My naked head expos'd to th' merciless air,
Than have my smallest wants supply'd by her.
Gon. At your choice, sir.

Lear. Now, I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell;

Let shame come when it will, I do not call it;

I do not bid the thunder-bearer strike,

Nor tell tales of thee to avenging heaven.
Mend when thou canst be better at thy leisure;—
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,

I, and my hundred knights.

Reg. Your pardon, sir;

I looked not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome.

Lear. Is this well spoken now?

Reg. My sister treats you fair. What! fifty followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more?

Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance

From those whom she calls servants, or from mine?

Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chance to slack

you,

We could control them.—If you come to me,

For now I see the danger, I entreat you

To bring but five-and-twenty; to no more
Will I give place.

Lear. I gave you all!

Reg. And in good time you gave it.

Lear. Hold now, my temper, stand this bolt unmov'd,

And I am thunder-proof.—

(It egin to ra n.) G

n. ear me m lord.

What need yon five-and-twenty, ten, or five,

To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command t'attend you?

Reg. What need one?

(Distant thunder.

Lear. Heav'ns, drop your patience down!
You see me here, ye gods! a poor old man,
As full of grief as age, 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!
O, let not women's weapons, water drops,

Stain my man's cheek!—No you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,

That all the world shall—I will do such things,—
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth.—(Crosses to l.h.)—You think I'll
weep;

No, I'll not weep:—

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, (1)
Or ere I'll weep.--

O, gods, I shall go mad!

(Rain and thunder.)

[Exeunt, King Lear, Kent, and the Knights, l h Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Gloster, Oswald, Captain of the Guard, and Attendants, into the Castle.

end of act ii.

ACT III.

SCENE I.—A Desert Heath.

(Lamps down.—Rain, thunder, and lightning.)
Enter Lear and Kent, l.h.s.e.

Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout

'Till you have drench'd our steeples!

You sulph'rous and thought-executing (2) fires,

Vaunt couriers (3) to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,

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, (4)
That make ingrateful man!

(1) A flaw, signifying a crack, or other similar imperfection. Our uthor, with his accustomed license, uses the word here for a small broken particle.

(2) Doing execution with rapidity equal to thought.

(3) Avant couriers. Fr. This phrase is not unfamiliar to other writers of Shakspeare's time. It originally meant the foremost scouts of an army.

(4) Crack nature's mould, and all the seeds of matter, that are hoarded within it.—To spill is to destroy,

Kent. Not all my best intreaties can persuade him Into some needful shelter, or to 'bide

This poor slight cov'ring on his aged head,

Exposed to this wild war of earth and heav'n.

(Thunder, lightning, and rain.)

Lear. Rumble thy fill fight whirlwind, rain, and fire!

Not fire, wind, rain, or thunder, are my daughters;

I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness;

I never gave you kingdoms, called you children;
You owe me no obedience.—Then let fall

Your horrible pleasure !—Here I stand your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man.—

(Rain, thunder, and lightning.)

Yet I will call you servile ministers,

That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high engender'd battle 'gainst a head

So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul! (1)
Kent. Hard by, sir, is a hovel, that will lend

Some shelter from this tempest.

Lear. I will forget my nature. What! so kind a father!—
Ay, there's the point. (Rain, thunder, and lightning.)
Kent. Consider, good my liege, things that love night,
Love not such nights as this; these wrathful skies
Gallow (2) the very wanderers of the dark,

And make them keep their caves; such drenching rain,
Such sheets of fire, such claps of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring winds, have ne'er been known.
(Thunder very loud)

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 undiscovered crimes !—

Hide, hide, thou murd'rer, hide thy bloody hand!—
Thou perjur'd villain, holy hypocrite,

That drink'st the widow's tears, sigh now, and ask
These dreadful summoners (3) Grace !—I am a man
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Crosses to r.h.)

(1) shameful; dishonorable.

(2) Gallow, a west country word, signifies to scare or frighten. (3) Summoners are here the officers that summon offenders before a proper tribunal.

Kent. Good sir, to th' hovel.

Lear. My wits begin to turn.

Come on, my boy; How dost, my boy? art cold?
I'm cold myself: shew me this straw, my fellow;
The art of our necessity is strange,

And can make vile things precious—My poor knave,
Cold as I am at heart, I've one place there
That's sorry yet for thee.

(Rain-Thunder—Lightning.-Exeunt, r.h

SCENE II.—A Room in Gloster's Castle.
Enter Edmund, r.h.

Edm. The storm is in our louder rev'lings drown'd.
Thus wou'd I reign, could I but mount a throne.
The riots of these proud imperial sisters
Already have imposed the galling yoke
Of taxes, and hard impositions, on

The drudging peasant's neck, who bellows out
His loud complaints in vain.—Triumphant queens!
With what assurance do they tread the crowd!
Oh! for a taste of such majestic beauty,
Which none but my hot veins are fit t'engage;
Nor are my wishes desp'rate; for ev'n now,
During the banquet, I observ'd their glances
Shot thick at me; and, as they left the room,
Each cast by stealth, a kind inviting smile,
The happy earnest—ha!

Enter two Pages, from different entrances, they deliver
him each a letter, and exeunt, r.h. and l.h.
(Reads.)—Where merit is so transparent, not to behold
it were, blindness, and not to reward it, ingratitude.

Enough blind and ungrateful should I be,

Not to obey the summons of this oracle.
Now for the second letter.

GONERIL.

(Reads.)—If modesty be not your enemy, doubt not to

find me your friend.

Excellent Sibyl! O my glowing blood!

REGAN.

I am already sick with expectation,

And pant for the possession.—Here Gloster comes,
With business on his brow; be hush'd, my joys.

Enter Gloster, l.h.

Glost. I come to seek thee, Edmund, to impart a business of importance. I know thy loyal heart is touched to see the cruelty of these ungrateful daughters against our royal master.

Edm. Most savage and unnatural.

Glost. This change in the state sits uneasy. The commons repine aloud at their female tyrants; already they cry out for the re-instalment of their good old king, whose injuries, I fear, will inflame them into mutiny.

Edm. 'Tis to be hop'd not feared.

Glost. Thou hast it boy; 'tis to be hop'd indeed.
On me they cast their eyes, and hourly court me
To lead them on; and, whilst this head is mine,
I'm theirs. A little covert craft, my boy,
And then for open action; 'twill be employment
Worthy such honest daring souls as thine,
Thou, Edmund, art my trusty emissary.
Haste on the spur, at the first break of day,
With these dispatches to the Duke of Cambray.

(Gives him letters)

You know what mortal feuds have always flam'd
Between this Duke of Cornwall's family, and his;
Full twenty thousand hardy mountaineers
Th' inveterate prince will send to our assistance.
Dispatch; commend us to his grace, and prosper. [Exit, l.h.
Edm. Yes, credulous old man,

I will commend you to his grace,

His Grace the Duke of Cornwall :—instantly,

I'll shew him these contents in thy own character,
And seal'd with thy own signet; then forthwith
The chol'ric duke gives sentence on thy life,

And to my hand thy vast revenues fall,

To glut my pleasures that 'till now have starv'd (Retires.)

Gloster returns, l.h., followed by Cordelia and Aranthe, poorly dressed. Edmund observing at a distance.