Reg.

O, sir, to wilful men,

The injuries that they themselves procure

Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors:
He is attended with a desperate train ;

And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.

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

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

310

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. A heath.

Storm still. Enter KENT and a Gentleman,

meeting.

Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather?

Gent. One minded like the weather, most un

quietly.

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,

12. cub-drawn, with udders drawn dry, famished.

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 out

jest

His heart-struck injuries.

Kent.

Sir, I do know you;

There is division,

And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
Commend a dear thing to you.

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
Throned 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;

18. note, information.

19. dear, momentous.

24. speculations, observers.

20

30

40

And from some knowledge and assurance 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 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!
I will go seek 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,-in which your pain

That way, I'll this, he that first lights on him
Holla the other.

50

[Exeunt severally

SCENE II.

Another part of the heath.

Storm still.

Enter LEAR and Fool.

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

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 thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking
thunder,

52. to, as to.

53. pain, i.e. labour of search

(lies).

2. hurricanoes, waterspouts.

4. thought-executing, doing execution with the speed of thought.

5. Vaunt-couriers, heralds.

Smite 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 man nor fool.

Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! 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 despised 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! 'tis 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.

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.

7. Smite, so Qq; Ff 'strike.' 8. spill, destroy.

10. court holy-water, flattery. 18. subscription, submission. 22. have... join'd; so Qq.

Ff 'will . . join.'

23. high- engender'd battles, battalions engendered in the air. 27. cod-piece, a part of male dress.

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience;

I will say nothing.

Enter KENT.

Kent. Who's there?

Fool. Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; 40 that's a wise man and a fool.

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,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue
That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practised 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.

Kent.

50

Alack, bare-headed! 60

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;

Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest: