Enter Edgar.
Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,(36) ^note



The lowest, most dejected thing of Fortune,
Stands still in esperance; lives not in fear.
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then,
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace!
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts.

Enter Glo'ster, led by an old man.
But who comes here?
My father poorly led? World, world, O world!(37) ^note

Old Man.
O my good Lord, I have been your tenant,
And your father's tenant, these fourscore years.

Glo.
Away, get thee away: good friend, be gone;
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee they may hurt.

Old Man.
You cannot see your way.

Glo.
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes:
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen,
Our mean secures us; and our meer defects
Prove our commodities.—O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath;
Might I but live to see thee in my Touch,(38) ^note

Old Man.
How now? who's there?

Edg.
O Gods! who is't can say, I'm at the worst?
I'm worse, than e'er I was.

Old Man.
'Tis poor mad Tom.

Edg.
And worse I may be yet: the worst is not,
So long as we can say, this is the worst.

Old Man.
Fellow, where goest?

Glo.
Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man.
Madman, and beggar too.

Glo.
He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I'th' last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
Which made me think a man, a worm. My son
Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him. I've heard more since.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to th' Gods;
They kill us for their sport.

Edg.
How should this be?
Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow,
Ang'ring it self and others.—Bless thee, master.

Glo.
Is that the naked fellow?

Old Man.
Ay, my lord.

Glo.
Get thee away: if, for my sake,
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain
I'th' way tow'rd Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some Covering for this naked soul,
Whom I'll intreat to lead me.

Old Man.
Alack, Sir, he is mad.

Glo.
'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind:
Do as I bid, or rather do thy pleasure;
Above the rest, be gone.

Old Man.
I'll bring him the best 'parrel that I have,
Come on't, what will. [Exit.

Glo.
Sirrah, naked fellow.

Edg.
Poor Tom's a-cold;—I cannot daub it further.

Glo.
Come hither, fellow.

Edg.
And yet I must;
Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

Glo.

Know'st thou the way to Dover?

Edg.

Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path: poor Tom hath been scar'd out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man, from the foul fiend. (39) ^noteFive fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of Lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididen, Prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Mohu, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since possesses chamber-maids and waiting-women.

Glo.
Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens plagues
Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched,
Makes thee the happier: heavens deal so still!
Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man,
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
Because he do's not feel, feel your power quickly:
So distribution should undo excess,

And each man have enough. Do'st thou know Dover?

Edg.
Ay, master.

Glo.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully on the confined deep:
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery, thou do'st bear,
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no leading need.

Edg.
Give me thy arm;
Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt.

Next section