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 G.o.ddes 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 n.o.bles 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 wh.o.r.es, 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
Bast. Most sauage and vnnaturall
Glo. Go too; say you nothing. There is diuision betweene the Dukes, and a worsse matter then that: I haue receiued a Letter this night, "tis dangerous to be spoken, I haue lock"d the Letter in my Closset, these iniuries the King now beares, will be reuenged home; ther is part of a Power already footed, we must incline to the King, I will looke him, and priuily relieue him; goe you and maintaine talke with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceiued; If he aske for me, I am ill, and gone to bed, if I die for it, (as no lesse is threatned me) the King my old Master must be relieued. There is strange things toward Edmund, pray you be carefull.
Enter.
Bast. This Curtesie forbid thee, shall the Duke Instantly know, and of that Letter too; This seemes a faire deseruing, and must draw me That which my Father looses: no lesse then all, The yonger rises, when the old doth fall.
Enter.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.
Kent. Here is the place my Lord, good my Lord enter, The tirrany of the open night"s too rough For Nature to endure.
Storme still
Lear. Let me alone
Kent. Good my Lord enter heere
Lear. Wilt breake my heart?
Kent. I had rather breake mine owne, Good my Lord enter
Lear. Thou think"st "tis much that this contentious storme Inuades vs to the skin so: "tis to thee, But where the greater malady is fixt, The lesser is scarce felt. Thou"dst shun a Beare, But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea, Thou"dst meete the Beare i"th" mouth, when the mind"s free, The bodies delicate: the tempest in my mind, Doth from my sences take all feeling else, Saue what beates there, Filliall ingrat.i.tude, Is it not as this mouth should teare this hand For lifting food too"t? But I will punish home; No, I will weepe no more; in such a night, To shut me out? Poure on, I will endure: In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill, Your old kind Father, whose franke heart gaue all, O that way madnesse lies, let me shun that: No more of that
Kent. Good my Lord enter here
Lear. Prythee go in thy selfe, seeke thine owne ease, This tempest will not giue me leaue to ponder On things would hurt me more, but Ile goe in, In Boy, go first. You houselesse pouertie, Enter.
Nay get thee in; Ile pray, and then Ile sleepe.
Poore naked wretches, where so ere you are That bide the pelting of this pittilesse storme, How shall your House-lesse heads, and vnfed sides, Your lop"d, and window"d raggednesse defend you From seasons such as these? O I haue tane Too little care of this: Take Physicke, Pompe, Expose thy selfe to feele what wretches feele, That thou maist shake the superflux to them, And shew the Heauens more iust.
Enter Edgar, and Foole.
Edg. Fathom, and halfe, Fathom and halfe; poore Tom
Foole. Come not in heere Nuncle, here"s a spirit, helpe me, helpe me
Kent. Giue my thy hand, who"s there?
Foole. A spirite, a spirite, he sayes his name"s poore Tom
Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i"th"
straw? Come forth
Edg. Away, the foule Fiend followes me, through the sharpe Hauthorne blow the windes. Humh, goe to thy bed and warme thee
Lear. Did"st thou giue all to thy Daughters? And art thou come to this?
Edgar. Who giues any thing to poore Tom? Whom the foule fiend hath led through Fire, and through Flame, through Sword, and Whirle-Poole, o"re Bog, and Quagmire, that hath laid Kniues vnder his Pillow, and Halters in his Pue, set Rats-bane by his Porredge, made him Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, ouer foure incht Bridges, to course his owne shadow for a Traitor.
Blisse thy fiue Wits, Toms a cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de, blisse thee from Whirle-Windes, Starre-blasting, and taking, do poore Tom some charitie, whom the foule Fiend vexes. There could I haue him now, and there, and there againe, and there.
Storme still.
Lear. Ha"s his Daughters brought him to this pa.s.se?
Could"st thou saue nothing? Would"st thou giue "em all?
Foole. Nay, he reseru"d a Blanket, else we had bin all sham"d
Lea. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre Hang fated o"re mens faults, light on thy Daughters
Kent. He hath no Daughters Sir
Lear. Death Traitor, nothing could haue subdu"d Nature To such a lownesse, but his vnkind Daughters.
Is it the fashion, that discarded Fathers, Should haue thus little mercy on their flesh: Iudicious punishment, "twas this flesh begot Those Pelicane Daughters
Edg. Pillic.o.c.k sat on Pillic.o.c.k hill, alow: alow, loo, loo
Foole. This cold night will turne vs all to Fooles, and Madmen
Edgar. Take heed o"th" foule Fiend, obey thy Parents, keepe thy words Iustice, sweare not, commit not, with mans sworne Spouse: set not thy Sweet-heart on proud array. Tom"s a cold