Reg. Good Sir, to th' purpose. [Trumpet within. Lear. Who put my man i' th' stocks?

Enter Steward.

Corn. What trumpet's that?

Reg. I know't, my fifter's. This approves her letter,

That he would foon be here. Is your Lady come?
Lear. This is a flave, whole cafy-borrowed pride.
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows,
Out, varlet, from my fight.

Corn. What means your Grace?!

Lear. Who ftock'd my fervant, Regan; I've good hope

Thou didst not know on't.-Who comes here?

O Heav'ns,

SCEN E X.

Euter Gonerill.

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience, if yourfelves are old,

Make it your caufe; fend down, and take my part.
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard? [To Gon.
O Regan, will you take her by the hand?

Gon. Why not by th' hand, Sir? How have I offended?

All's not offence that indifcretion finds,

And dotage terms io.

Lear. O fides, you are too tough!

Will you yet hold?How came my man ' th' ftocks?

Corn. I let him there, Sir; but his own diforders Delerv'd much less advancement.

Lear. You? did you?

Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, feem fo. If, 'till the expiration of your month, You will return and fojourn with my fifter, Difmifling half your train, come then to me. I'm now from home, and out of that provifion Which fhall be needful for your entertainment. Lear. Return to her, and fifty men difmifs'd? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chufe

To wage against the enmity o' th' air,
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl;
Neceflity's fharp pinch-Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dow'rless took:
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and 'fquire-like penfion beg,
To keep base life a foot.—Return with her?
Perfuade me rather to be flave and fumpter
To this detefted groom. [Looking on the Steward.
Gon. At your choice, Sir.

Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad; I will not trouble thee. My child, farewell; We'll no more meet, no more fee one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter, Or rather a disease that's in my fleth,

Which I must needs call mine; thou art a bile,
A plague-fore, or inboffed carbuncle

In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee.
Let fhame come when it will, I do not call it ;
I do not bid the thunder-bearer fhoot,

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. Mend when thou canft; be better at thy leisure. 1 can be patient, I can ftay with Regan ; 1, and my hundred Knights,

Reg. Not altogether fo;.

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome; give ear to my fifter:
For thofe that mingle reafon with your paffion,
Must be content to think you old, and fo-
But he knows what fhe does.

Lear. Is this well spoken?

Reg. I dare avouch it, Sir. What, fifty followers? Is it not well? What fhould you need of more? Yea, or fo many, fince both charge and danger Speak 'gainft to great a number? How in one house Should many people under two commands Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impoflible.

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

From those that fhe calls fervants, or from mine? Reg. Why not, my Lord? if then they chanc'd to flack ye,

We could controul them.

If you'll come to me,

For now I fpy a danger, I entreat you

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

Lear. I gave you all

Reg. And in good time you gave it.

Lear. Made you my guardians, my depofitaries; But kept a refervation to be follow'd

With fuch a number: muft I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, faid you fo?

Reg. And fpeak 't again, any Lord; no more with

me.

Lear. Thofe wicked creatures yet do look well.

favour'd,

When others are more wicked. Not being worst, Stands in fome rank of praife. I'll go with thee;

[To Gonerill.

Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty;
And thou art twice her love.

Gon. Hear me, my Lord;

What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a houfe, where twice fo many
Have a command to tend you?

Reg. What needs one ?

Lear. O, reafon not the need; our bafeft beggars Are in the poorest things fuperfluous.

Allow not nature more than nature needs,

Man's life is cheap as beafts'. Thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which fcarcely keeps thee warm. But for true need!
You Heav'ns, give me that patience which I need!
You fee me here, you Gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both :
If it be you that flir thefe daughters' hearts.
Against their father, fool me not fo much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger;
O let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks. No, you unnat'ral hags, -
I will have tuch'revenges on vou both,

That all the world fhall-I will do fuch things,
What they are, yet I know not; but they fhall be e

The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep. I have full caufe of weeping.
This heart fhall break into a thousand flaws
Or ere I weep. O fool, I fhall go mad *.

[Exeunt Lear, Glo'fter, Kent, and Fool.

SCENE XI.

Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm.

[Storm and tempeft. Reg. This houfe is little; the old man and his Cannot be well beftow'd.

[people

Gon. 'Tis his own blame hath put himself from And muft needs tafte his folv.

[reft, Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly; But not one follower.

Gon. So am I purpos'd.

Where is my Lord of Glo'fter?

Enter Glo'fter.

Corn. Follow'd the old man forth. He is return'd.
Glou. The King is in high rage, and will I know

not whither.

Corn. 'Tis best to give him way, he leads himfelfa
Gon. My Lord, intreat him by no means to ftay.
Glou. Alack, the night comes on, and the high
winds

Do forely ruffle; for many miles about
There's fcarce a bush.

Reg. O Sir, to wilful men,

The injuries that they themselves procure

Muft be their school-mafters. Shut up your doors:
He is attended with a defp'rate train;

And what they may incenfe him to, being apt
To have his ear abus'd, wifdom bids fear.

Corn. Shut up your doors, my Lord, 'tis a wild night.

My Regan counfels well. Come out o' th' ftorm. [Exeunt.

This is an artful anticipation, that judiciously prepares us for the dreadful event that is to follow in the fucceeding acts. Warton.

A C T III.

SCENE I

A Heath.

A ftorm is heard," with thunder, and lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, feverally.

W

Keut.

HO's there, befides foul weather?

Gent. One minded like the weather, moft unquietly.

Kent. I know you. Where's the King? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the fea, Or fwell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease; tears his white

hair,

Which the impetuous blafts with eveless rage.
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
Strives in his little world of man t' out corn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would
couch,

The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf

Keep their furr dry, unbonetted he runs,

And bids what will take all.

Kent. But who is with him?

Gen. None but the fool, who labours to out-jest

His heart-ftruck injuries.

Kent. Sir, I do know you;

And dare, upon the warrant of my note,

Com end a dear thing to you.

There's divifion,

Although as yet the face of it is cover'd

With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall,
Who have, (as who have not, whom their great stars
Throne and fet high!) fervants who feem no less;
Which are to France the fpies and fpeculations
Intelligent of our state. What hath been feen,
Either in fruffs and packings of the Dukes,
Or the hard rein, which both of them have borne