Gent. I will talke further with you

Kent. No, do not:

For confirmation that I am much more

Then my out-wall; open this Purse, and take

What it containes. If you shall see Cordelia,

(As feare not but you shall) shew her this Ring,

And she will tell you who that Fellow is

That yet you do not know. Fye on this Storme,

I will go seeke the King

Gent. Giue me your hand,

Haue you no more to say?

Kent. Few words, but to effect more then all yet;

That when we haue found the King, in which your pain

That way, Ile this: He that first lights on him,

Holla the other.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Storme still. Enter Lear, and Foole.

Lear. Blow windes, & crack your cheeks; Rage, blow

You Cataracts, and Hyrricano's spout,

Till you haue drench'd our Steeples, drown the Cockes.

You Sulph'rous and Thought-executing Fires,

Vaunt-curriors of Oake-cleauing Thunder-bolts,

Sindge my white head. And thou all-shaking Thunder,

Strike flat the thicke Rotundity o'th' world,

Cracke Natures moulds, all germaines spill at once

That makes ingratefull Man

Foole. O Nunkle, Court holy-water in a dry house, is

better then this Rain-water out o' doore. Good Nunkle,

in, aske thy Daughters blessing, heere's a night pitties

neither Wisemen, nor Fooles

Lear. Rumble thy belly full: spit Fire, spowt Raine:

Nor Raine, Winde, Thunder, Fire are my Daughters;

I taxe not you, you Elements with vnkindnesse.

I neuer gaue you Kingdome, call'd you Children;

You owe me no subscription. Then let fall

Your horrible pleasure. Heere I stand your Slaue,

A poore, infirme, weake, and dispis'd old man:

But yet I call you Seruile Ministers,

That will with two pernicious Daughters ioyne

Your high-engender'd Battailes, 'gainst a head

So old, and white as this. O, ho! 'tis foule

Foole. He that has a house to put's head in, has a good

Head-peece:

The Codpiece that will house, before the head has any;

The Head, and he shall Lowse: so Beggers marry many.

The man y makes his Toe, what he his Hart shold make,

Shall of a Corne cry woe, and turne his sleepe to wake.

For there was neuer yet faire woman, but shee made

mouthes in a glasse.

Enter Kent

Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience,

I will say nothing

Kent. Who's there?

Foole. Marry here's Grace, and a Codpiece, that's a

Wiseman, and a Foole

Kent. Alas Sir are you here? Things that loue night,

Loue not such nights as these: The wrathfull Skies

Gallow the very wanderers of the darke

And make them keepe their Caues: Since I was man,

Such sheets of Fire, such bursts of horrid Thunder,

Such groanes of roaring Winde, and Raine, I neuer

Remember to haue heard. Mans Nature cannot carry

Th' affliction, nor the feare

Lear. Let the great Goddes

That keepe this dreadfull pudder o're our heads,

Finde out their enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch,

That hast within thee vndivulged Crimes

Vnwhipt of Iustice. Hide thee, thou Bloudy hand;

Thou Periur'd, and thou Simular of Vertue

That art Incestuous. Caytiffe, to peeces shake

That vnder couert, and conuenient seeming

Ha's practis'd on mans life. Close pent-vp guilts,

Riue your concealing Continents, and cry

These dreadfull Summoners grace. I am a man,

More sinn'd against, then sinning

Kent. Alacke, bare-headed?

Gracious my Lord, hard by heere is a Houell,

Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the Tempest:

Repose you there, while I to this hard house,

(More harder then the stones whereof 'tis rais'd,

Which euen but now, demanding after you,

Deny'd me to come in) returne, and force

Their scanted curtesie

Lear. My wits begin to turne.

Come on my boy. How dost my boy? Art cold?

I am cold my selfe. Where is this straw, my Fellow?

The Art of our Necessities is strange,

And can make vilde things precious. Come, your Houel;

Poore Foole, and Knaue, I haue one part in my heart

That's sorry yet for thee

Foole. He that has and a little-tyne wit,

With heigh-ho, the Winde and the Raine,

Must make content with his Fortunes fit,

Though the Raine it raineth euery day

Le. True Boy: Come bring vs to this Houell.

Enter.

Foole. This is a braue night to coole a Curtizan:

Ile speake a Prophesie ere I go:

When Priests are more in word, then matter;

When Brewers marre their Malt with water;

When Nobles are their Taylors Tutors,

No Heretiques burn'd, but wenches Sutors;

When euery Case in Law, is right;

No Squire in debt, nor no poore Knight;

When Slanders do not liue in Tongues;

Nor Cut-purses come not to throngs;

When Vsurers tell their Gold i'th' Field,

And Baudes, and whores, do Churches build,

Then shal the Realme of Albion, come to great confusion:

Then comes the time, who liues to see't,

That going shalbe vs'd with feet.

This prophecie Merlin shall make, for I liue before his time.

Enter.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Gloster, and Edmund.

Glo. Alacke, alacke Edmund, I like not this vnnaturall

dealing; when I desired their leaue that I might pity him,

they tooke from me the vse of mine owne house, charg'd

me on paine of perpetuall displeasure, neither to speake

of him, entreat for him, or any way sustaine him

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