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Lear. Never, Regan;
She has abated me of half my Train,
Look'd black upon me, ftab'd me with her Tongue:
Reg. Ŏ the bleft Gods! Thus will you wish on me,
When the rash Mood
Lear. No, Regan, Thou shalt never have my Curfe;
The Offices of Nature, Bond of Childhood,
Reg. Good Sir, to the Purpose.
Lear. Who put my Man i'th' Stocks?
Duke. What Trumpet's that?
Reg. I know't, my Sifter's; this confirms her Letters. Sir, is your Lady come?
Enter Goneril's Gentleman.
Lear. More Torture ftill:
This is a Slave, whose easy borrow'd Pride
Duke. What means your Grace?
Lear. Who stock'd my Servant? Regan, I have Hope Thou didst not know it.
Gon. Why not by th' Hand, Sir? How have I offended? All's not Offence that Indiscretion finds, And Dotage terms fo.
Lear. Heart, thou art too tough.
Reg. I pray you, Sir, being old, confefs you are fo. If till the Expiration of your Month, You will return and fojourn with our Sifter, Difmiffing half your Train, come then to me; I am now from Home, and out of that Provifion That fhall be needful for your Entertainment.
Lear. Return with her, and fifty Knights difmifs'd!
Lear. Now, I prithee, Daughter, do not make me mad;
Nor tell tales of thee to avenging Heav'n ;
Mend when thou canft, be better at thy Leisure;
I can be patient, I can ftay with Regan,
I, and my hundred Knights.
Reg. Your Pardon, Sir;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
Lear. Is this well spoken now?
Reg. My Sifter treats you fair; what! fifty Followers ? Is it not well? what fhould you need of more?
Gon. Why might not you, my Lord, receive Attendance From those whom the calls Servants, or from mine?
Reg. Why not, my Lord? If then they chance to flack We cou'd controul 'em.-If you come to me, For now I fee the Danger, I intreat you To bring but Five and twenty; to no more. Will I give Place.
Lear. Hold now, my Temper; stand this Bolt unmov'd, And I am Thunder-Proof;
The wicked, when compar'd with the more wicked,
Seem beautiful; and not to be the worst,
Gon. Hear me, my Lord.
What need you Five and Twenty, Ten, or Five,
Reg. What need one?
Lear. Blood! Fire! here Leprofies and blueft Room, room for Hell to belch her Horrors up, [Plagues! And drench the Circes in a Stream of Fire; Hark, how th' Infernals eccho to my Rage Their Whips and Snakes.
Reg. How lead a thing is Paffion!
[Light'ning and Thunder, Lear. Heav'ns drop your Patience down; You fee me here, ye Gods, a poor old Man, As full of Grief as Age, wretched in bothI'll bear no more. No, you unnatural Hags, I will have fuch Revenges on you both, That all the World fhall- I will do fuch things, What they are yet I know not, but they fhall be The Terrors of the Earth; you think I'll weep, [Thunder
This Heart fhall break into a thousand Pieces
The End of the Second Act.
SCENE A defert Heath.
Enter Lear and Kent in the Storm.
Of proud ingrateful Man.
Kent. Not all my belt Intreaties can perfuade him
Lear. Rumble thy fill, fight Whirlwind, Rain and Fire;
Kent. Hard by, Sir, is a Hovel, that will lend Some shelter from this Tempeft.
Lear. I will forget my Nature, what! fo kind a Fa-Ay, there's the Point.
Kent. Confider, good my Liege. Things that love
Love not fuch Nights as this; thefe wrathful Skies
And make 'em keep their Caves; fuch drenching Rain,
That keep the dreadful Pudder o'er our Heads,
Hide that bloody Hand,
Thou perjur'd Villain, holy Hypocrite,
Kent. Good Sir, to th' Hovel.
Come on my Boy, how doft my Boy Art cold?
And can make vile things precious; my poor Knave,
Baft. The Storm is in our louder Rev'lings drown'd. Thus wou'd I reign, cou'd I but mount a Throne. The Riots of thefe proud imperial Sifters Already have impos'd the galling Yoke Of Taxes, and hard Impofitions, on The drudging Peasants Necks, who bellow out Their loud Complaints in vain Triumphant Queens With what Affurance do they treat the Crowd ?Oh! for a Taste of such Majestick Beauty, Which none but my hot Veins are fit t'engage; Nor are my Wishes defp'rate, for even now, During the Banquet, I obferv'd their Glances Shot thick at me; and, as they left the Room, Each caft, by Stealth, a kind inviting Smile, The happy Earnestha! Two Servants, from feveral Entrances, deliver, bim each a Letter, and Ex. Where Merit is fo tranfparent, not to behold it [Reads