EDGAR

How now brother Edmund, what serious contemplam cion are you in? Look up my Lord. Do you busy your self about that? How long have you been a sectary Astronomical? Why, the night gone by. Two hours together. None at all. Some villain hath done me wrong. Shall I hear from you anon? I am sure on't not a word. I hear my self proclaimed, And by the happy hollow of a tree Escaped the hunt, no Port is free, no place That guard, and most unusual vigilence Dost not attend my taking while I may escape, I will preserve my self, and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape, That ever penury in contempt of man, Brought near to beast, my face isle grime with filth, Blanket my loins, else all my hair with knots, And with presented nakedness outface, The wind, and persecution of the sky, The Country gives me proof and president Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices, Strike in their numbed and mortified bore arms, Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary, And with this horrible object from low service, Poor pelting villages, sheep-coats, and mills, Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers Enforce their charity, poor Turlygod, poor Tom, That's something yet, Edgar I nothing am. Away, the fowl fiend follows me, through the sharp hathorne blows the cold wind, go to thy cold bed and warm thee. Who gives any thing to poor Tom, whom the foul Fiend hath led, through fire, and through ford, and whirli-poole, over bog and quagmire, that has laid knives un der his pillow, and halters in his pue, set ratsbane y his pottage, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse over four inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor, bless thy five wits, Toms a cold, bless thee from whirlwinds, starre-blusting, and taking, do poor Tom some charity, whom the soul fiend vexes, there could I have him now, and there, and and there again. Pilicock sat on pelicocks hill, a lo lo lo. Take heed at'h foul fiend, obey thy parents, keep thy words justly, swear not, commit not with men sworn spouse, set not thy sweet heart on proud array, Toms a cold, A Servingman, 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 spoke words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven, one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it, wine lo ved I deeply, dice dearly, and in woman out paromord 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 pray, let not the creeking of shoes, nor the ruslngs of silks betray thy poor heart to women keep thy foot out of bro thell, thy hand out of placket, thy pen from lenders book, and defy the soul fiend, still through the hathorne blows the cold wind, hay no on nigh, Dolphin my boy, my boy, caese let him trot by. This is the foul fiend fliber degibek, he begins at cur phew, and walks till the first cock, he gives the web, & the pin, squemes the eye, and makes the hare lip, mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth, swithald footed thrice the old, he met the night mare and her nine fold bid her, Oh light and her troth plighted and arint thee, witch arint thee. Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tod pole, the wall-newt, and the water, that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cowdung for salads, swal lowes the old rat, and the ditch dog, drinks the green man tle of the 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 Dear, Hath been Toms food for seven long year. Beware my follower, peace snulbug, peace thou fiend. The Prince of darkness is a Gentleman, modo he's called and ma hu— Poor Toms a cold. How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin. Toms a cold. Child Roland, to the dark town come, His word was still fie foe and fum, I smell the blood of a British man. Fretereto calls me, and tells me Nero is and angler in the lake of darkness, pray innocent beware the foul fiend. The foul fiend bites my back, Look where he stands and glars, wanst thou eyes, at tral madam come over the broom Bessy to me. The foul fiend hau ̄ ts poor Tom in the voice of a Nightingale, Hoppedance cries in Toms belly for two white herring, Croak not black Angel, I have no food for thee. Bless thy five wits. My tears begin to take his partly so much, Theile More my counterfeiting. Tom will throw his head at them, avant you curs, Be thy mouth, or black, or white, tooth that poisons if it bite, Mastiff, grey How ̄ worser, mongrel, grim-hou ̄ worser or spaniel, brach or him, Bobtail tike, or true ̄ dletaile, Tom will make them weep & wail, For with throwing thus my head, dogs leap the hatch and all are fled, loudla doodla come march to wakes, and fairs, and market towns, poor Tom thy horn is dry. When we our betters see bearing our woes: we scarcely think, our Misery's, our foes. Who alone suffers suffers, most it'h mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind, But then the mind much sufferance does over scip, When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship: How light and portable my pain seems now, When that which makes me bend, makes the King bow. He childed as I fathered, Tom away, Mark the high noises and thy self bewray, When false opinion whose wrong thoughts defile thee, In thy joust proof repeals and reconciles thee, What will hap more to night, safe escape the King, Lurk, lurk. Yet better thus, and known to be contemned, Then still contemned and flattered to be worst, The lowest and most dejected thing of Fortune Stands still in experience, lives not in fear, The lamentable change is from the best, The worst returns to laughter, Who's here, my father poorly, leed, world, world, Oh world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age. Oh Gods, who is't can say I am at the worst, I am worse then ere I was. And worse I may be yet, the worst is not. As long as we can say, this is the worst. How should this be, bade is the trade that must play the fool to sorrow angering it self and others, bless thee master. Poor Toms a cold, I cannot dance it farther. Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. Both style and gate, horseway, and footpath, Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits, Bless the good man from the foul fiend, Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once, Of lust, as Obidicut, Hobbididence Prince of dumbness, Mahu of stealing, Modo of murder, Stiber digebit of Mobing, & Mobing who since possesses chambermaids And waiting women, so, bless thee master I master. Give me thy arm poor Tom shall led thee. You do climb it vpnow, look how we labour? Horrible steep, hark do you hear the sea? Why then your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes anguish. Y'ar much deceived, in nothing am I changed But in my garments. Come on sir, hers the place, stand still, how fearful And dizi 'tis to cast ones eyes so low The crows and choghes that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles, half way down Hangs one that gathers sampire, dreadful trade, Me thinks he seems no bigger then his head, The fishermen that walk upon the beach Appear Like mice, and you tall anchoring bark Diminished to her cock, her cock a bovi Almost too small for sighed, the murmuring surge That on the unnumbered idle peeble chaffs Cannot be herd, its so High isle look no more, Least my brain turn, and the deficient sighed Topple down headlong. Give me your hand, you are now within a foot Of th'extreame verge, for all beneath the Moon Would I not leap upright. Now fare you well good sir. Why I do trifell thus with his despair is done to cure it. Gone sir, farewell, and yet I know not how conceit my rob the treasury of life, when life it self yealds to the theft, had he been where he thought by this had thought been passed, alive or dead, ho you sir, hear you sir, speak, thus might he pass indeed, yet he revives, what are you sir? Hadst thou been ought but gosmore feathers air, So many fathom down precipitating Thou hadst shiuerd Like and egg, but thou dost breath Hast heavy substance, bleedst not, speakest, art found, Ten masts at each, make not the altitude, Which thou hast perpendicularly fell, Thy life's a miracle, speak yet again. From the dread summons of this chalky born, Look up a hight, the shrill gorged lark so far Cannot be seen or herd, do but look up? Give me your arm? Up, so, how feel you your legs, you stand. This is above all strangeness Upon the crown of the cliff what thing was that Which parted from you. As I stood here below me thoughts his eyes Were two full Moons, a had a thousand noses Horns, welk't and waved Like the enridged sea, It was some fiend, therefore thou happy father Think that the clearest Gods, who made their honours Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee. Bore free & patient thoughts, but who comes here The safer sense will near acco ̄ modate his master thus. Oh thou side piercing sighed. Sweet Margerum. I would not take this from report, it is, and my heart breaks at it. Oh matter and impertinency mixed reason in madness. Hail gentle sir. Do you hear ought of a battle towards. But by your favour how neers the other army. I thank you sir thats all. I thank you sir. Well, pray you father. A most poor man made lame by Fortune's blows, Who by the Art of known and feeling sorrows Am pregnant to good pity, give me your hand I'll lead you to some biding. Chill not let go fir without cagion. Good Gentleman go your gate, let poor voke pass, and chud have been swaggar'd out of my life, it would not have been so long by a fortnight, nay come not near the old man, keep out, cheuore you, or isle try whither your coster or my bat tero be the harder, isle be plain with you. Chill pick your teeth sir, come, no matter for your foins. I know thee well, a serviceable villain, As duteous to the vices of thy mistress, as badness would desire. Fit you down father, rest you lets see his pockets These letters that he speaks of may be my friends, He's dead, I am only sorrow he had no other deathsma ̄ Let us see, leave gentle wax, and manners blame us not To know our enemies minds wee'd rip their hearts, Their papers is more lawful. Let your reciprocal vows be remembered, you have many opportunities to cut him off, if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered, there is nothing done, If he return the conqueror, then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gail, from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour, your wife (so I would say) your affectionate servant and for you her own for Venture, Gonorill. Oh Indistinguisht space of woman's wit, A plot upon her virtuous husbands life. And the exchange my brother here in the sands, Thee isle rake up, the post unsanctified Of murderous leachers, and in the mature time, With this ungracious paper strike the sighed Of the death practised Duke, for him 'tis well, That of thy death and business I can tell. Give me your hand far off me thinks I hear the beaten drum, Come father isle bestow you with a friend. Exit. If ere your Grace had speech with man so poor, Hear me one word. Before you fight the battle open this letter, If you have victory let the trumpet found For him that brought it, wretched though I seem, I can produce a champion that will prove What is auowched there, if you miscarry, Your business of the world hath so and end, Fortune love you, I was forbid it, when time shall serve let but the Herald cry and isle appear again. Here father, take the shadow of this bush For your good host, pray that the right may thrive If ever I return to you again isle bring you comfort. Away old man, give me thy hand, away, King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter taine, Give me thy hand, come on. What in ill thoughts again men must endure, Their going hence, even as their coming hither, Ripeness is all come on. Oh know my name is lost by treasons tooth. Bare-gnawn and canker-bitte; yet are I mou't Where is the adversary I come to cope with all. What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester, Draw thy sword. That if my speech offend a noble heart, thy arm May do thee Justice, here is mine. Behold it is the privilege of my tongue, My oath and my profession, I protest, Maugure thy strength, youth, place and eminence, Despite thy victor, sword and fire new fortuned, Thy valour and thy heart thou art a traitor. False to thy Gods thy brother and thy Father, Conspicuate gainst this high illustrious prince, And from the'xtreamest upward of thy head, To the descent and dust beneath thy feet, A most toad-spotted traitor say thou no This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, As bent to prove upon thy heart whereto I speak thou liest, Let's exchange charity, I am no less in blood then thou art Edmund, If more, the more thou hast wronged me. My name is Edgar, and thy father's son, The Gods are joust, and of our pleasant virtues. Make instruments to scourge us the dark and vicious Place where thee he got, cost him his eyes. Worthy Prince I know't. By nursing them my Lord, List a brief tale, and when 'tis told Oh that my heart would burst the bloody proclamation To escape that followed me so near, Oh our lives sweetness, that with the pain of death, Would hourly die, rather then die at once. Taught me to shift into a madmans rags To assume a semblance that very dogs disdained And in this habit met I my father with his bleeding rings, The precious stones new lost became his guide, Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair, Never (Oh Father) revealed my self unto him. Until some half hour passed, when I was armed, Not sure, though hoping of this good success, I asked his blessing, and from first to last, Told him my pilgrimage, but his flawd heart, Alack too weak, the conflict to support, Betwixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smillingly. This would have seemed a perjod to such As love not sorrow, but another to amplify too much, Would make much more, and top extremity Whilst I was big in clamor, came there in a man, Who having seen me in my worst estate, Shunned my abhorred society, but then finding Who it that so endured with his strong arms He fastened on my neck and bellowed out, As hee'd burst heaven, threw me on my father, Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him, That ever ear received, which in recounting His grief grew puissant and the strings of life, Began to crack twice then the trumpets sounded. And there I left him traunst. Here comes Kenned sir. To who my Lord, who hath the office, send Thy token of repreeve. Or image of that horror. 'Tis noble Kenned your friend. Very bootless. He faints my Lord, my Lord. Oh he is gone indeed. Let us deal justly sleepest or wakest thou jolly shepherd, Thy sheep be in the corn, and for one blast of thy minik in mouth, thy sheep shall take no harm, Pur the cat is grey. Kenned sir, the banished Kenned, who in disguise, Followed his enemy king and did him service Improper for a slave.