Another Part of the Heath. Storm still. |
|
Enter LEAR and Fool. |
Lear. Blow, winds, 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 thunderbolts, |
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, |
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 man nor fool. |
Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, 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: then, let fall |
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, |
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd 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! O! 'tis foul. |
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. |
Kent. Who's there? |
Fool. Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise man and a fool. |
Kent. Alas! sir, are you here? things that love night |
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. |
Lear. Let the great gods, |
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, |
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, |
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, |
Unwhipp'd of justice; hide thee, thou bloody hand; |
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular of virtue |
That art incestuous; caitiff, to pieces shake, |
That under covert and convenient seeming |
Hast practis'd on man's life; close pent-up guilts, |
Rive your concealing continents, and cry |
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man |
More sinn'd against than sinning. |
Kent. Alack! bare-headed! |
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 stone whereof 'tis rais'd,— |
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, |
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. |
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart |
That's sorry yet for thee. |
Fool. | He that has a little tiny wit, |
| With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, |
| Must make content with his fortunes fit, |
| Though 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 us'd with feet. |
This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time. [Exit. |
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