FOOL.

....there was never yet fair woman, but she

made mouths in a glass.

KENT.

Since I was man,

Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard.

LEAR.

..Tremble, thou wretch,

That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice.

.I am a man,

More sinn'd against than sinning.

KENT.

The tyranny of the open night's too rough

For nature to endure.

LEAR.

where the greater malady is fix'd,

The lesser is scarce felt.

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.

KING LEAR.

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd 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 may'st shake the superflux to them,
And shew the heavens more just.

EDGAR.

Away! the foul fiend follows me!

Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.

LEAR.

95

Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on my daughters!

.. How fearful

EDGAR.

And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!

The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Shew scarce so gross as beetles.

..... The murmuring surge,

That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,

Cannot be heard so high.

GLOUCESTER.

O you mighty gods!

This world I do renounce; and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great affliction off.

KENT.

To be acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth.

CORDELIA.

Was this a face

To be exposed against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick, cross lightning?

Howl, howl, howl, howl!-O, you are men of stones;

Had I

your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so

That heaven's vault should crack.

CYMBELINE.

IMOGEN.

Thou should'st have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left

To after-eye him.

I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but

To look upon him; till the diminution

Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle:

Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from

The smallness of a gnat to air.

.ere I could

Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing.

To your protection I commend me, gods!
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, beseech ye!

H

IACHIMO.

"Tis her breathing that

Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper
Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
To see the enclosed lights.

O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
And be her sense but as a monument,

Thus in a chapel lying!

Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!-that dawning May bare the raven's eye.

CYMBELINE.

'Tis gold

Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up

Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief; Nay, sometimes, hangs both thief and true man. What Can it not do, and undo?

POSTHUMUS.

The swiftest harts have posted you by land;
And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails,

To make your vessel nimble.

I hope the briefness of your answer made
The speediness of your return.