Page 27
p. 27
The
Tragedy
of
King
Lear.
Scena
Secunda.
Storm
still.
Enter
Lear,
and
Fool.
Lear.
Blow
winds,
and
crack
your
cheeks;
Rage,
blow
You
Cataracts,
and
Hurricano’s
spout,
’Till
you
have
drench’d
our
Steeples,
drown
the
Cocks.
You
Sulph'rous
and
thought-excuting
fires,
Vaunt-curriors
of
Oak-cleaving
Thunder-bolts,
Sindge
my
white
head.
And
thou
all-shaking
Thunder,
Strike
flat
the
thick
Rotundity
o’th’world,
Crack
nature’s
moulds,
all
germanes
spill
at
once
That
makes
ingrateful
Man.
Fool.
O
Nuncle,
Court
holy-water
in
a
dry
House
,
is
better
than
the
Rain-water
out
o’door.
Good
Nunkle,
in,
ask
thy
Daughters
blessing,
here’s
a
night
pities
neither
wise-
men,
nor
Fools.
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
Slave,
A
poor,
infirm,
weak,
and
despis’d
old
man:
But
yet
I
call
you
servile
Ministers,
That
will
with
two
pernicious
Daughters
join
Your
high-engender’d
Battles,
’gainst
a
head
So
old
and
white
as
this.
O,
ho!
’tis
foul.
Fool.
He
that
has
a
House
to
put’s
head
in,
has
a
good
Head
piece:
The
Codpiece
that
will
house,
before
the
head
has
any:
The
head,
and
he
shall
Lowse:
so
beggars
marry
many.
That
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
patience
of
all
patience.
I
will
say
nothing.
Kent.
Who’s
there?
Fool.
Marry
here’s
Grace,
and
a
Codpiece,
that’s
a
Wife-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
makes
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
Th’affliction,
nor
the
fear.
Lear.
Let
the
great
gods
That
keep
this
dreadful
pudder
o’re
our
heads,
Find
out
their
enemies
now.
Tremble
thou
Wretch,
That
hast
within
thee
undivulged
Crimes
Unwhipt
of
Justice.
Hide
thee,
thou
bloudy
hand;
Thou
Perjur’d,
and
thou
Simular
of
Virtue
That
art
incestuous.
Caitiff,
to
pieces
shake
That
under
covert
and
convenient
seeming
Has
practis’d
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
harder
than
the
Stones
whereof
’tis
rais'd,
Which
even
but
now,
demanding
after
you,
Deny’d
me
to
come
in)
return,
and
force
Their
scanted
courtesie.
Lear.
My
wits
begin
to
turn.
Come
on
my
boy.
How
dost
my
boy?
Art
cold?
I
am
cold
my
felf.
Where
is
this
straw,
my
fellow?
The
art
of
our
Necessities
is
strange,
And
can
make
vild
things
precious.
Come,
your
hovel;
Poor
Fool,
and
Knave,
I
have
one
part
in
my
heart
T
hat’s
sorry
yet
for
thee.
Fool.
He
that
has
and
a
little
tyne
wit,
With
height-ho,
the
Wind
and
the
Rain,
Must
make
content
with
his
fortunes
fit,
Though
the
Rain
it
raineth
every
day.
Lear.
True
boy:
come
bring
us
to
this
Hovel.
[Exit.
Fool.
This
is
a
brave
night
to
cool
a
Curtizan:
I'le
speak
a
propriety
o’re
I
go:
When
Priests
are
more
in
words,
than
matter:
When
Brewers
marre
their
Malt
with
water;
When
Nobles
are
their
taylor’s
tutors,
No
Hereticks
burn’d
but
wenches
Suitors,
When
every
Cafe
in
Law
is
right:
No
Squire
in
debt,
nor
no
poor
Knight:
When
Slanders
do
not
live
in
tongues;
Nor
Cut-purses
come
not
to
throngs;
When
Usurers
tell
their
Gold
ith’
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
do
live
before
his
time.
[Exit.
Scena
Tertia.
Enter
Gloster
and
Edmund.
Glo.
Alack,
alack,
Edmund,
I
like
not
this
unnatural
dea-
ling;
when
I
desired
their
leave
that
I
might
pitty
him,
they
took
from
me
the
use
of
mine
own
house,
charg’d
me
on
pain
of
perpetual
displeasure,
neither
to
speak
of
him,
entreat
for
him,
or
any
way
sustain
him.
Bast.
Most
savage
and
unnatural.
Glo.
Go
too;
say
you
nothing.
There
is
division
be-
tween
the
Dukes,
and
a
worse
matter
than
that:
I
have
received
a
Letter
this
night,
’tis
dangerous
to
be
spoken
I
have
lock’d
the
Letter
in
my
Closset,
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
him,
and
privily
relieve
him;
go
you
and
maintain
talk
with
the
Duke,
that
my
charity
be
not
of
him
percei-
ved;
if
he
ask
for
me,
I
am
ill,
and
gone
to
bed,
if
I
die
for
it,
(as
no
less
is
threatned
me)
the
King
my
old
Master
must
he
relieved.
There
is
strange
things
toward,
Edmund,
pray
you
be
careful.
[Exit.
Bast.
This
Courtesie
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.
[Exit.
Scena
Quarta.
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.
[Storm
still.
Lear.
Let
me
alone.
Kent.
Good
my
Lord,
enter
here.
Lear.
Wilt
break
my
heart?
Kent.
I
had
rather
break
mine
own,
Good
my
Lord
enter.
Lear.
Thou
think’st
’tis
much
that
this
contentious
Invades
us
to
the
skin
so:
’tis
to
thee,
(storm
But
where
the
greater
malady
is
fixt,
The
lesser
is
scarce
felt.
Thou’dst
shun
a
Bear,
I
i
i
2
But
99