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In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
Not altogether so, sir;
fit welcome: Give ear, sir, to niy sister;
Is this well spoke now?
Reg. Why not, my lord ? If then they chanc'd to
We could control them : If you will come to me,
Lear. I gave you all
And in good time you gave it. Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; But keep a reservation to be follow'd With such a number: What, must I come to you With five and twenty, Regan? said you so ?
Reg. And speak it again, my lord; no more with
Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well
favourid, When others are more wicked; not being the worst, Stands in some rank of praise: – I'll go with thee;
Hear me, my lord;
What need one?
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 stir these daughters' hearts
my man's cheeks !-No, you unnatural hags,
[Exeunt Lear, Gluster, Kent, and Fool, Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm.
[Storm heard at a distance.
'Tis his own blame; he hath put Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.
Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
So am I purpos'd
d. Where is
lord of Gloster ?
Whither is he going?
Glo. 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. Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak
winds Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about There's scarce a bush.
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'the storm.
ACT III. SCENE I.
A storm is heurd, with thunder and lightning. Enter
KENT, and a Gentlemun, meeting. Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather? Gent. One minded like the weather, most una
quietly. Kent. I know you; Where's the king ?
Gent. Contending with the fretful element: 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,
But who is with him?
Sir, I do know you; And dare, upon the warrant of