I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall-I will do such thingsWhat 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 [Storm heard at a distance. Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or e'er I'll weep.-O, fool, I shall go mad! [Exit. ACT III. SCENE 1.-A Heath. A storm, with thunder and lightning. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting. Kent. HO'S there, besides foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather most unquietly. Kent. I know you. Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curlèd waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease. Kent. But who is with him? Gent. None but the fool; who labours to out-jest His heart-struck injuries. Kent. Sir, I do know you; And dare commend a dear thing to you. There's Division 'twixt Albany and Cornwall; And, true it is, from France there comes a power Into this scatter'd kingdom; and are at point To make your speed to Dover, you shall find That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm! Gent. Have you no more to say? Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet, That, when we've found the king,-he that first lights on him Holloa the other. [Exeunt severally. SCENE 2.-Another part of the Heath, with a Hovel. Lear. [Storm continues. LOW, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germents spill at once, Enter Fool. Fool. O nuncle, in and ask thy daughters' blessing: here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools. Lear. Rumble thy bellyfull! Spit, fire! spout rain! That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Fool. He that has a house to put's head in has a good head-piece. Kent. [within.] Who's there? Fool. Marry, a wise man and a fool. Enter KENT. Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? Alack, bare-headed! Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest; Repose you there. Lear. My wits begin to turn.- Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold? I'm cold myself.-Where is the straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. Poor fool and knave, I've one part in my heart Fool. [Singing.] He that has and a little tiny wit, Must make content with his fortunes fit, Though the rain it raineth every day. Lear. True, my good boy. Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, Kent. I had rather break mine own. 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. The tempest in my mind Kent. Good my lord, enter here. Lear. Prithee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease: This tempest will not give me leave to ponder On things would hurt me more.-But I'll go in[To the Fool.] In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty, Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.— [Fool goes in. Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, |