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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    Not Peer Reviewed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. Alasse sir, sit you heere?
    Things that loue night, loue not such nights as these;
    1695The wrathfull Skies gallow the very wanderer of the
    Darke, and makes them keepe their caues,
    Since I was man, such sheetes of fire,
    Such bursts of horrid thunder, such grones of
    Roring winde and raine, I nere remember
    1700To 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 hast within thee
    1705Vndivulged crimes, vnwhipt of Iustice,
    Hide thee thou bloudy hand, thou periur'd, and
    Thou simular man of vertue that art incestious,
    Caytiffe in peeces shake, that vnder couert
    And conuenient seeming, hast practised on mans life,
    1710Close pent vp guilts, riue your concealed centers,
    And cry these dreadfull summoners grace,
    I am a man more sind against their sinning.
    Kent. Alacke bare headed, gracious my Lord, hard by here is
    1715a houell, some friendship will it lend gainst the tempest, re-
    pose you there, whilst 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 dost my boy, art cold?
    I am cold my selfe, where is this straw my fellow,
    1725The art of our necessities 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
    1730the raine, must make content with his fortunes fit, for the raine,
    F2v it