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.GONERILSo am I purposed.Where is my lord of Gloucester?CORNWALLFollow'd the old man forth: he is return'd.[Re-enter GLOUCESTER]GLOUCESTERThe king is in high rage.CORNWALLWhither is he going?GLOUCESTERHe calls to horse; but will I know not whither.CORNWALL'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.GONERILMy lord, entreat him by no means to stay.GLOUCESTERAlack, the night comes on, and the bleak windsDo sorely ruffle; for many miles aboutThere's scarce a bush.REGANO, sir, to wilful men,The injuries that they themselves procureMust be their schoolmasters.Shut up your doors:He is attended with a desperate train;And what they may incense him to, being aptTo have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.CORNWALLShut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night:My Regan counsels well; come out o' the storm.[Exeunt]--------------------------------------Act 3"scene" 1Scene 1[A heath.][Storm still.Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting]KENTWho's there, besides foul weather?GentlemanOne minded like the weather, most unquietly.KENTI know you.Where's the king?GentlemanContending with the fretful element:Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea,Or swell the curled water '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 to out-scornThe to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,The lion and the belly-pinched wolfKeep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,And bids what will take all.KENTBut who is with him?GentlemanNone but the fool; who labours to out-jestHis heart-struck injuries.KENTSir, I do know you;And dare, upon the warrant of my note,Commend a dear thing to you.There is division,Although as yet the face of it be cover'dWith mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;Who have -- as who have not, that their great starsThroned and set high? -- servants, who seem no less,Which are to France the spies and speculationsIntelligent of our state; what hath been seen,Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes,Or the hard rein which both of them have borneAgainst the old kind king; or something deeper,Whereof perchance these are but furnishings;But, true it is, from France there comes a powerInto this scatter'd kingdom; who already,Wise in our negligence, have secret feetIn some of our best ports, and are at pointTo show their open banner.Now to you:If on my credit you dare build so farTo make your speed to Dover, you shall findSome that will thank you, making just reportOf how unnatural and bemadding sorrowThe king hath cause to plain.I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;And, from some knowledge and assurance, offerThis office to you.GentlemanI will talk further with you.KENTNo, do not.For confirmation that I am much moreThan my out-wall, open this purse, and takeWhat it contains.If you shall see Cordelia, --As fear not but you shall, -- show her this ring;And she will tell you who your fellow isThat yet you do not know.Fie on this storm!I will go seek the king.GentlemanGive me your hand: have you no more to say?KENTFew words, but, to effect, more than all yet;That, when we have found the king, -- in which your painThat way, I'll this, -- he that first lights on himHolla the other.[Exeunt severally]--------------------------------------"scene" 2Scene 2[Another part of the heath.Storm still.][Enter KING LEAR and Fool]KING LEARBlow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!You cataracts and hurricanoes, spoutTill you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,That make ingrateful man!FoolO nuncle, court holy-water in a dryhouse is better than this rain-water out o' door.Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing:here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool.KING LEARRumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, 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 fallYour horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man:But yet I call you servile ministers,That have with two pernicious daughters join'dYour high engender'd battles 'gainst a headSo old and white as this.O! O! 'tis foul!FoolHe that has a house to put's head in has a goodhead-piece.The cod-piece that will houseBefore the head has any,The head and he shall louse;So beggars marry many.The man that makes his toeWhat he his heart should makeShall of a corn cry woe,And turn his sleep to wake.For there was never yet fair woman but she mademouths in a glass.KING LEARNo, I will be the pattern of all patience;I will say nothing.[Enter KENT]KENTWho's there?FoolMarry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wiseman and a fool
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