[Rising] Never, Regan:
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:
All the stored vengeances of heaven fall

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!

Corn.

Fie, sir, fie! Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, [flames You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, To fall and blast her pride!

Reg. O the blest gods! so will you wish on me,
When the rash mood is on.
[curse:
Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give

Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; but thine
Do comfort and not burn. Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And in conclusion to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in: thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;

Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.

Reg.

Good sir, to the purpose. Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks?

[Tucket within. Corn. What trumpet 's that? Reg. I know 't, my sister's: this approves her That she would soon be here. [letter,

Enter Oswald.

Is your lady come? Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. Out, varlet, from my sight! Corn. What means your grace? Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope [heavens, Thou didst not know on 't. Who comes here?

Enter Goneril.

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,

Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!
[To Gon.] Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?
O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?
Gon. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I
All's not offence that indiscretion finds [offended?
And dotage terms so.
Lear.
O sides, you are too tough;
Will you yet hold? How came my man i' the stocks?
Corn. I set him there, sir: but his own disorders
Deserved much less advancement.
Lear.

You did you?
Req. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me:
I am now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage against the enmity o' the air;
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,—
Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg

To keep base life afoot. Return with her?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom.
[Pointing at Oswald.
Gon.
At your choice, sir.
Lear. I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad:
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
We'll no more meet, no more see one another:
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or rather a disease that 's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil,
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it :
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure:
I can be patient: I can stay with Regan,
I and my hundred knights.
Reg.
Not altogether so:
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But she knows what she does.
Lear.
Is this well spoken?
Reg. I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one
Should many people, under two commands, [house,
Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible.

Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance

From those that she calls servants or from mine? Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you,

We could control them. If you will come to me,-
For now I spy a danger,-I entreat you
To bring but five and twenty: to no more
Will I give place or notice.
Lear. I gave you all-

Reg.
And in good time you gave it.
Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be follow'd
With such a number. What, must I come to you
With five and twenty, Regan? said you so ?
Reg. And speak 't again, my lord; no more with
[favour'd,
Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-
When others are more wicked; not being the worst
Stands in some rank of praise. [To Gon.] I'll go
with thee;

me.

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,
And thou art twice her love.
Gon.
Hear me, my lord:
What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?
Reg.
What need one?
Lear. O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life 's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true
need,-
[need!
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the word shall- I will do such things,-

What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep:

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!

[Exeunt Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool. Storm and tempest. Corn. Let us withdraw; 't will be a storm. Reg. This house is little: the old man and his people

Cannot be well bestow'd.

Re-enter Gloucester. Glou. The king is in high rage. Corn.

Whither is he going? Glou. He calls to horse; but will I know not whither. [self. Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himGon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. Glou. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about [winds There's scarce a bush. O, sir, to wilful men,

Reg.

Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors:
He is attended with a desperate train;
And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. [night:
Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 't is a wild
My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm.
[Exeunt.

Storm still. Enter Kent and a Gentleman, meeting.

Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquiKent. I know you. Where's the king? [etly. Gent. Contending with the fretful element; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, [hair, That things might change or cease; tears his white Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury, and make nothing of; Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all.

[couch,

But who is with him? who labours to outjest

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 be cover'd
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
Who have-as who have not, that their great stars
Throned 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 borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
Whereof perchance these are but furnishings;
But, true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open banner. Now to you:
If on my credit you dare build so far

To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The king hath cause to plain.

I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer
This office to you.

No, do not.

Gent. I will talk further with you. Kent. 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,-show her this ring;
And she will tell you who your fellow is
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the king.

[say? Gent. Give me your hand: have you no more to Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet; [your pain That, when we have found the king,-in which That way, I'll this, he that first lights on him [Exeunt severally.

Holla the other.

SCENE II.—Another part of the heath. Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool.

Lear. Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout [blow! Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!

You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thun-
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!

[der,

Good

Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house
is better than this rain-water out o' door.
nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing: here's
a night pities neither wise man nor fool. [rain!
Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout,
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 despised old man:
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! Ö! 't is foul!
Fool. He that has a house to put 's 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 many.

The man that makes his toe
What he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe,

And turn his sleep to wake.

Fool. Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise man and a fool. [night Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? things that love 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 The affliction nor the fear.

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 't is raised;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
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, [hovel.
That can make vile things precious. Come, your
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee.

Fool. [Singing] He that has and a little tiny wit,-
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,-
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 courtezan.
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' tutors;
No heretics 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 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 confusion:

Then comes the time, who lives to see 't,
That going shall be used with feet.

This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-Gloucester's castle. Enter Gloucester and Edmund. Glou. 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; charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.

Edm. Most savage and unnatural!

Glou. Go to say you nothing. There's a division betwixt the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have received a letter this night; 't is dangerous to be spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet: these injuries the king now bears will be revenged home; there 's part of a power already footed: we must incline to the king. I will seek 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. Though I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the king my old master must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. [Exit.

Edm. This courtesy, 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 IV.-The heath. Before a hovel. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, The tyranny of the open night's too rough [enter: 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. [tious storm Lear. Thou think'st 't is much that this contenInvades us to the skin: so 't is to thee; But where the greater malady is fix'd, The lesser is scarce felt. Thou 'ldst shun a bear; But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, Thou 'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth.

mind's free,

When the

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 this 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, Goneril!
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,-
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.

poverty,

Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
[Fool goes in.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.

Edg. [Within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!

[The Fool runs out from the hovel. Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, liere'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 dost grumble there i' the straw? Come forth.

Enter Edgar disguised as a madman. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two 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, and through ford and whirlipool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trottinghorse over four-inched_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, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I have him now, and there, and there again, and there. [Storm still. Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? [all? Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. [air Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. [nature

Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdued 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! 't was this flesh begot Those pelican daughters.

Edg. Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill: Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!

Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

Edg. Take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; 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 serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served 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 heaven: one that slept in the contriving of lust, 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 silks 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 suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.

Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.
[Storm still.
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. Thou owest 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 itself: unaccommodated man is no more
but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
Off, off, you lendings! come, unbutton here.
[Tearing off his clothes.
Fool. Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 't is a naughty
night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field
were like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all
the rest on 's body cold. Look, here comes a walk-
ing fire.

Kent. Who's there? What is 't you seek? Glou. What are you there? Your names? Edg. Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stock-punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear;

But mice and rats, and such small deer, Have been Tom's food for seven long year. Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!

Glou. What, hath your grace no better company? Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman: Modo he 's call'd, and Mahu.

[lord, Glou. Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.

Glou. Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer To obey in all your daughters' hard commands: Though their injunction be to bar my doors, And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, Yet have I ventured to come seek you out, And bring you where both fire and food is ready. Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher. What is the cause of thunder? [house. Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; go into the Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned What is your study? [Theban. Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. Lear. Let me ask you one word in private. Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord; His wits begin to unsettle.

Glou. Canst thou blame him? [Storm still. His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent! He said it would be thus, poor banish'd man! Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, I am almost mad myself: I had a son, Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life, But lately, very late: I loved him, friend; No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee, The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this? I do beseech your grace,— Lear. O, cry you mercy, sir. Noble philosopher, your company. Edg. Tom 's a-cold. [warm.

I

Glou. In, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee Lear. Come, let's in all.

Kent.

Lear.

This way, my lord.

With him;

will keep still with my philosopher.

Kent. Good my lord, soothe him; let him take

the fellow.

Glou. Take him you on.

Kent. Sirrah, come on; go along with us.
Lear. Come, good Athenian.

Glou. No words, no words: hush.
Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still,- Fie, foh, and fum,

I smell the blood of a British man. [Exeunt.