Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about There's scarce a bush. Reg. O, sir, to wilful men, The injuries, that they themselves procure, Must be their schoolmasters: Shut up your doors; And what they may incense him to, being apt Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night; My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm. [Exeunt. A storm is heard, with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, meeting. Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather, most un quietly. Kent. I know you; Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful element: That things might change, or cease: tears his white hair; Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 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 out jest His heart-struck injuries. Kent. Sir, I do know you; And dare, upon the warrant of my art, 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 Corn wall; Who have (as who have not, that their great stars 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. No, do not. 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 F do not know. Fie on this storm! That yet you do not know. I will go seek the king. Gent. Give me your hand: Have you no more to say? 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, [Exeunt severally. SCENE II. ANOTHER PART OF THE HEATH. STORM 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! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thun der, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once, That make ingrateful man! Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing; here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools. Lear. Rumble thy bellyfull! Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: Fool. He that has a house to put his 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. -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 say nothing. |