ACT III. SCENE I. A Heath. A Storm is heard, with Thunder and Lightning. Enter KENT, and a Gentlemen meeting. Kent. Who's here, befide foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly. Kent. I know you; Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful element : Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or fwell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change, or ceafe: tears his white hair; Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all. Kent. But who is with him? Gent. None but the fool; who labours to outjest His heart-ftruck injuries. Kent. Sir, I do know you; And dare, upon the warrant of my art, Commend a dear thing to you. There is divifion, With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall; 9 Intelligent Intelligent of our ftate; what hath been seen, To make your speed to Dover, you shall find' I am a gentleman of blood and breeding; Gent. I will talk further with you. Kent. That yet you do not know. Fie on this ftorm! I will go feek the king. Gent. Give me your hand: Have you no more to lay? 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, Holla the other. E 4 [Exeunt feverally. SCENE SCENE II, Another Part of the Heath. Storm continues. Enter LEAR and Fool, Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, Crack nature's moulds, all germens fpill at once, Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in, and afk thy daughters bleffing; here's a night pities neither wife men nor fools. Lear. Rumble thy bellyfull! Spit, fire! fpout, 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; why then let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and defpis'd old man :— But yet I call you fervile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul! Fool. He that has a houfe to put his head in, has a good head-piece. The cod-piece that will house, Before the head has any, The The bead and he shall loufe ;- What be his heart should make, And turn his fleep 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 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, fir, are you here? things that love night, Love not fuch nights as thefe; the wrathful fkies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark, And make them keep their caves: Since I was man, Lear. Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That haft within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhipp'd of juftice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand; That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake, Haft practis❜d on man's life!-Close pent-up guilts, Thefe dreadful fummoners grace.—I am a man, Kent. Kent. Alack, bare-headed! Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest; (More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd; Their fcanted courtesy. Lear. My wits begin to turn.— Come on, my boy: How doft, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself.-Where is this ftraw, my fellow? That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel, That's forry yet for thee. Fool. He that has a little tiny wit,— With heigh, bo, the wind and the rain,— Lear. True, my good boy.-Come, bring us to this [Exeunt LEAR and KENT. hovel. Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.—I'll fpeak a prophecy ere I go: When priests are more in word than matter; No fquire in debt, nor no poor knight; And bawds and whores do churches build; Then |