Your horrible pleafure; here I fand, your flave;
A poor, infirm, weak, and defpis'd old man!
But yet I call you fervile minifters,

That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul.

Fool. He that has a houfe to put's head in, has a good head-piece:

The codpiece that will houfe, before the head has any, The head and he shall lowfe; fo beggars marry many. That man that makes his toe, what he his heart fhould make,

Shall of a corn cry woe, and turn his fleep to wake. For there was never yet fair woman, but the made mouths in a glafs.

To them, 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, Sir, are you here? things, that love night, Love not fuch nights as these : the wrathful skies Gallow the very wand'rers of the dark,

And make them keep their Caves: fince I was man,
Such sheets of fire, fuch 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 force.

Lear. Let the great Gods,

That keep this dreadful pudder 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 Perjure, and thou Simular of virtue,
That art incestuous: caitiff, shake to pieces,
That under covert and convenient feeming,

Haft practis'd on man's life! Clofe pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and ask

C 4

Thefe

I am a man,

Thefe dreadful fummoners grace.
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 ftone whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) return, and force
Their fcanted courtefie.

Lear. My wits begin to turn.

Come on, my boy. How doft, my boy? art cold?
I'm cold my felf. Where is the ftraw, my fellow ?
The art of our neceffities is ftrange,

That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel:
Poor fool and knave, I've one part in my heart,
That's forry yet for thee.

Fool. He that has an a little tynie wit,

With heigh ho, the wind and the rain;
Muft make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day.

Lear. True, my good boy: come, bring us to this hovel.

Fool. 'Tis a brave night to cool a curtezan.
I'll speak a prophecy, or ere 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' fuitors;
When cafe in law is right,

every

No 'Squire in debt, nor no poor Knight;
When flanders do not live in tongues,
And cut-purfes come not to throngs;
When ufurers tell their gold i' th' field,
And bawds and whores do churches build:
Then fhall the realm of Albion

Come to great confufion :

Then comes the time, who lives to fee't,
That Going fhall be us'd with feet..

[Exit.

This prophecy Merlin fhall make, for I do live before

his time.

Glo.

[Exit.

SCENE, An apartment in Glo'fter's caftie

Enter Glo'fter, and Edmund.

tural 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 perpetual displeasure,. neither to speak of him,, entreat for him, or any way. fuftain him.

Edm. Moft favage and unnatural !'

Glo Go to; fay you nothing. There is divifion be tween the Dukes, and a worse matter than that: I have receiv'd a letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken; (I have lock'd the letter in my closet:) thefe injuries, the King now bears, will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed; we muft incline to the King; I will look for him, and privily relieve him; go you, and maintain a talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceiv'd;, 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 muft be reliev'd. There are ftrange things toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. [Exit.. Edm. This courtefie, forbid thee, fhall the Duke. Inftantly know, and of that letter too. This feems a fair deferying, and muft draw meThat which my father lofes; no less than all. The younger rifes, when the. old doth fall.

[Exit:

SCENE changes to a part of the Heath with a Hovel.i

Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.

TERE is the place, my lord; good my lord,

Kent.

HE

enter.

Lear. Let me alone.

Kent. Good my lord, enter here.

Lear. Will't break my heart?

Kent. I'd rather break mine own; good my lord, enter.
Lear. Thou think'ft 'tis much, that this contentious
ftorm

Invades us to the skin; fo 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fixt,

The leffer is fcarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea,
Thou'dft meet the bear i'th' mouth. When the mind's free,
The body's delicate; the tempest 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?
No, I will weep no more
To fhut me out?
In fuch a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill,
Your old kind father, whofe frank heart gave all
O, that way madness lies; let me fhun that
No more of that

But I'll punish home;
In fuch a night,

pour on, I will endure:

Kent. Good my lord, enter here.

-

Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thy felf; feek thine own eafe; This Tempeft will not give me leave to ponder On Things would hurt me more- but I'll go in; In, boy, go firff. You houseless poverty Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll fleep Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitilefs ftorm! How fhall your houfelefs heads, and unfed fides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From feafons fuch as these? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this! take phyfick, Pomp; Expofe thy felf to feel what wretches feel, That thou may'ft fhake the fuperflux to them, And fhew the Heavens more just.

[poor Tom Edg. [within.] Fathom and half, fathom and half ! Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a fpirit; help me, help me. [The Fool runs out from the bowel.

Kent.

Kent. Give me thy hand, who's there?`

Fool. A fpirit, a fpirit; he says, his name's poor Tom. Kent. What art thou, that doft grumble there i'th' ftraw come forth.

Enter Edgar, difguis'd like a Madman.

Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me. Through the fharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Humph, go to thy bed and warm thee.

Lear. Didft 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 ford and whirpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; fet ratsbane by his Porridge, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horfe, over four inch'd. bridges, to courfe his own fhadow for a traitor, bless thy five wits; Tom's a-cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de; bless thee from whirl-winds, ftar-blafting, and taking; do poor Tom fome charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and here again, and there. [Storm fill.

Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this país?

Coud'st thou fave nothing? did't thou give 'em all? Fool. Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, elfe we had been all fhamed.

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 fubdu’d.

nature

To fuch a lownefs, but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flefh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.

Edg. Pillicack fat on pillicock hill, halloo, hallco,. Loo, loo!