You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing* fires, Vaunt courierst to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, thunder, And thou, all shaking Strike flat the thick rotundity o'the world! Fool. O nuncle, court holy watert in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o'door.-Good nun. cle, in and ask thy daughters' blessing: here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools. Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: The cod-piece that will house, Before the head has any, What he his heart should make, Shall of a corn cry woe, And turn his sleep to wake. Quick as thought. + Avant couriers, French. A proverbial phrase for fair words. § Obedience. -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 carry The affliction, nor the fear, Let the great gods, Lear. Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, Unwhipp'd of justice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand; These dreadful summoners grace.—I am a man, Kent. Alack, bare-headed! Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some friendship will it fend you'gainst the tempest; Repose you there: while I to this hard house (More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd; Scare or frighten. Blustering noise. Appearance. Il Favour, 2 Which even but now, demanding after you, 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. hovel, Come, your 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 heigh, ho, the wind and the rain,Must make content with his fortunes fit; For the rain it raineth every dayt. this hovel. Lear. True, my good boy.-Come, bring us to [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; No squire in debt, nor no poor knight; Come to great confusion. Then comes the time, who lives to see't, This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time. * Enquiring. [Exit, + Part of the Clown's song in Twelfth Night. SCENE III. A room in Gloster's castle. Enter Gloster and Edmund. Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing: When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him. Edm. Most savage, and unnatural! Glo. Go to; say you nothing: There is division between the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have received a letter this night;-'tis dangerous to be spoken;-I have locked the letter in my closet: these injuries the king now bears will be revenged at home; there is part of a power already footed*: we must incline to the king. I will seek him, and privily relieve him: go you, and maintain talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived: If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the king my old master must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. [Exit. Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke Instantly know; and of that letter too :This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my father loses; no less than all: The younger rises, when the old doth fall. A force already landed. [Exit. SCENE IV. A part of the heath, with a hovel. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: The tyrauny of the open night's too rough For nature to endure. Lear. [Storm still. Let me alone. Kent. Good my lord, enter here. Wilt break my heart? Kent. I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord, enter. Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee; The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear: But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind's free, The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind No more of that, Kent. Good my lord, enter here. Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease; This tempest will not give me leave to ponder |