Kent. I love thee not.

Stew. Why, then I care not for thee.

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

Stew. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.
Kent. Fellow, I know thee!

Stew. What dost thou know me for?

That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following.—
A plague upon your epileptic visage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot!
Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow?
Glo. How fell you out?
Say that!

Kent. A knave; a rascal, an eater of broken meats;
abase, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hun-
dred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-
liver'd, action-taking knave; a whorson, glass-
gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-
inheriting slave; one that would'st be a bawd, in Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
way of good service, and art nothing but the com-Than I and such a knave.
position of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the
son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will
beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the
least syllable of thy addition!

Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee?

Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What's his
offence?

Kent. His countenance likes me not.
Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or hers.
Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;
I have seen better faces in my time,
That stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.
Corn. This is some fellow,

Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou kwow'st me? Is it two days ago, since I tripped up thy heels, and beat thee, before the Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect king? Draw, you rogue! for, though it be night, A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb, the moon shines; I'll make a sop o'the moonshine Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he!of you! Draw, you whorson cullionly barber-monger, An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth: draw! [Drawing his sword. An they will take it, so, if not, he's plain. Stew. Away! I have nothing to do with thee! These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Kent. Draw, you rascal! you come with letters a-Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, gainst the king; and take vanity the puppet's part, Than twenty silly ducking observants, against the royalty of her father! Draw, you rogue! That stretch their duties nicely. or I'll so carbonado your shanks :-draw, you rascal! come your ways!

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help!
Kent.Strike, you slave! stand, rogue, stand! you neat
slave, strike!
[Beating him.
Stew. Help, ho! murder! murder!
Enter EDMUND, CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and
Servants.

Edm. How now? What's the matter? Part!
Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; come,
I'll flesh you! come on, young master!

Glo. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here?
Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives!
He dies, that strikes again! What is the matter?
Reg. The messengers from our sister and the king.
Corn. What is your difference? speak!
Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord!
Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred your
lour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee!
a tailor made thee!

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,
Under the allowance of your grand aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phoebus' front,
Corn. What mean'st by this?
Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discom-
mend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: he,
that beguiled you in a plain accent, was a plain knave;
which, for my part, I will not be, though I should
win your displeasure to entreat me to it.

Corn. What was the offence you gave him?
Stew. Never any.

It pleas'd the king his master, very late,
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, conjunct, aud flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
va-That worthy'd him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here.

Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards,
But Ajax is their fool.

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho!

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow; a tailor make aman?
Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir! a stone-cutter, or a pain-
ter, could not have made him so ill, though they
had been but two hours at the trade.
Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have We'll teach you-
spar'd,

At suit of his grey beard,

Kent. Thou whorson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him.-Spare my grey beard, you wagtail! Corn. Peace, sirrah!

You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent. Yes, sir! but anger has a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry?

Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain,

Which are too intrinse t' unloose: smooth every passion,

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart,

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn;

Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king;
On whose employment I was sent to you.
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks!

As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon. Reg. Till noon! till night, my lord! and all night too!

Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so.

Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will.[Stocks brought out.
Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour
Our sister speaks of. -Come, bring away the stocks!

Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for't; your purpos'd low correction
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches,
For pilferings and most common trespasses,
Are punish'd with; the king must take it ill,
That he's so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd.

Corn. I'll answer that.

Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs.-Put in his legs!-
[Kent is put in the stocks.

Come, my good lord! away!

[Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend! 'tis the duke's pleasure,

Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
Will not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd: I'll entreat for thee.
Kent. Pray, do not, sir! I have watch'd, and travell'd
hard;

Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels:
Give you good morrow!

Glo. The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken.

[Exit.
Kent.Good king, that must approve the common saw!
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by the comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter! - Nothing almost sees miracles,
But misery; I know, 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscur'd course; and shall find time
From this enormous state,-seeking to give
Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.

Fortune, good night! smile once more! turn thy wheel!
[He sleeps.
SCENE III. A part of the heath.

Enter EDGAR.

Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd;
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,

Does not attend my taking. While I may 'scape,
I will preserve myself: and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape,
That ever penury, in contempt of man,

Brought near to beast: my face I'll prime with filth;
Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots,
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills,

Lear. No.

Kent. Yes.
Lear. No, I say!
Kent. I say, yea!

Lear. No, no! they would not.
Kent. Yes, they have!
Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no!
Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay!
Lear. They durst not do't;

They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than
murder,

To do upon respect such violent outrage:
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Coming from us.

I

Kent. My lord, when at their home
did commend your highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress, salutations;
Deliver❜d letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse:
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine,
(Being the very fellow that of late

Display'd so saucily against your highness,)
Having more man, than wit about me, drew;
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries:
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth

The shame which here it suffers.

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly

that way.

Fathers, that wear rags,

Do make their children blind;
But fathers, that bear bags,
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,

many

Ne'er turns the key to the poor. dolours for But for all this, thou shalt have as: thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year. Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! Hysterica passio! down, thou climbing sorrow, Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, Thy element's below! Where is this daughter?

Enforce their charity.-Poor Turly good! poor Tom!
That's something yet; -Edgar I nothing am. [Exit.

SCENE IV. Before GLOSTER's castle.
Enter LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman.

Lear. 'Tis strange, that they should so depart from
home,

And not send back my messenger.

Gent. As I learn'd,

The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.

Kent. With the earl, sir, here within.
Lear. Follow me not!
Stay here!

[Erit

Gent. Made you no more offence, than what you speak of?

Kent. None.

How chance the king comes with so small a traie!
Fool. An thou hadst been set i'the stocks for that

question, thou hadst well deserved it.

Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach

thee there's no labouring in the winter. All, that I have to think so: if thou should'st not be glad, follow their noses, are led by their eyes, but blind I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, men; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can Sepúlch'ring an adultress. smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.

Reg. I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here. Is your lady come?
Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows:
Out, varlet, from my sight!
Corn. What means your grace?
Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have
good hope

Thou didst not know of't.

Who comes here? O

Lear. I gave you all

heavens !

Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so!
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me;

I am now from home, and out of that provision,
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
Lear. Return to her and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage against the enmity o'the air;
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,-
Necessity's sharp pinch!-Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg
To keep base life a-foot:-return with her?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested 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 see one another;
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter!
Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil,
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
Mend, when thou canst; be better, at thy leisure;
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I, and my hundred knights.

Reg. Not altogether so, sir!

sister!

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But she knows what she does.

Lear. Is this well spoken now?

Reg. I dare avouch it, sir! What, fifty followers?
Is it not well? what should you need of more?
Yea, or so many? sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one
house,

Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity? 'tis hard; almost impossible.
Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attend-

Reg. And in good time you gave it.
Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be follow'd
With such a number. What, must I come to you
With five-and-twenty, Regan? said you so?
Reg. And speak it again, my lord! no more with
me!

Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-
favour'd,

When others are more wicked; not being the worst,
Stands in some rank of praise :-) -I'll go with thee!
[To Goneril
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 house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?

Reg. What need one?

You see me here, you 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 cheeks! 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! 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,
Or ere I'll weep! O, fool, I shall go mad!
[Exeunt Lear, Gloster, Kent, and Fool
Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm.
[Storm heard at a distance,

Reg. This honse
Is little; the old man and his people cannot
Be well bestow'd.

Gon. 'Tis his own blame; he hath put
Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.
Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,

But not one follower.

Gon. So am I purpos'd.
Where is my lord of Gloster?

Re-enter GLOSTER.

Corn. Follow'd the old man forth:-he is return'd.
Glo. The king is in high rage.
Corn. Whither is he going?

Glo. He call to horse; but will I know not whither.
Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads him-

self.

Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
and the bleak
Glo. Alack, the night comes on,
winds

Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about

There's scarce a bush.

Reg. O, sir, to wilful men,
The injuries, that they themselves procure,
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors!
He is attended with a desperate train!

M

S

Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout

SCENE I. — A heath. A storm is heard, with thun-Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the

der and lightning.

Enter KENT, and a Gentleman, meeting. Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather, most quietly.

Kent. I know you; where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful element; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curved waters 'bove the main,

cocks!

You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
un-Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o'the world!

That things might change, or cease; tears his white
hair;

Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of:
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain.

Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!

Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better, than this rain-water out o'door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughter's blessing; here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools.

Lear. Rumble thy belly-full! Spit, fire! spout, 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,

This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would You owe me no subscription; why then let fall

couch,

The lion and the belly-pinched wolf

Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,

And bids what will take all.

Kent. But who is with him?

Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man!
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head

Gent. None but the fool; who labours to outjest So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!

His heart-struck injuries.

Kent. Sir, I do know you;

And dare, upon the warrant of my art,

Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,
Although as yet the face of it be cover'd

With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
Who have (as who have not, that their great stars
Thron'd and set high?) servants who seem no less;
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes;

Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings;-
But, true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open banner. Now to you!
If on my credit you dare build so far

To make your speed to Dover, you shall find'
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The king hath cause to plain.

I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer
This office to you.

Gent. I will talk farther with you.
Kent. No, do not!

For confirmation that I am much more,
Than my out wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,
(As fear not but you shall,) show her this ring;
And she will tell you who your fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fye on this storm!
I will go seek the king.

Gent. Give me your hand! Have you no more to
say?

Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet; That when we have found the king, (in which your pain

Fool. He, that has a house to put his head in, has
a good head-piece.

The cod-piece that will house,
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse;·

So beggars marry many.

The man that makes his toe

What he his heart should make,

Shall of a corn cry woe,

And turn his sleep to wake.

- 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
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,

And make them keep their caves. Since 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: man's nature cannot carry
The affliction, nor the fear.

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 undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice! hide thee, thou bloody hand!
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue,
That art incestuous! Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practis'd on man's life!- Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
Kent. Alack, bare-headed!

-