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 harder than the stones whereof ’tis raised,

Which even but now, demanding after you,

Denied me to come in—return and force

Their scanted courtesy.

LEAR

My wits begin to turn.

(To Fool) Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art

cold?

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

The art of our necessities is strange,

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.

FOOL ⌈Sings⌉

He that has and a little tiny wit,

With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain,

Must make content with his fortunes fit,

Though the rain it raineth every day.

LEAR

True, boy. (To Kent) Come, bring us to this hovel.

Exeunt Lear and Kent

FOOL This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. I’ll speak a prophecy ere I go:

When priests are more in word than matter;

When brewers mar their malt with water;

When nobles are their tailors’ tutors,

No heretics burned, but wenches’ suitors,

Then shall the realm of Albion

Come to great confusion.

When every case in law is right;

No squire in debt nor no poor knight;

When slanders do not live in tongues,

Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;

When usurers tell their gold i‘th’ field,

And bawds and whores do churches build,

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

That going shall be used with feet.

This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.

Exit

3.3 Enter the Duke of Gloucester and Edmond

GLOUCESTER Alack, alack, Edmond, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity 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.

EDMOND Most savage and unnatural!

GLOUCESTER Go to, 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 closet. These injuries the King now bears will be revenged home. There is part of a power already footed. We must incline to the King. I will look him and privily relieve him. Go you and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for’t—as no less is threatened me—the King my old master must be relieved. There is strange things toward, Edmond; pray you be careful. Exit

EDMOND

This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the Duke

Instantly know, and of that letter too.

This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me

That which my father loses: no less than all.

The younger rises when the old doth fall. Exit

3.4 Enter King Lear, the Earl of Kent disguised, and Lear’s Fool

KENT

Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter.

The tyranny of the open night’s too rough

For nature to endure.

Storm still

LEAR Let me alone.

KENT

Good my lord, enter here.

LEAR

Wilt break my heart?

KENT

I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.

LEAR

Thou think‘st ’tis much that this contentious storm

Invades us to the skin. So ‘tis to thee;

But where the greater malady is fixed,

The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear,

But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea

Thou‘dst meet the bear i’th’ mouth. When the mind’s

free,

The body’s delicate. This tempest in my mind

Doth from my senses take all feeling else

Save what beats there: filial ingratitude.

Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand

For lifting food to’t? But I will punish home.

No, I will weep no more.—In such a night

To shut me out? Pour on, I will endure.

In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril,

Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all—

O, that way madness lies. Let me shun that.

No more of that.

KENT

Good my lord, enter here.

LEAR

Prithee, go in thyself. Seek thine own ease.

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder

On things would hurt me more; but I’ll go in.

(To Fool) In, boy; go first. ⌈Kneeling⌉ You houseless

poverty—

Nay, get thee in. I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.

Exit Fool

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe‘er you are,

That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,

How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,

Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you

From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en

Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp,

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,

That thou mayst shake the superflux to them

And show the heavens more just.

Enter Lear’s Fool, ⌈and Edgar as a Bedlam beggar in the hovel⌉

EDGAR

Fathom and half! Fathom and half! Poor Tom!

FOOL Come not in here, nuncle. Here’s a spirit. Help me, help me!

KENT Give me thy hand. Who’s there? FOOL A spirit, a spirit. He says his name’s Poor Tom.

KENT

What art thou that dost grumble there i’th’ straw?

Come forth.

⌈Edgar comes forth⌉

EDGAR

Away, the foul fiend follows me.

Thorough the sharp hawthorn blow the winds. Hm!