The Complete Works of William Shakespeare · William Shakespeare
SCENE IV. A part of the Heath with a Hovel
Storm continues. Enter Lear, Kent and 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. 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 fix’d, The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear; But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, Thou’dst meet the bear i’ the mouth. When the mind’s free, The body’s delicate: the 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 the Fool._] In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty, Nay, get thee in. I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.
EDGAR. Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body, Horse to ride, and weapon to wear. But mice and rats and such small deer, Have been Tom’s food for seven long year. Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend! GLOUCESTER. What, hath your grace no better company? EDGAR. The prince of darkness is a gentleman: Modo he’s call’d, and Mahu. GLOUCESTER. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile That it doth hate what gets it. EDGAR. Poor Tom’s a-cold. GLOUCESTER. Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer T’obey in all your daughters’ hard commands; Though their injunction be to bar my doors, And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, Yet have I ventur’d to come seek you out, And bring you where both fire and food is ready. LEAR. First let me talk with this philosopher. What is the cause of thunder? KENT. Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house.
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