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But yet I call you servile ministers,
The codpiece that will house,
And turn his sleep to wake. For there was never yer fair woman, but Me made mouths in a glass.
Enter Kent. rar. 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 wise man and a fool.
Kent. Alas, Sir, are you here? Things that love night,
Lear. Let the great Gods,
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man,
Kent. Alack, bare-headed !
my Lord, hard by here is a hovel ;
Lear. My wits begin to turn.
With, heigh he! the wind and the rain,
Though the rain it raineth every day.
[Exit. Fool. 'Tis a brave night to cool a courtezan. I'll speak a prophecy ere I go.
When priests are more in words than matter i
case in law is right,
Come to great confusion. This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I do live before his time.
No. XXIV.KING LEAR.
Act III. Scene IV. Changes to a part of the Heath
with a Hovel.
. 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
-In such a night,
Kent. Good my Lord, enter here.
in. In boy, go firft. (To the Fool.] You houseless poverty – Nay, get thee in ; I'll pray, and then I'll fleep-[Fool goes in.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
your houselefs heads, and unfed fides,
Kent. Give me thy hand. Who's there?
Tom. Kent. What art thou, that dost grumble there i' the straw? Come forth.
Enter Edgar, disguised like a Madman. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows-me. Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. 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 ford and through whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire ; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew;
fet ratsbane by his porridge; inade him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horle over four-inch'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 whirlwinds, 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 ftill. Lear. 'What! have his daughters brought him to this
pass? Couldst thou save nothing ? didst thou give 'em all? Fool. Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all
ashain'd. Lear. Now all the plagues, that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters !
Kent. curled my
Kent. He hath no daughters, Sir.
Lear. Death! traitor. Nothing could have fubdued 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 beget Those pelícan daughters.
Edg. Pillicock fat on pillicock-hill, Halloo, halloo, loo, loo !
Fool. This cold night will turn us all to foolsand madmen
Edg. Take heed of the foul fiend. Obey thy parents. Keep thy word juftly. Swear not. Commit not with man's · sworn fpouse. Set not thy fweet heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold.
Lear. What haft thou been?
ir, wore gloves in my cap, served the luft of my mistress's 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 heaven. One that slept in the contriving luft, and waked to do it. Wine loved I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand, hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of filks, betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: says fuum, mun, nonny, dolphin, my boy, boy, Sefey, let him trot by.
[Storm ftill. Lear. Why thou wert better in thy grave, than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies-
Is man no more than this? Consider him well :
[Tearing off his clothes. Foal. Pr’ythee, nuncle, be contented: 'tis a naughty night