Lear. No.

Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.

Lear. Why?

Fool. Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case.-Sc. 5.

Lear. O! let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!-Id. Cornwall. 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
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.-Act 2, Sc. 2..
Kent (in the stocks). My lord, when at their home

I 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

Lear. Deny to speak with me? they are sick? they are weary ?

They have travell'd hard to night? Mere fetches;

The images of revolt and flying off!

Fetch me a better answer.

You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremovable and fixed he is

In his own course.

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!—
Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.

Gloster. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.
Lear. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man?
Gloster, Ay, my good lord.

Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service:

Are they inform'd of this ?-My breath and blood!—

Fiery? the fiery duke ?-tell the hot duke, that—
No, but not yet:-may be, he is not well:

Infirmity doth still neglect all office,

Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,

When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;

And am fallen out with my more headier will,

To take the indispos'd and sickly fit

For the sound man.

Death on my state! wherefore

Should he sit here? This act persuades me, (looking on

KENT)

That this remotion of the duke and her

Is practice only. Give me my servant forth :

Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,

Till it cry-Sleep to death!

Gloster. I'd have all well betwixt you.

(Exit.)

Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart!-but, down; down, thou climbing sorrow,

Thy element's below!

GLOSTER, and Servants.)

Good morrow to you both.

(Enter CORNWALL, REGAN,

Cornwall. Hail to your grace! (KENT is set at liberty.) Regan. I am glad to see your highness.

Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what reason

I have to think so: if thou should'st not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adultress.-O! are you free?
Some other time for that.-Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught: O! Regan, she hath tied

(TO KENT).

Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here, (Points to his

heart.)

I can scarce speak to thee; thou❜lt not believe,

Of how deprav'd a quality-O! Regan.

Regan. I pray you, sir, take patience; I have hope, You less know how to value her desert,

Than she to scant her duty.

Lear.

Say, how is that?

Regan. I cannot think, my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation: If, sir, perchance
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My curses on her!
Regan.
O! sir, you are old;
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be rul'd, and led

By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;

Say, you have wrong'd her, sir.

Lear.

Ask her forgiveness?

Do you but mark how this becomes the house?
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;

Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg

That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.

(Kneeling)

Regan. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks; Return you to my sister.

Lear.

Never, Regan:

She hath abated me of half my train;

Look'd black upon me: struck me with her tongue,
Most serpentlike, upon the very heart:-

All the stor❜d vengeance of heaven fall

On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!

Cornwall.

Fye! fye! fye!

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames.
Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,

You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
To fall and blast her pride!

Regan.

O the blest gods!
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.
Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse;
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give

Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort and not burn: 'Tis not in thee

To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in: thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.

Regan.

Good, sir, to the purpose. (Trumpets within.)

Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks?
Cornwall. What trumpet's that?

(Enter Steward.)

Regan. 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!

Cornwall.

What means your grace?

Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope Thou did'st not know of't.-Who comes here? O heavens! (Enter GONERIL.)

If

you do love old men, if your sweet way

Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,

Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!

Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?

O! Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

(To GONERIL.)

Goneril. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? All's not offence, that indiscretion finds,

And dotage terms so.

Lear.

O! sides, you are too tough;

Will you yet hold ?-How came my man is the stocks?
Cornwall. I set him there, sir; but his own disorders
Deserv'd much less advancement.

Regan. 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 dismissed?
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 afoot:-Return with her?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom.

(Looking on the Steward.) At your choice, sir.

Goneril.
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.-Sc. 4.

(Another part of the heath. Storm continues. Enter LEAR and FOOL.)

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

Till you have drenched our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
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,
That make ingrateful man!

Let the great gods,

That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
Thou hast within thee undivulged crimes,

Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjur'd

Caitiff, to pieces shake,

That under covert and convenient seeming,

Hast practised 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.-Act. 3, Sc. 2.

(A part of the heath with a hovel. Enter LEAR, KENT, and

FOOL.)

Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: The tyranny of the open night's too rough

For nature to endure.

Lear.

(Storm still.)

Kent. Good my lord, enter here.

Lear.

Kent. I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord, enter.
Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm

Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;

But where the greater malady is fix'd,

The lesser is scarce felt. Thoud'st shun a bear;

But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,

Thoud'st meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind's free