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  • Title: King Lear (Quarto 2, 1619)
  • Editor: Pervez Rizvi
  • Coordinating editor: Michael Best
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-463-9

    Copyright Michael Best. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Pervez Rizvi
    Not Peer Reviewed

    King Lear (Quarto 2, 1619)

    The History of King Lear.
    Foole. Marry heere's grace and a codpis, that's a wiseman and
    a foole.
    Kent. Ala s s e sir, sit you heere?
    Things that loue night, loue not such nights as these;
    1695 The wrathfull Skies gallow the very wanderer of the
    Darke, and makes them keepe their caues,
    Since I was man, such sheetes of fire,
    Such bur sts of horrid thunder, such grones of
    Roring winde and raine, I nere remember
    1700 To haue heard, mans nature cannot carry
    The affliction, nor the force.
    Lear. Let the great Gods that keepe this dreadfull
    Thundring ore our heads, finde out their enemies now,
    Tremble thou wretch that ha st within thee
    1705 Vndivulged crimes, vnwhipt of Iu stice,
    Hide thee thou bloudy hand, thou periur'd, and
    Thou simular man of vertue that art ince stious,
    Caytiffe in peeces shake, that vnder couert
    And conuenient seeming, ha st practised on mans life,
    1710 Close pent vp guilts, riue your concealed centers,
    And cry these dreadfull summoners grace,
    I am a man more sind again st their sinning.
    Kent. Alacke bare headed, gracious my Lord, hard by here is
    1715 a houell, some friend ship will it lend gain st the tempe st, re-
    pose you there, whil st I to this hard house, more hard then is the
    stone whereof tis rais'd, which euen but now demanding after
    me, denide me to come in, returne and force their scanted curte-
    Lear. My wit begins to turne,
    Come on my boy, how do st my boy, art cold?
    I am cold my selfe, where is this straw my fellow,
    1725 The art of our nece s sities is strange, that can
    Make vilde things precious, come you houell poore,
    Foole and knaue, I haue one part of my heart
    That sorrowes yet for thee.
    Foole. He that has a little tine wit, with hey ho the winde and
    1730 the raine, mu st make content with his fortunes fit, for the raine,