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Your loopt and windowed raggednesse defend you
From seasons such as these, o I haue tane
Too little care of this, take physicke pompe,
Expose thy felfe co feele what wretches feele,
That thou maist shake the superflux to them,
And Mew the heruens more iust.

Foole. Come not in here nunckle, here's a spirit, helpe me, help me.

Kent. Giue me thy hand, who's there?
Foole. A spirit, he sayes his name is poore Tom.

Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there in the straw? come foorth.

Edg. Away, the foule fiend followes me, through the sharpe hathorne blowes the cold winde, goe to thy cold bed and warme thee.

Lear. Hast thou giuen all to thy two daughters, and art thou come to this?

Edg. Who giues any thing to poore Tom, whom the foule fiend hath led through fire, and throgh foord, and whirlipoole, ore bog and quagmire, that has laide kniues vader his pillow, and halters in his pue, set ratsbane by his pottage, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse ouer four incht bridges, to course his owne shadow for a traitor, blesse thy fiue wits, Toms a cold, blesse thee from whirlewindes, starre-blusting, and taking, do poore Tom some charity, whom the foule fiend vexes, there could I haue him now, and there, and there againe.

Lear. What, his daughters brought him to this passe, Could't thou saue nothing? didst thou giue them all ?

Foole. Nay he reserued a blanket, else wee had beene all Ihamed.

Lear. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre
Hang fated ore mens faults, fall on thy daughters.
Kent. He hath no daughters fir.


Lear. Death traitor, nothing could haue subdued nature,
To such a lowneffe, but his vnkinde daughters,
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers,
Should haue thus little mercy on their flesh,
Indicious punishment, twas this flesh
Begot those pelicane daughters.

Edg. Pilicock fate on pelicocks hill, a lo lo lo.
Foole. This cold night will turne vs all to fooles and mad-


Edg. Take heed of the foule fiend, obey thy parents, keepe thy words iustly, sweare not, commit not with mans sworne spouse, fet not thy sweet heart on proud array ; Toms a cold.

Lear. What hast thou beene ?

Edg. A seruingman, proud in heart and minde, that curlde my baire, wore gloues in my cap, serued the luft of my mistris heart, and did the acte of darknesse with her, swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweete face of heauen, one that Nept in the contriuing of luft, and wak't to do it, wine loued I dee pely, dice dearely, and in woman, out paramord the Turke, false of heart, light of eare, bloudy of hand, hog in Noth, fox in stealth, wolfe in greedinesse, dog, in madnesse, lyon in prey, let not the creeking of shooes, nor the rulings of filkes betray thy poore heart to women, keepe thy foote out of brothell, thy hand out of placket, thy pen from lenders booke, and defie the foule fiend, still through the hathorne blowes the colde winde, hay no on ny, dolphin my boy, my boy, cease let him trot by.

Lear. Why thou wert better in thy graue, then to answer with thy vncouered body this extremity of the skies ; is man no more but this ? consider him well, thou owest the worme no filke, the beast no hide, the freep no wooll, the cat no perfume, he'rs three ones are sophisticated, thou art the thing it felfe, vnaccommodated man is no more but such a poore


bare forked animal as thou art, off, off you leadings, come on be true.

Foole. Prithee nunckle be content, this is a naughty night to swim in, now a little fire in a wilde field, were like an old lechers heart, a small sparke, all the rest in body colde, looke here comes a walking fire.

Enter Glocester. Edg. This is the foule fiend Sirberdegibit, he begins at curfue, and walks till the first cocke, he gios the web, the pinqueuer the eye, and makes the hart lip, mildewes the white wheate, and hurts the poore creature of earth, swithald footed thrice the olde anelthu night moore and her nine fold bid her, O light and her troth plight and arint thee, with arint thee.

Kent. How fares your grace ?
Lear. What's he?
Kent. Whose there? what ist


seeke? Gloft What are you


your names. Edg. Poore Tom, that eates the swimming frog, the toade, the toade pold, the wall-wort, and the water, that in the fruite of his heart, when the foule fiend rages, Eates cowdung for sallets, swallowes the old rat, and the ditch-dog, drinkes the greene mantle of the standing poole, who is whipt from tything to tything, and stock-punisht and imprisoned, who hath had three sutes to his backe, fixe shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapon to weare.

But mice and rats, and such small deere,

Hath beene Tons food for feuen long yeare.
Beware my follower, peace snulbug, peace thou fiend.

Gloft. What, hath your grace no better company?

Edg. The prince of darknes is a gentleman, modo hee's called, and ma hu


Gloft. Our flesh and bloud is growne so vilde my lord, that it doth hate what gets it.

Edg. Poore Toms a colde.

Gloft. Go in with me, my duty cannot suffer to obey in al your daughters hard commands, though their iniunction be to barre my doores, and let this tyranous night take hold vpon you, yet haue I venter'd to come seeke you out, and bring you where both food and fire is ready.

Lear. First let me talke with this philosopher ;
What is the cause of thunder ?
Kent. My good lord take his offer, go into the house.

Lear. Ile talke a word with this most learned Theban ; what
is your study?
Edg. How to preuent the fiend, and to kill vermine,
Lear. Let me aske you one word in private.
Kent. Importune him to goe my lord, his wits begin to

Gloft. Canst thou blame him?
His daughters seeke his death. O that good Kent,
He said it would be thus, poore banisht man,
Thou saist the king growes mad, ile tell thee friend,
I am almost mad myselfe ; I had a fonne
Now out-lawed from my bloud, he fought my life
But lately, very late, I lou'd him friend,
No father his fonne dearer, truth to tell thee,
The greefe has craz’d my wits.
What a night's this? I do beseech your grace.

Lear. O cry you mercy noble philosopher, your company.
Edg. Tom's a cold.
Gloft. In fellow there, into th’ houell, keepe thee warme.
Lear. Come, let's in all.
Kent. This way my lord.
Lear, With him I will keepe Nill, with my philosopher.


Kent. Good my lord sooth him, let him take the fellow,
Glost. Take him you on.
Kent. Sirra come on, go along with vs.
Lear. Come good Atbenian.
Glost. No words, no words, hush.

Edg. Childe Rowland, to the darke towne come,
His word was still fye, fo, and fum,
I smell the bloud of a Britib man.

Entor Cornwall and Bastard.
Corn. I will haue my revenge ere I depart the house.

Baft. How my lord I may be censured, that nature thus giues way to loyalty, fome-thing feares me to thinke of.

Corn. I now perceiue it was not altogether your brothers euil disposition made him seeke his death, but a prouoking merit, fet a worke by a reproueable badnesse in himselfe.

Bajt. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to bee iust? this is the letter he spoke off, which approues him an intelligent partie to the aduantages of France, O heauens, that his treason were, or not I the detecter.

Corn. Go with me to the dutches.

Bast. If the matter of this paper be certaine, you haue mighty businesse in hand.

Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earle of Glocester, seeke out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension.

Baft. If I finde him comforting the king, it will stuffe his fufpition more fully, I will perfeuere in my course of loyalty, thogh the conflict be sore betweene that and my bloud.

Corn. I will lay trust vpon thee, and thou shalt finde a dearer father in my loue.



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