Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:-
All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top! Infect her beauty,
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
To fall and blast her pride!

Reg. 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 : 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.
Reg.

Good sir, to the purpose. Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks?

[Truinpets within. Corn.

What trumpet's that ? Reg. I know't, --my sister's.

Enter OSWALD. Is your lady come ?

Lear. Out, varlet, from my sight! [Trumpets.] Ah! Who comes here? O heavens, If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, Make it your cause; send down, and take my part !

Enter GONERIL, Ladies, and Attendants. Art not asham'd to look upon this beard ?— O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand ? Gon. Why not by the hand, sir ? How have I

offended ? All's not offence that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so.

Lear. [Aside.] O sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold ?-Aloud.] How came my man

i'th' stocks ?
Corn. I set him there, sir.
Lear.

You ! did you ?
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'm 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'th' air ;
To be a comrade with the wolf, and owl,—
Necessity's sharp pinch !-Return with her ?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom.
Gon.

At your choice, sir.
Lear. I prithee, 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; 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.

Not altogether so:
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome.
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 ?

Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive

attendance From those that she calls servants or from mine?

Reg. Why not, my lord ! If you will come to me,-
For now I spy 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. Those wicked creatures yet do look well

favour'd! When others are more wicked, not being the worst Stands in some rank of praise.— [TÓ GONERIL. I'll

go with thee :
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 ? Lear. O, reason not the need : our basest beggars Are, in the poorest thing, superfluous: Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man’s life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady ; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true

need, You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need 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

[Storm heard at a distance. Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or e'er I'll weep.-0, 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 curled 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