The King has cause to 'plain.

I am a Gentleman of blood and breeding,

And, from some 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 shall see Cordelia,
(As, fear not, but you shall,) shew her that ring,
And she will tell you who this fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the King.
[to say?

Gent. Give me your hand, have you no more
Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet?
That when we've found the King, (for which you
That way, I this,) he that first lights on him, [take
Halloo the other.
[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

Storm still. Enter LEAR and Fool.

Lear. Blow winds and crack your cheeks; rage, You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout [blow! Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!

You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, [der, Singe my white head. And thou all-shaking thun

Strike flat the thick rotundity of the world;
Crack nature's mould, all germins spill at once
That make ingrateful man!

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

1

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 subscription. Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure.-Here I stand, your brave; !
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man!
But yet I call you servile ministers,

That have with two pernicious daughter's join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'Tis foul.

SCENE III.

To them, enter KENT.

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

Kent. Who's there?

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

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

night,

T

Love not such nights as these: the wrathful skies Gallow the very wand'rers 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 Th' affliction, nor the force.

Lear. Let the great gods,

[carry

That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, [hand;
Unwhipp'd of justice! Hide thee, thou bloody
Thou perjur'd, and thou similar man of virtue
That art incestuous! caitiff, shake to pieces,
That under cover of convivial seeming,

Hast practis'd on man's life!--Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and ask

These dreadful summoners grace!-I am a man, More sinn'd against, than sinning.

Kent. Alack, bare-headed!

Gracious my Lord, hard by here is a hovel: (57)
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;

(57) The whole of the shadowed part of the moon, viewed with the north side uppermost, may be considered as resembling a hovel.

Which even but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) return, and force
Their scanty courtesy.

Lear. My wits begin to turn.

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

[hovel, Come, your

I'm cold myself. Where is the straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious.
Poor fool and knave, I've one string in
That's sorry yet for thee.

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit,

my

heart

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

Lear. True, my good boy: come bring us to this hovel. [Exit. 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' suitors;
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going shall be us'd with feet.
When every case in law is right,
No 'squire in debt, and no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues,
And cut-purses come not to throngs ;

When usurers tell their gold i' th' field,
And bawds and whores do churches build;
Then shall the realm of Albion

Come to great confusion.

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

SCENE IV.

Enter GLO'STER and EDMUND.

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desir'd their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charg'd me on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, intreat for him, or 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 reciev'd a letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken. (I have lock'd 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 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