The Heath. |
|
Enter EDGAR. |
Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, |
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst, |
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, |
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear: |
The lamentable change is from the best; |
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, |
Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace: |
The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst |
Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here? |
|
Enter GLOUCESTER, led by an old Man. |
My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! |
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, |
Life would not yield to age. |
Old Man. O my good lord! |
I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, |
These fourscore years. |
Glo. Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone; |
Thy comforts can do me no good at all; |
Thee they may hurt. |
Old Man. You cannot see your way. |
Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; |
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen, |
Our means secure us, and our mere defects |
Prove our commodities. Ah! dear son Edgar. |
The food of thy abused father's wrath; |
Might I but live to see thee in my touch, |
I'd say I had eyes again. |
Old Man. How now! Who's there? |
Edg. [Aside.] O gods! Who is 't can say, 'I am at the worst?' |
I am worse than e'er I was. |
Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom. |
Edg [Aside.] And worse I may be yet; the worst is not, |
So long as we can say, 'This is the worst.' |
Old Man. Fellow, where goest? |
Glo. Is it a beggar-man? |
Old Man. Madman and beggar too. |
Glo. He has some reason, else he could not beg. |
I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw, |
Which made me think a man a worm: my son |
Came then into my mind; and yet my mind |
Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard more since. |
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; |
They kill us for their sport. |
Edg. [Aside.] How should this be? |
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, |
Angering itself and others.—[To GLOUCESTER.] |
Bless thee, master! |
Glo. Is that the naked fellow? |
Old Man. Ay, my lord. |
Glo. Then, prithee, get thee gone. If, for my sake, |
Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain, |
I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love; |
And bring some covering for this naked soul |
Who I'll entreat to lead me. |
Old Man. Alack, sir! he is mad. |
Glo. 'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind. |
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure; |
Above the rest, be gone. |
Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, |
Come on 't what will. [Exit. |
Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow,— |
Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. [Aside.] I cannot daub it further. |
Glo. Come hither, fellow. |
Edg. [Aside.] And yet I must. Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. |
Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover? |
Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing; who since possesses chambermaids and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master! |
Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues |
Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched |
Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still! |
Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, |
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see |
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly; |
So distribution should undo excess, |
And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? |
Edg. Ay, master. |
Glo. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head |
Looks fearfully in the confined deep; |
Bring me but to the very brim of it, |
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear; |
With something rich about me; from that place |
I shall no leading need. |
Edg. Give me thy arm: |
Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt. |
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