(Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool)
Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure.
Let me alone
Good my lord, enter here.
Wilt break my heart? KENT
I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.
Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious
Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'ldst shun a bear
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the
The body's delicate: 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 old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,-- O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.
Good my lord, enter here.
Prithee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease:
will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.
(To the Fool)
In, boy; go first. You houseless
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
(Fool goes in)Poor naked wretches, whereso'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, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just. EDGAR
(Within) Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!
(The Fool runs out from the hovel)
Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit
Help me, help me!
Give me thy hand. Who's there?
A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom
What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw?
(Enter EDGAR disguised as a mad
Away! the foul fiend
Through the sharp hawthorn
blows the cold wind.
Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
KING LEARHast thou given all to thy two daughters?
And art thou come to this? EDGAR
Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul
fiend hath led through fire
and through flame, and
through ford and whirlipool
e'er bog and quagmire
that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters
in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made film
proud of heart, to ride on a bay trot
four-inched 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 whirlwinds,
star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some
charity, whom the foul fiend vex
es: there could I
have him now,--and there,--and there again, and there.
What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all?
Nay, he reserved a blanket
, else we had been all shamed.
Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous
Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters!
KENTHe hath no daughters, sir.
, 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
Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill:
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!
This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
Take heed o' the 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.
What hast thou been?
, proud in heart and mind; that curled
my hair; wore gloves
in my cap; served the lust of
my mistress' 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 in the contriving of lust
, and waked to do it:
wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman
out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of
ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
Let not the creak
ing of shoes nor the rustling of silk
s 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
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:
Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny. Dolphin
my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.
Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer
with thy uncovered 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 on
's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself:
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare,
as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!
come unbutton here.
(Tearing off his clothes)
Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty
to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were
like an old lecher
's heart; a small spark, all the
rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.
, with a torch)
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins
at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives
the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the
s the white wheat, and hurts the
poor creature of earth.
S. Withold footed thrice the old;
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
Bid her alight,
And her troth plight,
And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee
How fares your grace?
Who's there? What is't you seek?
What are you there? Your names?
Poor Tom; that eats the swim
ming frog, the toad,
the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in
the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rage
eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and
the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle
standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to
tithing, and stock- punished, and imprisoned; 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.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin
; peace, thou fiend!
What, hath your grace no better company?
EDGARThe prince of darkness is a gentleman
Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.
Our flesh and blood is grown so vile
, my lord,
That it doth hate what gets it.
Poor Tom's a-cold.
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 ventured to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food
First let me talk with this philosopher
What is the cause of thunder?
Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house.
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban
What is your study?
How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin
Let me ask you one word in private.
Importune him once more to go, my lord;
His wits begin to unsettle.
Canst thou blame him?
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 am almost mad myself: I had a son,
Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life,
But lately, very late: I loved him, friend;
No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee,
The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this!
I do beseech
O, cry your mercy, sir. Noble philosopher
, your company.
In, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee warm.
Come let's in all.
This way, my lord.
I will keep still with my philosopher
Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.
Take him you on.
Sirrah, come on; go along with us.
Come, good Athenian
No words, no words: hush.
to the dark tower came,
His word was still,--Fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a Brit
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