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 skies
Gallow thy very wanderers 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
The affliction, nor the fear.
[carry

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,

Unwhipt of juftice! Hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjur'd and thou similar man of virtue
That art incestuous! Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient feeming
Hath practis'd on man's life!-Clofe pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
Thefe dreadful fummoners grace! I am a man,
More finn'd against than finning.

Kent. Alack, bare-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 houfe
(More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
F

Deny'd

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 ftrange,

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, ho, 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 hovel.

[Exit. Fool This a brave night to cool a courtezan. I'll speak 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 heretics burn'd, but wenches fuitors:
Then comes the time, who lives to fee't,
That going fhall be us'd with feet.—
When every cafe in law is right;
No fquire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When flanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cut-purfes come not to throngs;
When ufurers tell their gold i' the field;
And bawds and whores do churches build ;-
Then fhall the realm of Albion
Come to great confufion.

This

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

[Exit.

SCENE III. An Apartment in GLOSTER's Caftle

Enter GLOSTER, and EDMUND.

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this un natural dealing: When I defir'd their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own houfe; charg'd me, on pain of their perpetual difpleasure, neither to fpeak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.

Edm. Moft favage, and unnatural!

I

Glo. Go to; fay you nothing: There is divifion between the dukes; and a worse matter than that I have received a letter this night;-'tis danger ous 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 feekhim, 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 must be relieved. There is fome ftrange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful.

[Exit. Edm. This courtefy, 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 lefs than all:
The younger rifes, when the old doth fall. [Exit,

SCENE IV. A Part of the Heath, with a Hovel.

Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool.

Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, The tyranny of the open night's too rough [enter; For nature to endure. [Storm fill.

Lear. Let me alone.

Kent. Good my lord, enter here.

Lear. Wilt break my heart?

Kent. I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord,

enter.

Lear. Thou think'ft 'tis much, that this contentiInvades us to the skin: fo 'tis to thee; [ous ftorm But where the greater malady is fix'd,

The leffer is fcarce felt. Thou'dft shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging fea,
Thou'dit meet the bear i' the mouth. When the
mind's free,

The body's delicate: the tempeft in my mind
Doth from my fenfes take all feeling elfe,
Save what beats there Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth fhould tear this hand,
For lifting food to't?-but I will punish home:→
No, I will
weep no more. In fuch a night
To fhut me out! Pour on; I will endure:-
In fuch a night as this! O Regan! Goneril!-
Your old kind father, whofe frank heart gave you
O, that way madness lies; let me fhun that; [all-
No more of that-

Kent. Good, my lord, enter here.

Lear. Prythee, go in thyfelf; feek thine own eafe; This tempeft will not give me leave to ponder On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in

ti

In, boy; go firft.[To the Fool.] You houfelefs

poverty

Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll fleep.-
[Fool goes in
Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How fhall your houseless heads, and unfed fides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggednefs, defend you
From feafons fuch as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take phyfic, Pomp;
Expofe thyself to feel what wretches feel;
That thou may'ft thake the fuperflux to them,
And fhew the heavens more just.

Edg. [Within.] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!

Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a fpirit. Help me, help me! [The Fool runs out from the hovel. Kent. Give me thy hand.-Who's there?

Fool. A fpirit, a spirit! he says his name's poor

Tom.

Kent. What art thou that doft grumble there i' Come forth. [the ftraw?

Enter EDGAR, difguifed as a Madman.

Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me!. Through the fharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. Lear. Haft thou given all to thy two daughters? And art thou come to this?

Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the fool fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; fet ratsbane by his porridge: F 3 made