Page 1853 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

(The Heath. Before a Hovel.)

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.

(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. [5]

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’ldst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea, [10]

Thou’ldst 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 [15]

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!