Act III · Scene I
A heath.
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Storm still. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting
KENT
Who's there, besides foul weather?
Gentleman
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
KENT
I know you. Where's the king?
Gentleman
Contending with the fretful element:Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea,Or swell the curled water '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 out-scornThe to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,The lion and the belly-pinched wolfKeep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,And bids what will take all.
KENT
But who is with him?
Gentleman
None but the fool; who labours to out-jestHis heart-struck injuries.
KENT
Sir, I do know you;And dare, upon the warrant of my note,Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,Although as yet the face of it be cover'dWith mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;Who have--as who have not, that their great starsThroned and set high?--servants, who seem no less,Which are to France the spies and speculationsIntelligent of our state; what hath been seen,Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes,Or the hard rein which both of them have borneAgainst the old kind king; or something deeper,Whereof perchance these are but furnishings;But, true it is, from France there comes a powerInto this scatter'd kingdom; who already,Wise in our negligence, have secret feetIn some of our best ports, and are at pointTo show their open banner. Now to you:If on my credit you dare build so farTo make your speed to Dover, you shall findSome that will thank you, making just reportOf how unnatural and bemadding sorrowThe king hath cause to plain.I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;And, from some knowledge and assurance, offerThis office to you.
Gentleman
I will talk further with you.
KENT
No, do not.For confirmation that I am much moreThan my out-wall, open this purse, and takeWhat it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,--As fear not but you shall,--show her this ring;And she will tell you who your fellow isThat yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!I will go seek the king.
Gentleman
Give me your hand: have you no more to say?
KENT
Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet;That, when we have found the king,--in which your painThat way, I'll this,--he that first lights on himHolla the other.
Exeunt severally