And, hurling forth threats of revenge, King Lear hurried from the castle, followed by his faithful companions, the Fool and the Earl of Kent. Darkness was coming on; it was a wild night of storm; the wind howled and raged; for miles around on the desolate heath there was not even a bush for shelter. But the heart-broken father’s only thought was to fly from the cruel daughters who had so shamefully treated him. The Earl of Gloucester came in much concern to tell Goneril and Regan that the King was leaving the castle, but they bade him with cold brutality not to persuade him to stay, but to shut his doors. Regan remarked that to wilful men the injuries they brought on themselves must be their own schoolmasters; Lear was attended with a desperate train, and it was wise to be cautious. “Shut up your doors, my lord,” agreed Cornwall; “it’s a wild night; my Regan counsels well. Come in, out of the storm.” Night and Storm Out into the night and storm hurried King Lear, but little he heeded the darkness or the raging of the elements, for now he was mad--really mad. Amid the howling of the blast, cataracts of rain, the rattle of thunder, and blinding flashes of lightning, the old man wandered, bareheaded, tearing his white locks, and shouting incoherent exclamations to the whirlwind. “Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!... Spit, fire! Spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters. I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness. I never gave you kingdom, called you children; you owe me nothing; then let fall your horrible pleasure. Here I stand, your slave, a poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man.” [Illustration: “Blow, winds! Rage! Blow!”] Then, his mood altering, he called them the servile ministers of two pernicious daughters, who had joined with them in battle against an old white head. So he went on, raving wildly, while all the time the faithful Fool clung to him, half supporting his tottering steps, and still striving with his jests to divert the mind of his heart-broken master.