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That art incestuous. Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
55Hast practiced on man’s life. Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents and cry
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
More sinned against than sinning.
mercy from the gods who summon these terrifying winds and thunderbolts. Other people have sinned against me more than I have sinned against them.

KENT

     Alack, bareheaded?
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel.
60Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest.
Repose you there, while I to this hard house—
More harder than the stones whereof ’tis raised,
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Denied me to come in—return, and force
65Their scanted courtesy.

KENT

Why, you’re not even wearing a hat? My lord, there’s a hut nearby. It will give you some protection from this storm. Rest there while I go back to the unfriendly house where your sisters are staying, and ask them for help. They are harder than the stones the house is made of. Just now, when I asked them if they knew where you were, they wouldn’t let me in. But I’ll go back and force them to be polite.

LEAR

   My wits begin to turn.—
(to FOOL)
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold?
I am cold myself.
(to KENT)
   Where is this straw, my fellow?
70The art of our necessities is strange
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel.
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That’s sorry yet for thee.

LEAR

I’m starting to lose my mind. (to the FOOL) Come on, my boy. How are you? Are you cold? I’m cold myself. (to KENT) Where’s this hut, man? Odd how when you’re desperate, even shoddy things like this hut can seem precious. Show me where that hut is. Poor fool, part of me still feels sorry for you.

FOOL

(sings)
75 He that has and a little tiny wit—
With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain—
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
For the rain it raineth every day.

FOOL

(singing)
The stupid man—
Hey-hoy, the wind and the rain—
Must take what he can get,
Since the rain comes every day.

LEAR

True, my good boy.—Come, bring us to this hovel.

LEAR

That’s true, my good boy.—Come on, take us to that hut.
Exeunt LEAR and KENT
LEAR and KENT exit.