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;
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. Fye 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, Holloa the other.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt severally.

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 sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white bead! And thou, all-shaking thunder,

Strike 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 daughter's blessing! Here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools.

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; why, then let fall
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd 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 his 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.

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 cod-piece; 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 perjur'd, 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.

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,
Denied me to come in), return, and force
Their scanted courtesy.

Lear.

My wits begin to turn,Come on, my boy: How dost, my boy? Art cold?

I am cold myself.-Where is this straw, my fellow?

The art of our necessities is strange,

That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel,

Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee.

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit,

With a heigh, ho, the wind and the rain,-
Must make content with his fortunes fit;

For the rain it raineth every day.

Lear. True, my good boy.-Come, bring us to

this hovel.

[Exeunt LEAR and KENT. Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. -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 hereticks burn'd, but wenches' suitors:

When every case in law is right;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i' the field;
And bawds and whores do churches build :-
Then shall the realm of Albion

Come to great confusion.

Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going shall be us'd with feet.

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

[Exit.

SCENE III. A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter GLOSTER and EDMUND.

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing; When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor 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 received a letter this night;

'tis dangerous to be spoken:-I have locked 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 seek 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 less is threatened me, the king my old master must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund: pray you, be careful. [Exit. Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke Instantly know; and of that letter too :This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my father loses; no less than all: The younger rises, when the old doth fall.

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, enter:

The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure.

Lear.

[Storm still.

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'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm

Invades us to the skin so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i'the mouth. When the
mind's free,

The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there.-Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
For lifting food to't?-But I will punish home :-
No, I will weep no more.-In such a night
To shut me out!-Pour on; I will endure :-
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!-
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave

all,

O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; No more of that,

Kent.

Good, my lord, enter here. Lear. 'Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease;

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder On things would hurt me more.-But I'll go in: In, boy; go first.-[To the Fool.] You houseless

poverty,

Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.[Fool goes in. Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,