SCENE VII.
Enter Glo'ster with a torch.
Lear.
What's he?
Kent.
Who's there? what is't you seek?
Glo.
What are you there? your names?
Edg.
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the
tod-pole; the wall-newt, and the water-newt; that in the fury
of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets;
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, and imprison'd: who hath 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;
Beware my follower. Peace smulkin, peace thou fiend.
Glo.
What, hath your grace no better company?
Edg.
The Prince of darkness is a gentleman, Modo he's call'd,
and Mahu.
Glo.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile,
That it doth hate what gets it.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
T' obey in all your daughters hard commands:
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
-- 64 --
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;
What is the cause of thunder?
Kent.
My good lord, take his offer,
Go into th' house.
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 us ask you one word in private.
Kent.
Importune him to go, my lord,
His wits begin t' unsettle.
Glo.
Can'st thou blame him?
[Storm still.
His daughters seek his death: ah, that 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'm almost mad my self; I had a son,
Now out-law'd from my blood, he sought my life
But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,
No father his son dearer: true to tell thee,
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this?
I do beseech your grace.
Lear.
O cry you mercy, Sir:
Noble philosopher, your company.
Edg.
Tom's a-cold.
Glo.
In, fellow, into th' hovel; keep thee warm.
Lear.
Come, let's in all.
Kent.
This way, my lord.
Lear.
With him;
I will keep still with my philosopher.
Kent.
Good, my lord, sooth him; let him take the fellow.
Glo.
Take him you on.
Kent.
Sirrah, come on; along with us.
-- 65 --
Lear.
Come, good Athenian.
Glo.
No words, no words, hush.
Edg.
Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still, fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
[Exeunt.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
