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

Lea.
Let me alone.

Ken.
Good my lord, enter here. ^note

Lea.
Wilt break my heart?

Ken.
I had rather break mine own: Good my lord, enter.

Lea.
Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious ^note storm
Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst ^note shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging ^note sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i'the mouth. When the mind's free,
The body's delicate: the tempest ^note in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats ^note there.—Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
For lifting food to't ^note?—But I will punish home: ^note—
No, I will weep no more.—In such a night ^note
To shut me out!—Pour on; I will endure:—
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril,
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all, ^note—
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that, ^note

Ken.
Good my lord, enter here. ^note

Lea.
Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own ^note ease;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in:—
In, boy; go first.—You houseless poverty,— ^note
Nay, get thee in. [Exit Fool.] I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.— ^note
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That 'bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, ^note
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd ^note and window'd raggedness, 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 shew the heavens more just. [Poor Tom!

Edg. [within.]

Fathom and half, fathom and half: ^note

Foo.

Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit; help me, help me!

Ken.

Give me thy hand.—Who's there?

Foo.

A spirit, a spirit; he ^note says, his name's ^note poor Tom.

Ken.
What art thou that dost grumble there i'the straw?
Come forth. Enter Edgar, disguis'd like a Madman.

Edg.
Away! the foul fiend follows me!—
  Through ^note the sharp hauthorn blows the cold wind. ^note—
Humph! ^note go to thy cold ^note bed,14Q1351 and warm thee.

Lea.

Did'st thou give all to thy daughters? ^note 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, ^note through ford and ^note whirl-pool ^note, over bog and quag-mire; that hath lay'd ^note knives under his pillow, and halters in his pue; set rats-bane by his porridge; ^note made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse over four-inch'd bridges, ^note to course his own shadow for a traitor:—Bless thy five wits! Tom's a cold: O, do, de, de, do, do, do: Bless thee from whirl-winds, star-blasting ^note, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: There could I have him now, and there, and there again, and there. ^note

Lea.
What, ^note have ^note his daughters brought him to this pass?—

Could'st thou save nothing? Did'st thou give ^note them all?

Foo.

Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all shamed.

Lea.
Now, all the plagues, that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on ^note thy daughters!

Ken.
He hath no daughters, sir.

Lea.
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.

Edg.

Pilicock sat on Pilicock hill;—Haloo, loo, loo. ^note

Foo.

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

Edg.

Take heed of the ^note foul fiend: Obey thy parents; keep thy word ^note justly; ^note swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array:— Tom's a-cold.

Lea.

What hast thou been?

Edg.

A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair, wore 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 heaven: one, that slept on the ^note contriving of lust, and wak'd to do it: Wine lov'd I deeply; ^note dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramour'd the Turk: False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; ^note Hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling ^note of silks, betray thy poor

heart to woman: ^note Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, ^note thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.—Still through the hauthorn blows the cold wind.—Ha! nenni;14Q1352 dolphin, my boy, my boy, sesse; let ^note him trot by.

Lea.

Thou ^note wert better in thy grave, ^note than to answer with thy uncover'd body this extremity of the skies.— Is man no more than this? ^note Consider him well: Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no pérfume:—Ha! ^note here's three on's ^note 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 ^note;— come, unbutton here. ^note

Foo.

Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a ^note naughty night to swim in.—Now a little fire in a wild field ^note were like an old letcher's heart; a small spark, all the rest of's body ^note cold.—Look, here comes a walking fire.

Edg.

This is the foul fiend Fliberdegibbet ^note: he begins at curfeu, and walks 'till the first ^note cock; he gives the web and the pin ^note, squints the ^note eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.

St Withold ^note14Q1353 footed thrice the wold;
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
  Bid her alight,
  And her troth plight,
And, Aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! ^note

Ken.

How fares your grace?

Lea.

What's he?

Ken.

Who's there? ^note What is't you seek?

Glo.

What are you there? Your names?

Edg.

Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tad-pole, the wall-newt, and ^note the water-newt; that in the fury of ^note his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, ^note swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipt from tything to tything, and stock-punish'd, ^note and imprison'd; who hath had ^note 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 ^note Tom's food for seven long year.

Beware my follower:—Peace, Smolkin; ^note peace, thou fiend.

Glo.
What, hath your grace no better company?

Edg.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman;
Modo he's ^note call'd, and Mahu.

Glo.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile, ^note
That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg.
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 this tyrannous night take hold upon you;
Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food ^note is ready.

Lea.
First let me talk with this philosopher:—
What is the cause of thunder?

Ken.
Good my lord ^note, take his offer;
Go into the house.

Lea.
I'll talk a word with this same learned ^note Theban:—
What is your study?

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

Lea.
Let me ask you one word in private.

Ken.
Impórtune him once more ^note to go, my lord,
His wits begin to unsettle.

Glo.
Can'st thou blame him?
His daughters seek his death:—Ah, that ^note good Kent!
He said, it would be thus: Poor banish'd man!—
Thou say'st, the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself: I had a son,
Now out-law'd from my blood, he sought ^note my life,
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,—
No father his son dearer: true to ^note tell thee,
The grief hath craz'd ^note my wits. What a night's this?—
I do beseech your grace,—

Lea.
O, cry you mercy: ^note—
Noble philosopher, your company.

Edg.
Tom's a-cold.

Glo.
In, fellow, there, to the ^note hovel ^note; keep thee warm.

Lea.
Come, let's in all.

Ken.
This way, my lord.

Lea.
With him;
I will keep still with my philosopher.

Ken.
Good my lord, sooth him; let him take the fellow.

Glo.
Take him you on.

Ken.
On, sirrah; go with ^note us.

Lea.
Come, good Athenian.

Glo.
No words, no words; hush.

Edg.
Child Rowland to the dark tower come, ^note &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3;

His word was still,—Fie, fo, and fum,
  I smell the blood of a British man.14Q1354 [Exeunt.

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