The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

ACT IV. Scene I. The heath.

ACT IV. Scene I. 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.

Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Man.

     But who comes here?
     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.
  Glou. 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.
  Glou. 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'ld 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?
  Glou. Is it a beggarman?
  Old Man. Madman and beggar too.
  Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg.
     I' th' 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 th' gods.
     They kill us for their sport.
  Edg. [aside] How should this be?
     Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
     Ang'ring itself and others.- Bless thee, master!
  Glou. Is that the naked fellow?
  Old Man. Ay, my lord.
  Glou. Then prithee get thee gone. If for my sake
     Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain
     I' th' 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!
  Glou. 'Tis the time's 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.
  Glou. Sirrah naked fellow-
  Edg. Poor Tom's acold. [Aside] I cannot daub it further.
  Glou. Come hither, fellow.
  Edg. [aside] And yet I must.- Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.
  Glou. Know'st thou the way to Dover?
  Edg. Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been
     scar'd 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; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of
     stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and
     mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So,
     bless thee, master!
  Glou. 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 does not feel, feel your pow'r quickly;
     So distribution should undo excess,
     And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?
  Edg. Ay, master.
  Glou. 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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