King Lear

Crack nature’s moulds, all germens⁸ spill at once

That makes ingrateful man!

FOOL    O, nuncle, court holy-water¹⁰ in a dry house is better

than this rain-water out o’door. Good nuncle, in, ask thy

daughters’ blessing: here’s a night pities neither wise men

nor fools.

LEAR    Rumble thy bellyful! Spit fire! Spout rain!

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters.

I tax not you, you elements, with¹⁶ unkindness:

I never gave you kingdom, called you children;

You owe me no subscription¹⁸. Then let fall

Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,

A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man:

But yet I call you servile ministers²¹,

That will with two pernicious²² daughters join

Your high-engendered battles gainst a head²³

So old and white as this. O, ho, ’tis foul²⁴!

FOOL    He that has a house to put’s²⁵ head in has a good

head-piece²⁶:

Sings

    The codpiece that will house²⁷

    Before the head has any²⁸,

    The head and he shall louse²⁹,

    So beggars marry many³⁰.

    The man that makes his toe³¹

    What he his heart should make

    Shall of a corn³³ cry woe,

    And turn his sleep to wake.

For there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths³⁵

in a glass.

Enter Kent

Disguised as Caius

LEAR    No, I will be the pattern of all patience:

I will say nothing.

KENT    Who’s there?

FOOL    Marry, here’s grace and a codpiece⁴⁰: that’s a wise

man and a fool.

KENT    Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love night

Love not such nights as these: the wrathful skies

Gallow the very wanderers of the dark⁴⁴

And make them keep their caves. Since I was man,

Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,

Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never

Remember to have heard: man’s nature cannot carry

Th’affliction nor the fear.

LEAR    Let the great gods,

That keep this dreadful pudder⁵¹ o’er our heads,

Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,

That hast within thee undivulgèd crimes

Unwhipped of⁵⁴ justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand,

Thou perjured, and thou simular⁵⁵ of virtue

That art incestuous: caitiff⁵⁶, to pieces shake,

That under covert and convenient seeming⁵⁷

Has practised on⁵⁸ man’s life: close pent-up guilts,

Rive your concealing continents and cry⁵⁹

These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man

More sinned against than sinning.

KENT    Alack, bare-headed?

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel:

Some friendship will it lend you gainst the tempest.

Repose you there while I to this hard house⁶⁵ —

More harder than the stones whereof ’tis raised,

Which even but now, demanding⁶⁷ after you,

Denied me to come in — return and force

Their scanted⁶⁹ courtesy.

LEAR    My wits begin to turn.

Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? Art cold?

I am cold myself.— Where is this straw, my fellow⁷²?

The art of our necessities is strange⁷³,

And can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel.—

Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart

That’s sorry yet for thee.

Sings

FOOL    He that has and a little tiny wit⁷⁷,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

Must make content with his fortunes fit⁷⁹,

Though the rain it raineth every day.

LEAR    True, boy.— Come, bring us to this hovel.

Exeunt [Lear and Kent]

FOOL    This is a brave night to cool a courtesan⁸².

I’ll speak a prophecy ere I go:

When priests are more in word than matter⁸⁴;

When brewers mar⁸⁵ their malt with water;

When nobles are their tailors’ tutors⁸⁶;

No heretics burned, but wenches’ suitors⁸⁷;

When every case in law is right⁸⁸;

No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;

When slanders do not live in tongues;

Nor cutpurses come not to throngs⁹¹;

When usurers tell their gold i’th’field⁹²,

And bawds⁹³ and whores do churches build,

Then shall the realm of Albion⁹⁴

Come to great confusion⁹⁵:

Then comes the time, who⁹⁶ lives to see’t,

That going shall be used with feet⁹⁷.

This prophecy Merlin⁹⁸ shall make, for I live before his time.

Exit

Act 3 Scene 3

running scene 7

Carrying torches

Enter Gloucester and Edmund

GLOUCESTER    Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural

dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity² him,

they took from me the use of mine own house, charged me

on pain of perpetual displeasure neither to speak of him,

entreat for him, or any way sustain him.

EDMUND    Most savage and unnatural.

GLOUCESTER    Go to⁷; say you nothing. There is division between

the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I have received a

letter this night — ’tis dangerous to be spoken — I have

locked the letter in my closet¹⁰. These injuries the king now

bears will be revenged home; there is part of a power¹¹ already

footed. We must incline to the king: I will look¹² him and

privily relieve¹³ him. Go you and maintain talk with the duke,

that my charity be not of¹⁴ him perceived: if he ask for me, I

am ill and gone to bed: if I die for it — as no less is threatened

me — the king my old master must be relieved. There is

strange things toward¹⁷, Edmund: pray you be careful.

Exit