« ZurückWeiter »
This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I do live before his time.
SCENE, An apartment in Glo'ster's taftle.
Enter Glo'fter, and Edmund.
LACK, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnaI might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house; charg'd me on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way sustain him.
Edm. Most favage and unnatural !
Glo. Go to ; say you nothing. There is division between the Dukes, and a worse matter than that: I have receiv'd a letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken ; (I have lock'd the letter in my closet :) thefe injuries, the King now bears, will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed ; we must incline to the King ; I will look for him, and privily relieve him ; go you, and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceiv'd; if he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed; if I die for it, as no less is threaten'd me, the King my old master must be relieved. There are strange things toward, Edmund; pray, you, be careful. [Exit, .
Edm. This courtesie, forbid thee, shall the Duke
[Exit. SCENE changes to a part of the Heath with a Hovels
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. Kent. LTERE is the place, my lord ; good my lord,
enter. The tyranny o'the open night's too rough For nature to endure.
EStorm Nill CS
, ; ,
Lear. Let me alone.
Thou'dft meet the bear i'th’mouth. When the mind's free,
In such a night,
madness lies ; let me fhun that ; No more of that.
Kent. Good my lord, enter here.
Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thy self; seek thine own case;
[poor Tom. Edg. within. Fathom and half, fathom and half !
Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit; help me, help me. [The Fool runs out from the hovel.
but I'll go
Kent. Give me thy hand, who's there?
Kent. What art thou, that doft grumble there i’th ftraw ? come forth.
Enter Edgar, disguis'd like 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. Didst 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 whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire ; that hath laid knives under his pillow,
and halters in his pew ; fet ratsbane by his Porridge, 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 ; Tom's a-cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de;
bless thee from whirl-winds, star-blasting, and taking ; do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend
There could I have him now, and there, and here again, and there.
[Storm fill. Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to
this pass ? Could'it thou save nothing ? did'ft thou give 'em all?
Fool. Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, elie we had been all shamed.
Lear. Now all the plagues, that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er mens' faults, light on thy daughters !
Kent. He hath no daughters, Sir.
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’th' foul fiend ; obey thy parents : keep thy word justly ; swear not ; commit' not with man's sworn (pouse ; fet not thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom's a cold.
Lear. What haft thou been ?
Edg. A ferving-man, proud in heart and mind ; that curl'd my hair, wore gloves in my cap, ferv'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 heav'n. One that slept in the contriving luft, and wak’d to do it. Wine lov'd I deeply; dice dearly ; and in woman, out-paramour'd the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in floth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rufling 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 defie the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind : says fuum, mun, nonny, dolphin my boy, boy, Selley: let him trot by.
Storm fill. Lear. Thou wert 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 ow'it the worm no filk, the beaft no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three of us are fophifticated. Thou art the thing it self; unaccommodated man is no more but 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 swim 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 first 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, (15)
And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee,
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 fallets ; swallows the old rat, and the ditchdog ; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool ; who is whipt from tything to tything, and stock-punish'd, and imprison'd: who hath had three suits to his back, fix shirts to his body ;
Horfe to ride, and weapon to wear;
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
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 fo vile, That it doth hate what gets it.
Edg. Tom's a-cold.
(15) Swithold footed thrice the old, ] What Idea the Editors had, or whether any, of footing the old, I cannot pretend to determine. My ingenious Friend Mr. Bishop saw it must be Wold, which fignifies a Down, or champion Ground, hilly and void of wood. And as to St. Wir bold; we find him again mention'd in our Author's Troublefome Reign of King John, in two parts:
Sweet St. Withold, of thy Lenity,