SCENE II.
Another Part of the Heath. Storm continues.
Enter Lear and Fool.
Lear.
Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks6 note
! rage! blow!
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing7 note fires,
-- 139 --
Vaunt-couriers8 note
to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat9 note the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once1 note
,
That make ingrateful man!
Fool.
O nuncle, court holy-water2 note
in a dry house
-- 140 --
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 bellyfull! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax* note not you, you elements, with unkindness,
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription3 note
; 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† note
Your high-engender'd battles‡ note, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul4 note!
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 many5 note
.
-- 141 --
The man that makes his toe
What he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe6 note
,
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 nothing7 note
.
Kent.
Who's there?
Fool.
Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece;
that's a wise man, and a fool8 note
.
Kent.
Alas, sir, are you here9 note? things that love night,
Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark1 note
,
-- 142 --
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 fear2 note.
Lear.
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother3 note
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* note of virtue
That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming4 note
Hast practis'd on man's life!—Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents5 note
, and cry
-- 143 --
These dreadful summoners grace6 note
.—I am a man7 note
,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Kent.
Alack, bare-headed8 note!
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* note whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
-- 144 --
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 heart9 note
That's sorry yet for thee1 note
.
Fool.
He that has a little tiny wit,—
With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain2 note
,—
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 courtezan3 note.
—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' tutors4 note;
No hereticks burn'd, but wenches' suitors5 note
:
-- 145 --
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 confusion6 note
.
Then comes the time7 note, 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.
-- 146 --
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
