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Your old kind Father, whofe frank Heart gave. all-
O that way madnefs lyes, let me fhun that,
No more of that.

Kent. Good my Lord, enter here.

[Exit Fool,

Lear. Prithee go in thy felf, feek thine own eafe,
This Tempeft will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more, but I'll go in,
In Boy, go first. You houfelels Poverty-
Nay, get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll fleep
Poor naked Wretches, wherefoe'er you are
That bide the pelting of this pitilefs Storm,
How fhall your houfelefs Heads, and unfed fides,
Your lop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From feafons fuch as these? O I have ta'en
Too little care of this; take Phyfick, Pomp,
Expofe thy felf to feel, what Wretches feel,
That thou may'ft shake the Superflux to them,
And fhew the Heav'ns more juft.

Enter Edgar, difguis'd like a Madman and Fool.
Edg. Fathom and half, Fathom and half! poor Tom.
Fool. Come not in here Nuncle, here's a Spirit, help me,
help me.

Kent. Give me thy Hand, who's there?

Fool. A Spirit, a Spirit, he fays his Name's poor Tom. Kent. What art thou that do'lt grumble there i'th' Straw? Come forth.

Edg. Away, the foul Fiend follows me, through the fharp Hawthorn blow the Winds. Humph, go to thy Bed and warm thee.

Lear. Didft thou give all to thy 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 Sword, and Whirlpool, o'er Bog, and Quagmire, that hath laid Knives under his Pillow, and Halters in his Pue; fet Ratsbane by his Porredge, made him proud of Heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horfe, over four arch'd Bridges, to courfe his own fhadow for a Traitor, bless thy five Wits, Tom's a cold. O do, de, de, de, do, de, bless thee from Whirle-winds, Star-blafting, and taking, do

poor

and there.

poor Tom fome Charity, whom the foul Fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and here again, [Storm ftill Lear. Have his Daughters brought him to this pafs? Could'ft thou fave nothing? would'ft thou give 'em all? Fool. Nay, he referv'd a Blanket, elfe we had been all fham'd.

Lear. Now all the Plagues that in the pendulous Air Hang fated o'er Mens faults, light on thy Daughters. Kent. He hath no Daughters, Sir.

Lear. Death, Traitor, nothing could have fubdu'd Nature To such a Lownefs, but his unkind Daughters.

Is it the Fashion, that difcarded Fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their Flesh?
Judicious Punishment, 'twas this Flesh begot
Thofe Pelican Daughters.

Edg. Pillicock fat on Pillicock-hill, alow; alow, loo, loo.
Fool. This cold Night will turn us all to Fools, and Mad-

men.

Edg. Take heed o' th' foul Fiend, obey thy Parents, keep thy word, do Juftice, fwear not, commit not with Man's fworn Spoufe; fet not thy Sweet-heart, on proud array. Tom's a cold.

Lear. What haft thou been?

Edg. A Servingman, proud in Heart, and Mind: That curl'd my Hair, wore Gloves in my Cap, ferv'd the Luft of my Mistress Heart, and did the act of darkness with her. Swore as many Oaths, as I fpake words, and broke them in the fweet Face of Heav'n. One, that flept in the contriving Luft, and wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd I dearly; Dice dearly; and in Woman, out-paramour'd the Turk Falfe of Heart, light of Ear, bloody handed. Hog in flɔth, Fox in ftealth, Wolf in greediness, Dog in madnefs, Lion in prey. Let not the creaking of Shooes, nor the ruftling of Silks, betray thy poor Heart to Woman. Keep thy Foot out of Brothels, thy Hand out of Plackets, thy Pen from Lenders Books, and defie the foul Fiend. Still through the Hawthorn blows the cold Wind: Says fuum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my Boy, Boy Seffey: Lct him trot by.

[Storm still.

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Lear. Thou wert better in a Grave, than to answer with thy uncover'd Body, this extremity of the Skies. Is Man no more than this? Confider him well. Thou ow'ft the Worm no Silk, the Beaft no Hide, the Sheep no Wool, the Cat no Perfume. Ha! Here's three on's are fophifticated. Thou art the thing it felf; unaccommodated Man, is no more but fuch a poor, bare, forked Animal as thou art. Off, off you Lendings: Come, unbutton here.

[Tearing off his Cloaths.

Enter Glofter with a Torch.

Fool, Prethee Nuncle be contented; 'tis a naughty Night to fwim in. Now a little Fire in a wild Field, were like an old Letcher's Heart, a fmall Spark, and all the rest on's Body cold; look, here comes a walking Fire.

Edg. This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he begins at Curfew, and walks at Firft Cock; he gives the Web and the Pin, fquints the Eye, and makes the Hair-lip; Mildews the white Wheat, and hurts the poor Creature of the Earth.

Swithold footed thrice the old;

He met the Night-Mare, and her Nine-fold,
Bid her alight, and her troth-plight,
And aroynt thee Witch, aroynt thee.

Kent. How fares your Grace?
Lear. What's he?

Kent. Who's there? what is't you feek?
Glo. What are you there? Your Names?

Edg. Poor Tom, that eats the fwimming Frog, the Toad, the Tod-pol; the Wall-neur, and the Water-neut; that in the fury of his Heart, when the foul Fiend rages, Eats Cow-dung for Sallets; fwallows the old Rar, and the Ditchdog; drinks the green Mantle of the ftanding Pool; Who is whipt from Tything to Tything, and ftockt, punish'd, and imprifon'd: Who hath three Suits to his Back, fix Shirts to his Body;

Horfe to ride, and Weapon to wear;

But Mice, and Rats, and fuch fmall Dear, Have been Tom's food for seven long Year; Beware my Follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou Fiend. Glo. What, hath your Grace no better Company?

Edg.

Edg. The Prince of Darkness is a Gentleman, Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.

Glo. Our Flesh and Blood, my Lord, is grown fo vile, that he doth hate what it gets.

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold."

Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot fuffer T'obey in all your Daughters hard commands: Though their injunction be to bar my Doors, And let this tyrannous Night take hold upon you, Yet have I ventur'd to come to feek you out, And bring you where both fire and food is ready. Lear. Firft let me talk with this Philofopher; What is the caufe of Thunder?

Kent. Good, my Lord, take his offer, Go into th' Houfe.

Lear. I'll talk a word with this fame learned Theban:
What is your Study?

Edg. How to prevent the Fiend, and to kill Vermin.
Lear. Let us ask you one word in private.

Kent. Importune him once more to go, my Lord,
His wits begin t' unfettle.

Glo. Canft thou blame him?

[Storm ftill

His Daughters feek his death: Ah, that good Kent!

He faid it would be thus; poor banish'd Man.

Thou fayeft the King grows mad, I'll tell thee, Friend,
I am almoft mad my felf, I had a Son,

Now out-law'd from my Blood, he fought my Life
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, Friend,

No Father his Son dearer: True to tell thee,

The grief hath craz'd my Wits. What a Night's this?
I do befeech your grace.

Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:

Noble Philofopher, your company.

Edg. Tom's a-cold.

Glo. In, Fellow, there, into th' Hovel; keep thee warm. Lear. Come, let's in all.

Kent. This way, my Lord.

Lear. With him;

I will keep ftill with my Philofopher.

Kent. Good, my Lord, footh him; let him take the Fellow.

Glo. Take him you on.

Kent.

Kent. Sirrah, come on; Go along with us.
Lear. Come, good Athenian.

Glo. No words, no words, hufh.

Edg. Child Rowland to the dark Tower came, His word was ftill, fie, foh, and fum,

I fmell the Blood of a British Man.

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[Exeunt.

Glofter's Caffle.

Enter Cornwall and Bastard.

Corn. I will have revenge, e'er I depart his House. Baft. How, my Lord, I may be cenfur'd, that Nature thus gives way to Loyalty, fomething fears me to think of. Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your Brother's evil Difpofition made him feek his Death: But a provoking Merit fet a work by a reprovable badrefs in him. felf.

Baft. How malicious is my Fortune, that I must repent to be juft? This is the Letter which he fpoke of; which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. O Heavn's! that this Treafon were not; or not I the Detector.

Corn. Go with me to the Dutchess.

Baft. If the matter of this Paper be certain, you have mighty Business in Hand.

Corn. True or falfe, it hath made thee Earl of Glofter: Seek out where thy Father is, that he may be ready for our apprehenfion.

Baft. If I find him comforting the King, it will off his Sufpicion more fully. I will perfevere in my course of Loyalty, though the confli& be fore between that and my Blood.

Corn. I will lay truft upon thee; and thou shalt find a dear Father in my Love.

SCENE V. A Chamber.

Enter Kent and Glofter,

Exeunt.

Glo. Here is better than the open Air, take it thankfully: I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can; I will not be long from you.

[Exit.

Kent.

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