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Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger

Speak 'gainst so great a number? How in one house

Should many people, under two commands,

Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible.

Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance

From those that she calls servants, or from mine?

Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd to slack ye,

We could control them. If you will come to me

(For now I spy a danger), I entreat you

To bring but five-and-twenty. To no more

Will I give place or notice.

Lear. I gave you all-

Reg. And in good time you gave it!

Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries;

But kept a reservation to be followed

With such a number. What, must I come to you

With five-and-twenty, Regan? Said you so?

Reg. And speak't again my lord. No more with me.

Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd

When others are more wicked; not being the worst

Stands in some rank of praise. [To Goneril] I'll go with thee.

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,

And thou art twice her love.

Gon. Hear, me, my lord.

What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,

To follow in a house where twice so many

Have a command to tend you?

Reg. What need one?

Lear. O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars

Are in the poorest thing superfluous.

Allow not nature more than nature needs,

Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady:

If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st

Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need-

You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,

As full of grief as age; wretched in both.

If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts

Against their father, fool me not so much

To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,

And let not women's weapons, water drops,

Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags!

I will have such revenges on you both

That all the world shall- I will do such things-

What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be

The terrors of the earth! You think I'll weep.

No, I'll not weep.

I have full cause of weeping, but this heart

Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws

Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!

Exeunt Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool. Storm and tempest.

Corn. Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm.

Reg. This house is little; the old man and 's people

Cannot be well bestow'd.

Gon. 'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest

And must needs taste his folly.

Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,

But not one follower.

Gon. So am I purpos'd.

Where is my Lord of Gloucester?

Corn. Followed the old man forth.

Enter Gloucester.

He is return'd.

Glou. The King is in high rage.

Corn. Whither is he going?

Glou. He calls to horse, but will I know not whither.

Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.

Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.

Glou. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds

Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about

There's scarce a bush.

Reg. O, sir, to wilful men

The injuries that they themselves procure

Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors.

He is attended with a desperate 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.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III. Scene I. A heath.

Storm still. Enter Kent and a Gentleman at several doors.

Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather?

Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

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 to outscorn

The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and