Not only, sir, this your all-licens’d fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth In rank and not-to-be-endured riots.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: The tyranny of the open night’s too rough For nature to endure.
—Pour on; I will endure:— In such a night as this!
I never shall endure her: dear my lord, Be not familiar with her.
Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither; Ripeness is all:—come on.
Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man Who, having seen me in my worst estate, Shunn’d my abhorr’d society; but then, finding Who ’twas that so endur’d, with his strong arms He fastened on my neck, and bellow’d out As he’d burst heaven; threw him on my father; Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him That ever ear receiv’d: which in recounting His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded, And there I left him tranc’d.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head In hell-black night endur’d, would have buoy’d up, And quench’d the stelled fires; yet, poor old heart, He holp the heavens to rain.