 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 shall,) fhow her this ring;
And she will tell you who your 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 lay? 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.

E 4

[Exeunt feverally.

SCENE

SCENE II,

Another Part of the Heath. Storm continues.

Enter LEAR and Fool,

Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout

Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You fulphurous 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 fpill 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 afk thy daughters bleffing; here's a night pities neither wife men nor fools.

Lear. Rumble thy bellyfull! Spit, fire! fpout, 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; why then let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and defpis'd old man :— But yet I call you fervile 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! 'tis foul!

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

The cod-piece that will house,

Before the head has any,

The

The bead and he shall loufe ;-
So beggars marry many.
The man that makes his toe

What be 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.

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 cod-piece; that's a wife man, and a fool.

Kent. Alas, fir, are you here? things that love night, Love not fuch nights as thefe; the wrathful fkies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,

And make them keep their caves: Since I was man,
Such fheets of fire, fuch burfts 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,

That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,

Find out their enemies now.

Tremble, thou wretch,

That haft within thee undivulged crimes,

Unwhipp'd of juftice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjur'd, and thou fimular man of virtue

That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming

Haft practis❜d on man's life!-Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry

Thefe dreadful fummoners grace.—I am a man,
More finn'd against, than finning.

Kent.

Kent.

Alack, bare-headed!

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;

Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest;
Repose you there: while I to this hard house,

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

Their fcanted courtesy.

Lear.

My wits begin to turn.—

Come on, my boy: How doft, my boy? Art cold?

I am cold myself.-Where is this ftraw, my fellow?
The art of our neceffities is strange,

That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel,
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart

That's forry yet for thee.

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit,—

With heigh, bo, the wind and the rain,—
Muft make content with his fortunes fit;
For the rain it raineth every day.

Lear. True, my good boy.-Come, bring us to this [Exeunt LEAR and KENT.

hovel.

Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.—I'll fpeak 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 hereticks burn'd, but wenches' fuitors:
When every case in law is right;

No fquire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When flanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurfes come not to throngs;
When ufurers tell their gold i' the field;

And bawds and whores do churches build;

Then