Kent.
Who's there besides foul weather?

Gent.
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

Kent.
I know you: Where's the King?

Gent.
Contending with the fretful Elements;
Bids the wind blow the Earth into the Sea,
Or swell the curled Waters 'bove the Main,
That things might change, or cease.

Kent.
But who is with him?

Gent.
None but the Fool, who labours to out-jest
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 is cover'd
With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall:
Who have, as who have not, that their great Stars
Thron'd and set high, Servants who seem no less,
Which are to France the Spies and Speculations
Intelligent of our State. What hath been seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the Dukes,
Or the hard Rein which both of them have born
Against the old kind King; or something deeper,
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings—

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, shew her that Ring,
And she will tell you who this Fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fy 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,
Hollow the other. [Exeunt. 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-executing 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 Germains 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 Nuncle, in, ask thy Daughter's 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 Battels, '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:

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.

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 Codpiece, that's a Wiseman, 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
Th' affliction, nor the fear.

Lear.
Let the great Gods,
That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged Crimes
Unwhipt of Justice. Hide thee, thou bloody 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 self. 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
That's sorry yet for thee.
Fool.
He that has and a little tyne wit,
With heigh 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'll speak a Prophecy e'er I go;
When Priests are more in words, than matter,
When Brewers marr 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 Cut-purses come not to throngs,
When Usurers tell their Gold i'th' 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. SCENE II. An Apartment in Gloster's Castle. Enter Gloster and Bastard.

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, 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 between 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 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 look 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 threatned me, the King my old Master must he relieved. There is strange things toward, Edmund, pray you be careful.

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. SCENE III. 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. [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 storm
Invades us to the Skin so; 'tis to thee;
But where the greater Malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a Bear,
But if thy flight light toward the roaring Sea,
Thou'dst meet the Bear i'th' 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 his 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, Gonerill,

Your old kind Father, whose frank Heart gave all—
O that way madness lyes, let me shun that,
No more of that.

Kent.
Good my Lord, enter here.

Lear.
Prithee go in thy self, 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. You houseless Poverty— [Exit Fool.
Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep—
Poor naked Wretches, where so e'er you are
That bide the pelting of this pitiless Storm,
How shall your houseless Heads, and unfed sides,
Your lop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O I have ta'en
Too little care of this; take Physick, Pomp,
Expose thy self to feel, what Wretches feel,
That thou may'st shake the Superflux to them,
And shew the Heav'ns more just. Enter Edgar, disguis'd like a Madman and Fool.

Edg.
Fathom and half, Fathom and half! poor Tom.

Fool.

Come not in here Nuncle, here's a Spirit, help me, help me.

Kent.

Give me thy Hand, who's there?

Fool.

A Spirit, a Spirit, he says his Name's poor Tom.

Kent.

What art thou that do'st grumble there i'th' Straw? Come forth.

Edg.

Away, the foul Fiend follows me, through the sharp Hawthorn blow the Winds. Humph, go to thy Bed and warm thee.

Lear.

Didst thou give all to thy Daughters? And art thou come to this?

Edg.

Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul Fiend hath led through Fire, and through Flame, through Sword, and Whirlpool, o'er Bog, and Quagmire, that hath laid Knives under his Pillow, and Halters in his Pue; set Ratsbane by his Porredge, made him proud of Heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, over four arch'd Bridges, to course his own shadow for a Traitor, bless thy five Wits, Tom's a cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de, bless thee from Whirle-winds, Star-blasting, and taking, do

poor Tom some Charity, whom the foul Fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and here again, and there.

Lear.
Have his Daughters brought him to this pass?
Could'st thou save nothing? would'st thou give 'em all?

Fool.

Nay, he reserv'd a Blanket, else we had been all sham'd.

Lear.
Now all the Plagues that in the pendulous Air
Hang fated o'er Mens faults, light on thy Daughters.

Kent.
He hath no Daughters, Sir,

Lear.
Death, Traitor, nothing could have subdu'd Nature
To such a Lowness, but his unkind Daughters.
Is it the Fashion, that discarded Fathers?
Should have thus little mercy on their Flesh:
Judicious Punishment, 'twas this Flesh begot
Those Pelican Daughters.

Edg.
Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill, alow; alow, loo, loo.

Fool.

This cold Night will turn us all to Fools, and Madmen.

Edg.

Take heed o'th' foul Fiend, obey thy Parents, keep thy word, do Justice, swear not, commit not with Man's sworn Spouse; set not thy Sweet-heart on proud array. Tom's a cold.

Lear.

What hast thou been?

Edg.

A Servingman, proud in Heart, and Mind: That curl'd my Hair, wore Gloves in my Cap, serv'd the Lust of my Mistress Heart, and did the act of darkness with her. Swore as many Oaths, as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet Face of Heav'n. One, that slept in the contriving of Lust, and wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd I dearly; Dice dearly; and in Woman, out-paramour'd the Turk. False of Heart, light of Ear, bloody handed. Hog in sloth, Fox in stealth, Wolf in greediness, Dog in madness, Lion in prey. Let not the creaking of Shooes, nor the rustling of Silks, betray thy poor Heart to Woman. Keep thy Foot out of Brothels, thy Hand out of Plackets, thy Pen from Lenders Books, and defie the foul Fiend. Still through the Hawthorn blows the cold Wind: Says suum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my Boy, Boy Sessey: Let him trot by.

Lear.

Thou wert better in a Grave, than to answer with thy uncover'd Body, this extremity of the Skies. Is Man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the Worm no Silk, the Beast no Hide, the Sheep no Wool, the Cat no perfume. Ha! Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing it self; unaccommodated Man, is no more but such a poor, bare, forked Animal as thou art. Off, off you Lendings: Come, unbutton here.

Fool.

Prethee Nuncle be contented; 'tis a naughty Night to swim in. Now a little Fire in a wild Field, were like an old Letcher's Heart, a small Spark, and all the rest on's Body, cold; look, here comes a walking Fire.

Edg.

This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he begins at Curfew, and walks at first Cock; he gives the Web and the Pin, squints the Eye, and makes the Hair-lip; Mildews the white Wheat, and hurts the poor Creature of the Earth.