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Must be their school-masters : shut up your doors ;
He is attended with a desp’rate train ;
And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear.

Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord, 'tis a wild night. My Regan counsels well : come out o'th' storm.


А ст III.
S CE N E, a Heath.


Aftorm is heard, with thunder and lightning. Enter
Kent, and a Gentleman, severally.

HO's there, besides foul weather ?
Gent. One minded like the weather, most

Kent. I know you ; where's the King ?
Gent. Contending with the fretful elements ;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea ;
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change, or cease: tears his white hair;
(Which the impetuous blasts with eyeless rage
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of.)
Strives in his little World of Man t'outscorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting Wind and Rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their furr dry; unbonnetted he runs,
And bids what will, take all.

Kent. But who is with him ?

Gent. None but the Fool, who labours to out-jest
His heart-struck injuries.

Kent, Sir, I do know you,
And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
Commend a dear thing to you. There's division

Now to you,

( Although as yet the face of it is cover'd
With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall:
Who have (as who have not, whom their great stars (13)
Throne and set high?) servants, who seem no less ;
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state. What hath been seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the Dukes ;
Or the hard rein, which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
(Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings - )
But true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scatter'd kingdom ; who already,
Wise in our negligence, have secret fea
In some of our best ports, and are at point
To show their open

If on my credit you dare build so far
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making juit report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The King hath caufe to plain.
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from some knowledge and assurance of you,
Offer this office.

Gent. I'll talk further with you.

Kent. No, do not:
For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out-wall, open this purse and take
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,
(As, fear not, but you shall) fhew her that Ring,
And she will tell you who this fellow is,
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the King.

(13) Who have, as who have net, - | The eight subsequem Verres were degraded by Mr. Pope, as unintelligible, and to no purpose. For my part, I see nothing in them but what is very easie to be understood; and the Lines soem absolutely necessary to clear up the Motives, upon which France prepar'd his lovasion : gor without them is the sense of the Context compleat,


C 3

Gent. Give me your hand, have you no more to say?

Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet ; That, when we have found the King, (in which you take That way, I this :) he that firft lights on him, Halloo the other.

[Exeunt severally. Storm fill. Enter Lear and Fool. Lear. Blow winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout 'Till you have drenchtour steeples, drown'd the cocks ! You fulph'rous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, Singe my white head. And thou all-shaking thunder, Strike fat the thick rotundity o'th'world ; Crack nature's mould, all germins spill at once (14) That make ingrateful man.

Fool. O nuncle, court-holy-water in a dry house is better than the rain-waters out o' door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters blessing : here's a night, thas pities neither wise men nor fools.

Lear. Rumble thy belly full, spit fire, fpout rain; Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters ; I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness ; I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children ; You owe me no subscription. Then let fall

(14). Crack Natures Mould, all Germains spill at once.) Thys all the Editions have given us this Passage, and Mr. Pope has explain'd Germains, to mean relations, or kindred Elements. Then it must have been germanes (from the Latin Adjeđive, germanus ;) a Word more than once used by our Author, tho always false fpelt by his Editors. But the Poer means here, “ Crack Nature's Mould, and spill all the Seeds of Matter, that e are hoarded within it." To retrieve which Sense, we must write Germ ins ; (a Substantive deriv'd from Germen, omeg: as the old Gloffaries expound it ;) And to put this Emendation beyond all Doubt, l'll produce one Passage, where our Author not only ufes the fame Thought again, but che Word that af, certains my Explication. In Winter's Tale;

Let Nature crujh the sides o'rb' Earth together,
And marr the Seeds within,


Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand, your slave ;
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man!
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. Oh ! oh! 'tis foul.

Fool. He that has a house to put's head in, has a
good head-piece :
The codpiece that will house, before the head has any,
The head and he shall lowse ; fo beggars marry many,
That man that makes his toe, what he his heart should

make, Shall of a corn cry woe, and turn his sleep to wake. For there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths in a glass.

To them, Enter Kent.
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 cod-piece, 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 wand'rers of the dark, 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 force.

Lear. Let the great Gods, That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That haft within thee undivalged crimes, Unwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand, Thou Perjure, and thou Simular of virtue, That art incestuous : caitiff, shake to pieces, That under coveșt and convenient seeming, Haft practis'd on man's life! -- Close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents, and ask



These dreadful summoners grace.

I am a man, More finn'd against, than finning.

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 house
(More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) return, and force
Their scanted courtesie.

Lear. My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy. How doft, my boy? art cold ?
I'm cold


self. Where is the straw, my fellow ?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel;
Poor fool and knave, I've one part in my heart,
That's sorry yet for thee.
Fool. He that has an a little tynie wit,

With heigh ho, the wind and the rain ;
Must make content with his fortúnes fit,

Though the rain it raineth every day. Lear. True, my good boy: come, bring us to this hovel.

Fool. 'Tis a brave night to cool a curtezan.
I'll speak a prophecy, or ere I go;
When priests are more in words than matter,
When brewers marr their malt with water ;
When nobles are their tailors tutors;
No hereticks burn'd, but wenches' suitors ;

case in law is right,
No 'Squire in debt, nor no poor Knight ;
When fanders do not live in tongues,
And cut-purses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i' th’ field,
And bawds and whores do churches build:
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion :
Then comes the time, who lives to feet,
- That Going shall be us’d with feet.

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