No. XXIV.-KING LEAR. ACT II. SCENE IV. Changes to a part of the Heath with a Hovel. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. KENT. HERE is the place, my Lord; good, my Lord, enter. The tyranny of the open night's too rough For nature to endure Lear. Let me alone. Kent. Good my Lord, enter here. Lear. Will't break my heart? Kent. I'd rather break mine own. enter. [Storm ftill. Good my Lord, Lear. Thou think'ft 'tis much, that this contentious ftorm Invades us to the fkin; fo 'tis to thee: But where the greater malady is fix'd, The leffer is fcarce felt. Thou'dft fhun a bear; But if thy flight lay toward the roaring fea, Thou'dft meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind's free, Kent. Good my Lord, enter here. all Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyfelf; feek thine own eafe: On things would hurt me more-But I'll go in. Poor Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are, Edg. [within.] Fathom and half, fathom and half! poor Tom. Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, help me; [The Fool runs out from the Hovel. Kent. Give me thy hand. Who's there? Fool. A fpirit, a fpirit! He says, his name's poor Tom. Kent. What art thou, that doft grumble there i' the straw? Come forth. Enter Edgar, difguifed like a Madman. Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows-me. Through the fharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Humph, go to thy bed and warm thee. Lear. Didft 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 led through fire and through flame, through ford and through whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; fet ratfbane by his porridge; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horfe over four-inch'd bridges, to course his own fhadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits: Tom's a-cold. O do de, do de, do de. Blefs thee from whirlwinds, far-blafting, and taking. Do poor Tom fome charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him nowand there and here again, and there! [Storm ftill. Lear. What! have his daughters brought him to this pafs?- Couldft thou fave nothing? didft thou give 'em all? Fool. Nay, he referv'd a blanket, elfe we had been all afham'd. Lear. Now all the plagues, that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters! Kent. Kent. He hath no daughters, Sir. Lear. Death! traitor. Nothing could have fubdued nature To fuch a lownefs, but his unkind daughters. Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? Edg. Pillicock fat on pillicock-hill, Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. Edg. Take heed o' the foul fiend. Obey thy parents. Keep thy word justly. Swear not. Commit not with man's fworn fpoufe. Set not thy fweet heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold. Lear. What haft thou been? Edg. A ferving man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap, ferved the luft of my miftrefs's heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I fpake words, and broke them in the fweet face of heaven. One that flept in the contriving luft, and waked to do it. Wine loved I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramoured the Turk. Falfe of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand, hog in floth, fox in ftealth, wolf in greedinefs, dog in madnefs, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of fhoes, nor the rustling of filks, 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: fays fuum, mun, nonny, dolphin, my boy, boy, Seffey, let him trot by. [Storm fill. Lear. Why thou wert better in thy grave, than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skiesIs man no more than this? Confider him well: Thou oweft the worm no filk, the beast no hide; The sheep no wool, the cat no perfume:-Ha! here's Three of us are fophifticated! Thou art the thing Itfelf: unaccommodated man is no more than 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 to fwim 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 firft cock. He gives the web and the pin, fquints the eye, and makes the hair-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of the earth. Saint Withold footed thrice the Wold; He met the night-mare, and her nine fold, Kent. How fares your Grace? Enter Glofter with a torch. Lear. What's he? Kent. Who's there? What is't you seek? Edg. Poor Tom; that eats the fwimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water-newt; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for fallads, fwallows the old rat and the ditch dog, drinks the green mantle of the ftanding pool; who is whipt from tything to tything, and stock'd, punifh'd, and imprifon'd; who hath had three fuits to his back, fix fhirts to his body; Horfe to ride, and weapon to sear ; But mice, and rats, and such small deer, Beware my follower. Peace, Smalkin, peace thou fiend! Glo. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is grown fo vile, That it doth hate what gets it. Edg. Tom's a-cold. Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot fuffer Lear. Lear. First, let me talk with this philofopher. Kent. My good Lord, take his offer. Go into th' houfe. Lear. I'll talk a word with this fame learned Theban. -What is your study? Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. Kent, Importune him once more to go, my Lord, Glo. Canft thou blame him? [Storm ftill. His daughters feek his death. Ah, that good Kent! Thou fay'ft the King grows mad: I'll tell thee, friend, Now outlaw'd from my blood; he fought my life But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend, No father his fon dearer. True to tell thee, The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this? I do befeech your Grace. Lear. O, cry you mercy, Sir, -Noble philofopher, your company. Edg. Tom's a cold. Glo. In, fellow, into th' hovel; keep thee warm. Kent. This way, my Lord. Lear. With him; I will keep ftill with my philofopher. Kent. Good my Lord, footh him; let him take the fellow. Glo. Take him you on. Kent. Sirrah, come on; along with us. Lear. Come, good Athenian. Glo. No words, no words, huh! Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came, His word was still, fy, foh and fum, I finell the blood of a British man. [Exeunt. N°. XXV. |