CORNWALL.
Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm.
REGAN.
This house is little: the old man and his people
Cannot be well bestow'd.
GONERIL.
'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest
And must needs taste his folly.
REGAN.
For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
But not one follower.
GONERIL.
So am I purpos'd.
Where is my lord of Gloucester?
CORNWALL.
Followed the old man forth: — he is return'd.
[Re-enter Gloucester.]
GLOUCESTER.
The king is in high rage.
CORNWALL.
Whither is he going?
GLOUCESTER.
He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.
CORNWALL.
'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.
GONERIL.
My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
GLOUCESTER.
Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds
Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about
There's scarce a bush.
REGAN.
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.
CORNWALL.
Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night:
My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm.
[Exeunt.]
