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.]
ACT III
SCENE I. A Heath
A storm with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent and a Gentleman, severally.
KENT.
Who’s there, besides foul weather?