For those that mingle reason with your passion, Is this well spoken? Lear. Hold amity? "Tis 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 chanc'd 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 Lear. I gave you all— Reg. And in good time you gave it. Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; With such a number. What, must I come to you Reg. And speak 't again, my lord; no more with me. Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty, Gon. [To GONERIL Hear me, my lord; What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, Reg. ? What need one? Lear. O, reason not the need: our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous : Allow not nature more than nature needs, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, That all the world shall-I will do such things- I have full cause of weeping; but this heart [Exeunt LEAR, GLOSTER, KENT, and Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm. Gon. "Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest, Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, But not one follower. Gon. So am I purpos'd. Where is my Lord of Gloster ? Corn. Follow'd the old man forth :—he is return'd. 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 high winds Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about There's scarce a bush. Reg. O, sir, to wilful men, Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors; And what they may incense him to, being apt Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night : My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm. [Exeunt. SCENE I-A Heath. A storm, with thunder and lightning. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting. Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly. 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; Strives in his little world of man to outscorn 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, Kent. But who is with him? Gent. None but the fool; who labours to outjest His heart-struck injuries. Kent. Sir, I do know you; And dare, upon the warrant of my note, Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, Although as yet the face of it be cover'd With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall; To make your speed to Dover, you shall find The king hath cause to plain. I am a gentleman of blood and breeding; Gent. I will talk further with you. Kent. No, do not. |