Kent.
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure. [Storm still.

Lear.
Let me alone.

Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.

Lear.
Wilt break my heart?

Kent.
I'd rather break mine own: Good my lord, enter.

Lear.
Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt. The tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there.—Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
For lifting food to't?—But I will punish home:—
No, I will weep no more.—In such a night
To shut me out!—Pour on; I will endure:
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!—

Your kind old father, whose frank heart gave all;—
O, that way madness lies: let me shun that;
No more of that,—

Kent.
Good my lord, enter here.

Lear.
Prythee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease;
In, boy; go first^{18 note} (to the Fool). You houseless poverty,—
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.— [Fool goes in.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness,^{19 note} defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physick, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel;
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.

Edg. (within).

Fathom and half, fathom and half!^{20 note} 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 says his name's poor Tom.

Kent.
What art thou that dost grumble there i' 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 bed, and warm thee.

Lear.
Hast thou given all to thy two daughters?
And art thou come to this?

Edg.

Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame,^{21 note} through swamp and whirlpool over bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow,(B)8Q0100 and halters in his pew; 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!^{22 note} Tom's a-cold.—O, bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking.^{23 note} 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, have his daughters brought him to this pass?—
Could'st thou save nothing? Did'st thou give them all?

Kent.
He hath no daughters, Sir.

Lear.
Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd 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 pelican daughters.^{24 note}

Edg.
Pillicock^{25 note} sat on pillicock's-hill;—
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!

Lear.
What hast thou been?

Edg.

A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair;(C)8Q0101 wore gloves in my cap,^{26 note} swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face

of heaven. False of heart, light of ear,^{27 note} bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness,(D)8Q0102 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 pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind. Ha no'nonny;—(E)8Q0103 dolphin, my boy, my boy, sessa; let him trot by.

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.

Fool.

Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented.

Kent.

Defend his wits, good heaven.

Lear.

What is your name?

Edg.

Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the wall-newt, and the water-newt; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, swallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipp'd from tything to tything;(F)8Q0104 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,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.(G)8Q0105

Beware, my follower:—Peace, Smolkin;^{28 note} peace, thou fiend!

Lear.
To have a thousand with red burning spits
Come hissing in upon them.

Kent.
I feared it would come to this.

Edg.

Frateretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler

in the lake of darkness;^{29 note} pray, innocent,^{30 note} and beware the foul fiend.

Lear.

It shall be done; I will arraign them straight, most learned justicer.—Arraign her first;—It's Goneril!

Edg.
My tears begin to take his part so much,
They mar my counterfeiting.

Lear.
The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanche, and Sweetheart,—see, they bark at me!

Edg.
Tom will throw his head at them:—Avaunt, you curs!

Be thy mouth or black, or white,
Tooth that poisons, if it bite;
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound, or spaniel, brache, or lym;^{31 note}
Bob-tail tike,^{32 note} or trundle tail;^{33 note}
Tom will make 'em weep and wail:
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
See—see—see!—Let's march to wakes and fairs,
And market towns:—Poor Tom! thy horn is dry.(H)8Q0106

Kent.
How do you, Sir?—Stand you not so amaz'd:—
Will you go in?

Lear.
I'll see their trial first.—Bring in the evidence.

Kent.

All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience.

Lear.

You, Sir. I entertain you for one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments: you will say, they are Persian; but let them be changed.

Edg.

This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet;(I)8Q0107 he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock.(K)8Q0108

Saint Withold footed thrice the wold(L)8Q0109
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold,
'Twas there he did appoint her;
  He bid her alight
  And her troth plight,
And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee.

Fool.
Look, here comes a walking fire! Enter Gloster, attended by two Servants with torches, and Men carrying a litter.

Glo.
What? has your grace no better company?

Edg.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman;^{34 note}
Modo he is called, and Mahu.(M)8Q0110
Poor Tom's a cold!

Glo.
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands:
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let the tyrannous night take hold upon you;
Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.

Lear.
First let me talk with this philosopher:— [Lear and Edgar sit down.
What is the cause of thunder?

Kent.
Good, my lord, take his offer.

Lear.
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.—
What is your study?

Edg.
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.

Lear.
Let me ask you one word in private. [Whispers in Edgar's ear.

Kent.
Importune him once more to go, my lord,
His wits begin to unsettle.

Glos.
Canst thou blame him?
His daughters seek his death:—
Thou say'st, the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself:

This bedlam but disturbs him—
Fellow, begone.

Edg.
Child Rowland^{35 note} to the dark tower came,
His word was still—fi, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man. [Retires into hovel.

Kent.
Now, good my lord.

Lear.

Aye, let them anatomise Regan, see what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in nature for these hard hearts?

Glos.
Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy arms;
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him.
Here is a litter ready; lay him in't,
And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection.
Good Sir, along with us.

Lear.

Hush! make no noise; make no noise—draw the curtains closer, closer. So, so, so. We'll go to supper i' the morning, so, so, so.