You will return, and sojourn with our sister, Lear. Now, I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad! I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell; Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Heaven. I, and my hundred knights. Reg. Your pardon, sir; I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided fit welcome. For r your Lear. Is this well spoken, now? Reg. My sister treats you fair. What! fifty fol- Is it not well? What should you need of more? ance From those whom she calls servants, or from mine? Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chance to slack you, We could control them.-If you come to me, For now I see the danger, I entreat you To bring but five-and-twenty; to no more Will I give place. Lear. I gave you all! Reg. And in good time you gave it. Lear. Hold, now, my temper! stand this bolt un mov'd, And I am thunder-proof. Gon. Hear me, my lord. [It begins to rain. What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, Reg. What need one? [Distant thunder. Lear. Heav'ns drop your patience down! That all the world shall-I will do such things,— No, I'll not weep: weep; I have full cause of weeping; but this heart [Exeunt KING LEAR, KENT, and the KNIGHTS ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. A desert Heath.-Rain-Thunder-Lightning. Enter KING LEAR and KENT. Lear. Blow, winds, and burst your cheeks! rage louder yet! Fantastic lightning, singe, singe my white head ! Till you have drown'd the towns and palaces Kent. Not all my best entreaties can persuade him Into some needful shelter, or to 'bide This poor slight cov'ring on his aged head, Exposed to this wild war of earth and heav'n. [Thunder. Lear. Rumble thy bellyfull! spit fire! spout rain ! Not fire, wind, rain, or thunder, are my daughters: I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness: I never gave you kingdoms, call'd you children; You owe me no obedience.-Then let fall Your horrible pleasure!-Here I stand your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man. [Rain-Thunder-Lightning Yet I will call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Kent. Hard by, sir, is a hovel, that will lend Some shelter from this tempest. Lear. I will forget my nature. father! Ay, there's the point. What! so kind a [Rain-Thunder-Lightning. Kent. Consider, good my liege, things, that love night, Love not such nights as this; these wrathful skies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark, And make them keep their caves: such drenching rain, Such sheets of fire, such claps of horrid thunder, Such groans of roaring winds, have ne'er been known. [Thunder Lear. Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Hide, hide, thou murd'rer, hide thy bloody hand!— That drink'st the widow's tears, sigh now, and ask Kent. Good sir, to th' hovel. Come on, my boy; how dost, my boy? art cold? And can make vile things precious.-My poor knave, [Rain-Thunder-Lightning-Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in GLOSTER'S Castle. Enter EDMUND. Edm. The storm is in our louder rev'lings drown'd. Thus would I reign, could I but mount a throne. The riots of these proud imperial sisters Already have impos'd the galling yoke Of taxes, and hard impositions, on The drudging peasant's neck, who bellows out Two PAGES, from several Entrances, deliver him each a Letter, and exeunt. [Reads.] Where merit is so conspicuous, not to behold it were blindness; and not to reward it, ingratitude. Enough! blind and ungrateful should I be, GONERIL. [Reads.] If modesty be not your enemy, doubt not to find me your friend. D REGAN. |