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Edg. [within.] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!
[The Fool runs out from the hovel. Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, help me!
Kent. Give me thy hand.—Who's there?
the straw ? Come forth.
Enter Edgar, disguised as a Madman. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me!Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters? And art thou come to this?
Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inch'd bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor:- Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold.-0, do de, do de, do de.-Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes : There could I have him now,-and there, and there, -and there again, and there.
Lear. What, bave his daughters brought him to
this Could'st thou save nothing? Did'st thou give them
all ? Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous
air Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daugh
ters! Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd
Edg. Pillicock sat on pillicock's-hill;
Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
Edg. Take heed o' the foul fiend: Obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array: Tom's a-cold.
Lear. What hast thou been ?
Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair; wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress's heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven:
one, that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it: Wine loved I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramour’d the Turk: False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; Hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to women: Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.—Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: Says suum, mun, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa ; let him trot by.
(storm continues. Lear. Why, thou were better in thy grave, than to answer with thy uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this ? Consider him well: Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume : Ha! here's three of us are sophisticated !—Thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.Off, off, you lendings :--Come; unbutton here.
[tearing off his clothes. Fool. Pr’ythee, nuncle, be contented; this is a naughty night to swim in.--Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the rest of his body cold.-Look, here comes a walking fire.
Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet : he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and the pini, squints the eye, and
makes the hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.
Saint Withold footed thrice the wold;
Bid her alight,
And her troth plight,
Enter Glo'ster, with a torch.
Edg: Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog ; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipp'd from tything to tything, and stock’d, punish’d, and imprison'd; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear,
But mice, and rats, and such small deer,
follower:-Peace, Smolkin; peace, thou
fiend! Glo. What, hath your grace no better company? Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman;
Modo he's call’d, and Mahu.
Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.
Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher:-
Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; ;
Can'st thou blame him?