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As full of grief as years; wretched in both;
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger;
Oh, let not womens' weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnat❜ral hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,

That all the world fhall-I will do fuch things-
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth! you think, I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep. I have full cause of weeping:
This heart fhall break into a thousand flaws,
Or ere I weep. Oh, gods, I fhall go mad! [Exeunt.

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BLOW

LOW winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow!

You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout

'Till you have drench'd our fteeples, drown'd the

cocks!

You

You fulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,

Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,

Strike flat the thick rotundity o'th' world;
Crack nature's mould, all germins fpill at once
That make ungrateful man!

Kent. Not all my best entreaties can perfuade him Into fome needful fhelter, or to 'bide

This poor flight cov'ring on his aged head,
Expos'd to this wild war of earth and Heav'n.

[Thunder.

Lear. Rumble thy belly full, fpit fire, fpout 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 fubfcription. Then let fall Your horrible pleasure ;-here I ftand your flave; A poor, infirm, weak, and defpis'd old man! But yet I call you fervile minifters, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul. Kent. Hard by, Sir, is a hovel that will lend Some fhelter from this tempeft.

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience: I will fay nothing.

Kent.

Kent. Alas, Sir! things that love night, Love not fuch nights as thefe : the wrathful skies Gallow the very wand'rers of the dark,

And make them keep their caves: fince 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.

Lear. Let the great gods,

That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now! Tremble, thou wretch,
That haft within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand!
Thou perjure, and thou fimular of virtue,
That art inceftuous! caitiff, fhake to pieces,
That under covert and convenient feeming,
Haft practis'd on man's life !-Clofe pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and afk
These dreadful fummoners grace !-I am a man,
More finn'd against, than finning.

Kent. Good Sir, to the hovel!

Lear. My wits begin to turn.

Come on, my boy. How doft, my boy? art cold? I'm cold myself. Where is the ftraw, my fellow? The art of our neceffities is ftrange,

That can make vile things precious. Come, your

hovel!

Alack!

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Enter Glocester and Edmund.

Gloc. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing; when I defired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charg'd me on pain of perpetual difpleasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way fuftain him.

Edm. Moft favage and unnatural!

Gloc. Go to; fay you nothing. There is divifion between the dukes, and a worse matter than that I have receiv'd a letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken! (I have lock'd the letter in my closet:) thefe injuries, the king now bears, will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed; we must incline to the king: I will look for him, and privily relieve him; go you, and maintain talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceiv'd. If he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed; if I die for it, as no less is threaten'd me, the king my old master must be relieved. There are ftrange things toward, Edmund; pray you be careful. [Exit.

Edm.

Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, fhall 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 rifes when the old doth fall. [Exit.

Scene changes to a part of the heath with a hovel.

Enter Lear and Kent.

Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord,

The

enter;

tyranny o'th'

open night's too rough

For nature to endure.

Lear. Let me alone.

Kent. Good my lord, enter here.

Lear. Wilt break my heart?

Kent. I'd rather break mine own; good my lord,

enter.

Lear. Thou think'ft 'tis much, that this conten

tious ftorm

Invades us to the fkin; fo 'tis to thee;

But where the greater malady is fix'd,

The leffer is scarce felt. The tempest in my mind
Doth from my fenfes take all feeling else,
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not, as this mouth should tear this hand`

For

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