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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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SCENE VI. Enter Edgar, disguis'd like a Madman.

Edg.
Away! the foul fiend follows me.
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.
2 note
Humph, go to thy bed and warm thee.

-- 89 --

Lear.

Didst 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 3 noteled through fire and through flame, through ford and through whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath 4 notelaid 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. O do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirl-winds, star-blasting, and 5 note

taking. Do poor
Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now—and there—and here again, and there.

[Storm still.

Lear.
What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
—Couldst thou save nothing? didst thou give 'em all?

Fool.

Nay, he reserv'd 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 daughters!

Kent.
He hath no daughters, Sir.

Lear.
Death! traitor. Nothing could have subdued nature
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Those * notepelican daughters.

-- 90 --

Edg.
Pillicock sat on pillicock-hill,
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!

Fool.

This cold night will turn us all to fools, and madmen.

Edg.

Take heed o'th' 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, 6 notewore gloves in my cap, serv'd 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 heav'n. One that slept in the contriving lust, and wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramour'd the Turk. False of heart, 7 notelight 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 woman. 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: 8 notesays suum, mun, nonny, dolphin my boy, boy, Sessey: let him trot by.

[Storm still.

-- 91 --

Lear.

Thou wert 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 ow'st 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; 'tis a naughty night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's heart, a small 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 till the first cock. He gives the * noteweb and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hair-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of the earth.



9 note














Saint Withold footed thrice the Wold,
He met the night-mare, and her name told,
Bid her alight, and her troth plight,
And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee.

Kent.

How fares your Grace?

-- 92 --

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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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