King Lear (Folio 1, 1623)
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296
The Tragedie of King Lear
¶Kent. I know you: Where's the King?
¶Gent. Contending with the fretfull Elements;
1620Bids the winde blow the Earth into the Sea,
¶Or swell the curled Waters 'boue the Maine,
¶That things might change, or cease.
¶Kent. But who is with him?
1625His heart-strooke iniuries.
¶Kent. Sir, I do know you,
¶And dare vpon the warrant of my note
¶Commend a deere thing to you. There is diuision
¶(Although as yet the face of it is couer'd
1630With mutuall cunning) 'twixt Albany, and Cornwall:
¶Who haue, as who haue not, that their great Starres
¶Which are to France the Spies and Speculations
¶Intelligent of our State. What hath bin seene,
1635Either in snuffes, and packings of the Dukes,
¶Or the hard Reine which both of them hath borne
¶Gent. I will talke further with you.
1640Kent. No, do not:
¶For confirmation that I am much more
¶Then my out-wall; open this Purse, and take
1645And she will tell you who that Fellow is
¶That yet you do not know. Fye on this Storme,
¶I will go seeke the King.
¶Gent. Giue me your hand,
¶Haue you no more to say?
1650Kent. Few words, but to effect more then all yet;
¶That when we haue found the King, in which your pain
¶That way, Ile this: He that first lights on him,
¶Holla the other.
Exeunt.
¶
Scena Secunda.
1655
Storme still. _ Enter Lear, and Foole.
¶Lear. Blow windes, & crack your cheeks; Rage, blow
¶You Cataracts, and Hyrricano's spout,
¶Till you haue drench'd our Steeples, drown the Cockes.
¶You Sulph'rous and Thought-executing Fires,
1660Vaunt-curriors of Oake-cleauing Thunder-bolts,
¶Sindge my white head. And thou all-shaking Thunder,
¶Strike flat the thicke Rotundity o'th'world,
¶Cracke Natures moulds, all germaines spill at once
¶That makes ingratefull Man.
¶better then this Rain-water out o' doore. Good Nunkle,
¶neither Wisemen, nor Fooles.
1670Nor Raine, Winde, Thunder, Fire are my Daughters;
¶I neuer gaue you Kingdome, call'd you Children;
1675A poore, infirme, weake, and dispis'd old man:
¶But yet I call you Seruile Ministers,
¶That will with two pernicious Daughters ioyne
¶Your high-engender'd Battailes, 'gainst a head
¶So old, and white as this. O, ho! 'tis foule.
¶Head-peece:
¶The Codpiece that will house, before the head has any;
¶The man yt makes his Toe, what he his Hart shold make,
1685Shall of a Corne cry woe, and turne his sleepe to wake.
¶For there was neuer yet faire woman, but shee made
¶
Enter Kent.
¶Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience,
1690I will say nothing.
¶Kent. Who's there?
¶Foole. Marry here's Grace, and a Codpiece, that's a
¶Wiseman, and a Foole.
¶Kent. Alas Sir are you here? Things that loue night,
¶Gallow the very wanderers of the darke
¶And make them keepe their Caues: Since I was man,
¶Such groanes of roaring Winde, and Raine, I neuer
1700Remember to haue heard. Mans Nature cannot carry
¶th'affliction, nor the feare.
¶Lear. Let the great Goddes
¶That keepe this dreadfull pudder o're our heads,
¶Finde out their enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch,
1705That hast within thee vndivulged Crimes
¶Vnwhipt of Iustice. Hide thee, thou Bloudy hand;
¶Thou Periur'd, and thou Simular of Vertue
¶That vnder couert, and conuenient seeming
1710Ha's practis'd on mans life. Close pent-vp guilts,
¶Riue your concealing Continents, and cry
¶These dreadfull Summoners grace. I am a man,
¶Kent. Alacke, bare-headed?
1715Gracious my Lord, hard by heere is a Houell,
¶(More harder then the stones whereof 'tis rais'd,
¶Which euen but now, demanding after you,
1720Deny'd me to come in) returne, and force
¶Lear. My wits begin to turne.
¶Come on my boy. How dost my boy? Art cold?
¶And can make vilde things precious. Come, your Houel;
¶Poore Foole, and Knaue, I haue one part in my heart
¶That's sorry yet for thee.
1730With heigh-ho, the Winde and the Raine,
¶Foole. This is a braue night to coole a Curtizan:
¶When Priests are more in word, then matter;
¶When Brewers marre their Malt with water;
¶When Nobles are their Taylors Tutors,
¶No Heretiques burn'd, but wenches Sutors;
1740When euery Case in Law, is right;
¶No Squire in debt, nor no poore Knight;
¶When Slanders do not liue in Tongues;
¶Nor Cut-purses come not to throngs;
¶When Vsurers tell their Gold i'th'Field,
And
